Chapter 1 : The Chosen Child

**Time:** Late Autumn 1885, 6 months before Aurora''s birth

**Location:** St. Mary''s Church, Cornwall → Winters Manor carriage

The afternoon Cornwall was shrouded in continuous drizzle, the spire of St. Mary''s Church faintly visible beneath the grey, overcast sky. A black carriage stood at the church entrance, the coachman holding an umbrella, respectfully waiting.

Evelyn Winters stepped down from the carriage, wearing a deep grey woolen gown, its style so plain it bordered on shabby, starkly different from her usual flamboyant, ostentatious attire. Her thick black hair was simply coiled at the back of her head, secured with a wooden hairpin, her face free of makeup, deliberately suppressing the unsettling magical aura that usually surrounded her.

She looked like an ordinary woman in distress.

Only those golden-brown eyes, beneath lowered lids, occasionally flashed with impatience and irritation.

Inside the church, the light was dim, stained glass windows casting mottled shadows that slowly moved across the grey stone floor tiles. The air was thick with the scent of burning candle wax, the mustiness of old wood, and faint incense—clashing with the subtle, cold aura unique to the Winters family that clung to her.

Evelyn knelt before the confessional, hands clasped, fingertips unconsciously rubbing the fabric of her skirt.

"Father," she deliberately lowered her voice, disguising her originally lazy, seductive tone to sound timid, "I... I am a woman who has strayed from the right path."

The old priest''s voice was gentle through the wooden lattice window: "Child, the Lord will forgive every truly repentant soul."

"I... I am with child, a child that should not be." Evelyn''s voice grew even softer, trembling slightly. "I''ve tried every method to rid myself of it, but nothing works, and I''ve only hurt myself in the process."

As she spoke, her slender fingers rested on her still-flat abdomen, the gesture carrying a barely perceptible disgust.

"I just want to know... what is this child? Why... why can''t I get rid of it?"

The old priest fell silent for a moment, then slowly reached out, as if wanting to offer comfort through the wooden lattice. His palm inadvertently touched the back of Evelyn''s hand resting on her abdomen—

In that instant, the old priest''s expression changed dramatically.

He jerked his hand back as if burned, staggering back two steps, his aged face showing disbelief. He clasped his hands together, bowing deeply toward Evelyn''s abdomen, his voice trembling almost incoherently:

"Lord... Madam... the child in your womb... bears a sacred mark..."

Evelyn''s brow twitched imperceptibly, her face still maintaining its fearful confusion. "Father? What did you say?"

"This is the chosen child, the child of destiny." The old priest''s voice held reverence and fear. "Unless you die, this child will certainly be born into this world. This is divine will... a blessing, and also a curse."

*The chosen child?* Evelyn''s lowered eyelashes trembled slightly. *She, the last descendant of the Winters family, seen by the world as a witch, secretly hunted by the church, was actually carrying a child blessed by the divine?*

How ironic.

She maintained that fragile appearance, but her voice unconsciously took on a cold edge. "Father means... no matter what method I use, I cannot rid myself of this child?"

The old priest was taken aback, then shook his head with a sigh. "Madam, this is a heavenly blessing, why would you—"

"Thank you for your guidance, Father."

Evelyn didn''t let him finish. She stood up, took a gold coin from her sleeve, placed it before the confessional, and turned to leave.

The rain continued, fine droplets striking her face, icy cold. Evelyn didn''t let the coachman hold the umbrella, walking directly to the carriage.

Inside the carriage, the air smelled of leather and damp wood. She leaned back in the seat, one hand still resting on her abdomen. It was flat and soft, no different than usual, but she knew an inescapable trouble was growing inside, bit by bit.

*The chosen child... child of destiny...*

She murmured softly, the corners of her lips curling into a cold smile.

*Hah.*

*When you''re born, the first thing I''ll do is strangle you.*

The carriage jolted along the muddy road. Evelyn closed her eyes, but her mind involuntarily conjured those chaotic nights—the banquet hall with flickering candlelight, hypocritical smiles over clinking glasses, the warmth and scent of different men...

She couldn''t even remember which one.

It didn''t matter. They were all unimportant people, tools she used to pass the time, to maintain the superficial prosperity of the Winters family.

Only this time, the tool had left an unwanted trace.