In Generation 16, Aristeo was born—a boy with a kind heart and an unwavering devotion to his family's occult legacy. From the moment he could speak, he was captivated by tales of his ancestors: Alistair, Dayshin, and Caden. More than anything, Aristeo longed to become a spell caster and spent his youth tirelessly studying the family's magical history.

One fateful night, ready to take his first step into the world of spell casting, Aristeo visited the family graveyard. There, while reflecting on the sacrifices of his fifth great-grandfather, Dayshin, a chilling voice echoed through the air. He turned to find Isabella—a centuries-old vampire who had once married into the family. Unknown to Aristeo, Isabella had been watching over him his entire life.

Isabella's connection to the family ran deep. Long ago, she had married Aelin, a spell caster and cousin of Elspeth (Generation 12). Their love was pure, but Aelin’s mortality meant Isabella had to watch him grow old and die, leaving her heartbroken and hollow. Her story stretched back even further: she had once been a benevolent vampire, imprisoned by the same coven that held Caden captive. Hearing his desperate cries, she vowed to protect his bloodline. After escaping, she began a long, secret life of guardianship.

Over time, she crossed paths with Dayshin, a compassionate vampire who taught her to survive on plasma fruit instead of human blood. He became her mentor and anchor, and his death marked another blow she could only mourn from afar. Still, she remained a hidden protector—helping Eva in secret, sheltering Alistair when he was exiled for practicing forbidden magic.

But her heart changed when she lost Aelin. Grief consumed her, turning her warm soul cold. So when she witnessed Aristeo’s obsession with magic, she saw an opportunity—not for guidance, but for revenge. She decided to transform him into a spell caster twisted to her will, one who would satisfy her unending thirst. The spell came with a cruel curse: everyone who had ever loved Aristeo would forget him—and he would forget them in return.

At first, Aristeo was grateful. Isabella had granted him the power he always craved. But as years passed, the darkness of his new life took root. He descended into a world of murder and manipulation, becoming a monster forged by pain and magic. Together, he and Isabella hunted without mercy.

Everything changed when Aristeo met Etera—a mysterious spell caster whose tears shimmered electric blue. Captured and bound, she wept in silence. Her sorrow stirred something long-buried in Aristeo. When the time came to kill her, his hand trembled. A war raged inside him. Though he could not free her, he could not harm her either.

Over time, Isabella began feeding on Etera to shield herself from the sun. Each bite tore deeper into Aristeo’s soul. In a twisted bid to protect Etera, he diverted Isabella’s hunger by hunting others—mermaids, spell casters, anyone. Yet Etera’s quiet kindness never faded. Her compassion chipped away at the ice around his heart.

Their bond grew in secret—fleeting touches, stolen glances when Isabella wasn’t watching. Against all odds, Aristeo fell in love. One night, he acted. He broke her chains and escaped with her to a hidden Victorian home in Ravenwood, far from Isabella’s reach.

That night, in each other’s arms, they found a love neither thought possible. And with it came flickers of memory: a girl with blonde hair playing violin, a dark-haired woman on horseback. These visions were ghosts of a forgotten past—clues to an estranged sister named Anastasia, who was also beginning to remember.

Drawn back to the farm of their childhood, Anastasia unearthed a photograph with Malik, a powerful spell caster and her beloved. Recognition surged through her—Aristeo. Desperate to reconnect, Malik cast a risky spell to link their minds. But sensing Isabella’s looming presence, he severed the connection just in time.

Determined to rescue her brother, Anastasia enlisted Malik and Corwin, a 400-year-old spell caster who, unknowingly, had once mentored Aristeo. Meanwhile, Aristeo and Etera’s growing love weakened Isabella’s curse—cracks forming in the very foundation of her dark magic.

On a storm-lashed night, Anastasia, Malik and other spell caster friends and family, found Aristeo in the woods with Etera. They pleaded with him to let Etera help break the curse, believing she was the missing piece. Forming a circle, they chanted an ancient spell from Corwin’s memory. Power surged—but the curse held strong.

Then Isabella appeared. Her fury was laced with sorrow. She had felt her curse unraveling, undone by love she could no longer comprehend. Corwin, enraged by her betrayal, attacked. But as he moved to strike the killing blow, Aristeo stopped him.

Aristeo turned and saw it in Isabella’s eyes—she was ready. The only way to break the curse was her death, and she longed for peace, to finally be reunited with Aelin. With tears streaming down his face, he lifted her gently in his arms and carried her to the ocean. Beneath the waves, she met her end in silence, surrendering to the release she had longed for.

Aristeo broke through the surface of the water with a gasp, his body trembling, broken in both spirit and flesh. His soaked form staggered forward before dropping to his knees, the weight of his agony too much to bear. Then, without warning, a blinding light erupted from deep within his chest—pure, searing, and unrelenting. The ancient markings that once bound him flared to life, glowing white-hot as the long-held curse was torn from his very soul, burning away like parchment in fire.

He screamed—not in pain, but in release—as centuries of torment dissolved into the air around him. The light dimmed, and with it, his strength faded. Aristeo collapsed onto the rocky shore, his breathing shallow, his body limp.

Moments later, frantic footsteps splashed through the shallows. Those who had never stopped loving him—those who had waited, fought, and wept—gathered around him. At the center was his sister, eyes wide with tears, voice trembling as she called his name. She knelt beside him and wrapped her arms around him—not a ghost of a memory, not a dream, but real, solid, warm. It was the first time in lifetimes that she had truly held him.

Together, they stood side by side on the wind-swept cliff, their gazes fixed on the vast, endless ocean stretching before them. In the restless depths of the water, they imagined Isabella’s soul—once trapped in sorrow and shadow—now drifting free, carried gently away from pain toward peace.

Aristeo, standing there with the salt breeze brushing against his face, felt a quiet completeness settle within him. He was whole again—not just in body, but in soul. Yet, the journey he had endured had etched itself deeply into his being. The scars left behind were not just wounds but testaments: the agonizing pain of loss, the fierce, undying love that had driven him forward, and the sacrifices made in the name of hope.

Those memories, vivid and raw, were forever carved into the core of his existence, a permanent map of suffering and strength. But above all, they were sealed with the unbreakable love that had finally, at long last, set him free.