Elara moved through the dimly lit halls of the stronghold, her thoughts a storm of confusion and dread. The encounter with Lorien had shaken her in a way nothing else had. He had been her closest friend, the one she had trusted above all—before he vanished.And now he was here, alive, but standing on the wrong side of this war.The memory of his words clung to her skin like a curse.“Go back to your king, Elara. Leave the past buried where it belongs.”The way he had said king… as if she truly belonged to Vesper.Her hands curled into fists as she reached the massive iron doors leading to Vesper’s chambers. She had meant to return to her own rooms, but her feet had brought her here instead—to him.She didn’t knock. Instead, she pushed the doors open, stepping inside with purpose.Vesper stood near the fireplace, shirtless, his back to her. The glow of the flames cast sharp shadows along the sculpted lines of his body, the inked marks of his mafia lineage stretching across his shoulder
The moon hung heavy over the kingdom, its silver glow casting jagged shadows over the marble halls of the palace. The weight of prophecy pressed against Elara’s chest as she stood before the gilded mirror in her chambers, tracing the bruises that Vesper’s grip had left on her wrist. It wasn’t anger that had fueled his touch—it was desperation. A silent, burning need to hold on before everything unraveled. But unraveling was inevitable. A soft knock at the door made her stiffen. She knew who it was before he even spoke. “Elara,” Vesper’s voice was low, controlled, yet laced with an urgency she had never heard before. “We need to talk.” She hesitated for only a second before opening the door. The moment he stepped inside, the air between them thickened, electric with unspoken words. He was still dressed in his signature dark coat, its edges lined with enchanted embroidery that shimmered when he moved. “You lied to me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Vesper exhaled shar
Elara’s promise lingered in the air long after Vesper left the chamber. The moment the heavy wooden door shut behind him, she exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her chest. Her heartbeat was erratic, her pulse racing not from fear—but from the weight of the lie she had just spun.She had promised to hand him over.But she would never allow it.The flickering candle cast jagged shadows on the stone walls, mirroring the fractured plan forming in her mind. There was another way. There had to be another way.Elara pushed to her feet, pacing the length of the chamber, her thoughts a tangled mess of strategies, risks, and consequences. If she was going to betray both Vesper and the Wraith King in one calculated move, she would need leverage.And she knew exactly where to find it.The Wraith King’s ChamberThe midnight corridors of the castle were eerily silent, the air thick with unseen eyes. The Wraith King’s presence lingered like a sickness, the unnatural chill of his magic curling aroun
Elara’s pulse pounded as she met Vesper’s piercing gaze. His golden eyes were unreadable, yet the tension between them crackled like a storm about to break.How much does he know?She steadied her breath, forcing calm into her voice. “What are you talking about?”Vesper took a slow step forward, his presence swallowing the space between them. “Don’t play coy, Elara. I followed the magic trail. You weren’t alone just now.”Her fingers tightened around the spectral dagger hidden in the folds of her cloak. A lie would only dig her deeper into the pit, but the truth? That could shatter everything.She lifted her chin. “I was gathering information.”Vesper’s lips curled into something cold and knowing. “From the Wraith King?”Elara’s heart stilled. He knows.Her mind raced. If she admitted too much, he might see her as a traitor. But if she denied it outright, he would tear through her defenses like a blade through silk.She exhaled sharply. “Yes.”His gaze darkened, but he didn’t lash out
The howl echoed through the trees, a haunting reminder that time was running out. Elara felt the weight of Vesper’s hand on her wrist as he pulled her into motion. They ran through the mist-laden forest, their footsteps barely making a sound against the damp earth.“Elara, stay close,” Vesper ordered, his voice sharp with urgency.She didn’t argue. The Wraith King’s forces were relentless, and if they were closing in, it meant only one thing—he wanted her back.Or worse, he wanted revenge.The trees thickened around them, their twisted roots forming barriers as if the forest itself sought to trap them. Magic crackled in the air, dark and unnatural, a sign that the Wraith King’s influence was spreading.Elara could feel it in her blood, in the remnants of the bond she had severed. The spell had been broken, but something still tethered her to him, something deeper than magic—an unfulfilled bargain.Vesper’s grip tightened as they came to a sudden halt at the edge of a steep ravine. Bel
The fire crackled in the dimly lit cavern, its glow casting flickering shadows against the cold stone walls. Elara sat close to the flames, arms wrapped around herself as she tried to shake the lingering chill of the Wraith King’s presence. Even now, she could feel the echo of his voice in her mind, a dark whisper promising her doom.Vesper stood a few feet away, sharpening his dagger with slow, deliberate strokes. The tension between them was thick, an unspoken battle of wills. He hadn’t let go of her since the episode in the ravine, and while part of her wanted to pull away, another part of her—one she wasn’t ready to admit—found comfort in his nearness.“You need to rest,” he said finally, his voice rough.Elara glanced at him. “I doubt sleep will come easily.”Vesper sheathed his dagger and turned to face her. “Then let’s talk about our next move.”She exhaled sharply, shifting her gaze to the fire. “You said we need to kill him. But how? He’s not just a man, Vesper. He’s somethin
The cavern’s eerie silence stretched, thick with disbelief.Elara’s breath hitched as she stared at the figure standing in the entrance. The torchlight cast flickering shadows over his face, but she would have known him anywhere.Aerin.Her brother. The lost prince. The boy who had died.Or so she had believed.Her heart pounded. Her hands trembled. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You… you can’t be real.”The man before her—not a boy anymore, but a man hardened by years in the dark—tilted his head. His silver-blue eyes, so much like hers, flickered with something unreadable. “Hello, little sister.”Elara choked on a sob. It wasn’t possible. He had been taken. He had died. She had mourned him.Yet here he stood.Vesper let out a strained groan beneath her. The sound snapped her back to reality.She gripped his bloodstained shirt tighter, panic surging through her. “He’s dying,” she rasped, her gaze darting to Aerin. “I need—”Aerin moved before she could finish. He crouched bes
The castle loomed in the distance, its spires silhouetted against the deep purple of the evening sky. A storm was gathering—not of wind and rain, but of something far more dangerous.Elara stood at the edge of the cliffside balcony, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. Below, the city pulsed with life, oblivious to the war that was about to unfold.Behind her, Vesper stirred. “You’re quiet,” he murmured, stepping closer. His presence was a steadying force, warm and solid despite the wounds he still carried.Elara exhaled. “I was just thinking about how everything is about to change.”He touched her arm, gently turning her to face him. “It already has.”His eyes—stormy and intense—searched hers for something unspoken. There was no fear in them, only certainty.They were in this together.Aerin’s voice cut through the air. “If we’re doing this, we don’t have time for hesitation.” He entered the room, his usual cold demeanor edged with something sharper—urgency.Elara turned to him. “H
The royal court gleamed with polished lies and gilded betrayal.Elira stood just beyond the golden archway of the Hall of Judicium, cloaked in muted crimson. Not the bold blood-red of victory, but a shade that whispered defiance under restraint. Her crown was absent. Her gaze, razor-sharp.The whispers started before she even crossed the threshold.“She returned?”“After vanishing into the shadows?”“She dares—”Yes. She dared.Every noble, every scholar, every member of the high houses present turned their gaze to her. But it was only one gaze she sought—and when it met hers, the room ceased to exist.Arian.His expression was unreadable. A fortress carved in silence. But his fingers curled tightly around the edge of the throne.“Elira Virellian,” the High Arbiter announced. “You were summoned under charges of desertion, political sabotage, and fraternizing with marked traitors. Do you deny these claims?”She stepped forward, voice steady, spine straight. “No.”Gasps. Ripples of outr
The storm broke just before dawn, casting jagged shadows across the ruins of the old cathedral where Elira now stood, her cloak soaked through, her heart thundering with the weight of truth. The rain didn’t cleanse—it drowned, heavy with ash and memory.She hadn’t spoken to Arian since the night he revealed himself. Not because she was angry—but because she was terrified of what she’d say if she did.Behind her, footsteps echoed across the marble floor, soft and certain.“You’re early,” Silas said, his voice lower than usual, hands tucked behind his back as though the secrets he carried might fall out otherwise.Elira didn’t turn to him. “There’s no time to be late anymore.”Silas came to stand beside her, both of them facing the shattered stained glass window where the first light of morning bled through in fractured color.“He would let himself burn for you,” Silas said quietly.“I know,” she replied.“And yet you’re standing here with me.”“I need you both,” she admitted, her voice
The ground trembled beneath their feet.Cracks webbed across the stone floor like veins, glowing faintly with molten light. Selene stood frozen—not from fear, but from the weight of what was coming. A sister once loved. A future once imagined. All of it shattered in one whispered threat.Aurelia raised her hand again, this time drawing a blade of blackened crystal from the air. It pulsed with corrupted magic—magic that had clearly fed on something dark and ancient. Her eyes, once soft like moonlight, now held the chill of the abyss.“Do you remember,” she whispered, “when we used to hide in the Winter Garden, pretending we were the last queens of the world?”Selene didn’t answer. Her pulse roared in her ears.“You were always the dreamer,” Aurelia continued, stepping closer, the tip of her blade trailing sparks across the marble. “I was the one who saw the world for what it was. And still, you became the one they adored. The one he chose.”Damien’s hand tightened around Selene’s wrist
The moment Selene stepped through the crimson-lit door, the world around her shifted with a jolt that sucked the breath from her lungs. It wasn’t a fall, nor a walk—it was like being unmade and sewn back together in the same heartbeat.The glow vanished behind her as the door disappeared into the void, leaving only the sound of her own heartbeat echoing in her ears.She stood in a place that wasn’t a room, but not a dream either. The sky above her was a sweeping veil of black silk embroidered with crimson threads that pulsed like veins. Below her feet, the ground shimmered with fragments of memories—hers and others—shattered and scattered like broken glass.In the distance, a single obsidian pillar rose from the ground, crowned by a glowing, heart-shaped crystal suspended mid-air.And chained beneath it… was Damien.Her heart clenched.He was on his knees, shirtless, bloodied, the mark of their bond dimly glowing across his collarbone. Thick silver chains bound him—wrapped around his
The sky shattered.Or at least, that’s what it felt like when the creature descended.The air fractured with soundless force, the ground cracked beneath its weightless form, and darkness poured from its wings like poisoned rain. Damien lunged forward, but the thing slammed him aside with a gust of wind, sending him sprawling across the ruined courtyard.Selene didn’t move. Couldn’t.The creature hovered inches above the ground, its massive wings folding inward like a cloak. Smoke coiled around it, shaping horns, claws, and a maw that pulsed with lightless hunger. It had no name—only instinct. And that instinct wanted her.“Selene,” Damien’s voice rasped through bloodied lips. “You have to run.”She didn’t.Instead, she walked forward.Every step ignited something dormant inside her. Not magic like she had known it. Not the inherited gift of the royal line. This was older. Wilder. Buried so deeply it burned through her skin as it rose—like light trying to force its way through a vessel
The map Damien unrolled crackled with age, its edges frayed like something clawed at them long ago. The faded ink revealed a region blanketed in darkness—no names, no landmarks, just a jagged shape surrounded by thorn-like symbols.“The Shattered Lands,” he said grimly, running a gloved hand across the parchment. “No one returns from there untouched.”Selene stared at the mark pulsing on her palm—the bond magic that had begun to shimmer black along its edges. The same darkness she’d seen in her vision… in them.The twin heir.The echo of her soul that shouldn’t exist.“I don’t want to be untouched,” she whispered. “I want the truth. All of it.”Damien’s gaze lingered on her, his usual smirk replaced with something unguarded. “Then you’re going to need more than truth. You’ll need power—more than either of us has ever touched.”Selene’s expression turned sharp. “Then we take it.”⸻The journey toward the Shattered Lands was a test of endurance, not just through terrain but through will
The moonlight was thin—filtered through skeletal branches of the overgrown ruins once known as the Queen’s Garden. Once, it had been a sanctuary. Now, it was silent. Forsaken.Selene stood at the edge of the stone archway, cloaked in midnight blue, a hood drawn low over her face. The old garden had burned during the last rebellion, and nothing had truly grown here since. Not even the roses.“They’ll come,” Damien murmured beside her, his hand hovering near the dagger at his hip. “Cowards always do when they think their victim is alone.”Selene didn’t respond. She was listening.The wind shifted.Soft footsteps.Then—a whisper.“Princess,” a voice said, smooth and unfamiliar. “Or should I say… Queen?”A man emerged from the shadows beyond the ruins, clad in muted silver armor. His crest bore the twin serpents of House Valemont.Behind him, two figures followed—hooded, masked.Selene stepped forward, pulling her hood back.“You sent an assassin,” she said coldly.“An unfortunate misunde
The silence that followed Elias’s disappearance was a heavy, suffocating thing. It wasn’t just the betrayal—it was the knowledge that it had been growing beneath their feet all along, woven into the very halls they ruled from.Selene paced the dimly lit war chamber, her cloak sweeping behind her like spilled ink. The flames in the hearth danced wildly, reflecting the storm in her chest. Her crown, once a symbol of power, now felt like a weight pressing against her temples.Sebastian leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching her. “You haven’t said a word.”“I’m thinking.”He arched a brow. “That’s never been the problem. The problem is you don’t trust anyone enough to speak your thoughts aloud.”Selene stopped. “Would you, if every time you looked over your shoulder, there was someone holding a blade meant for your back?”Cassian entered the chamber then, bruised but unbowed, tossing a bloodstained scroll onto the table. “Intercepted at the border. Smuggled correspondence bea
The flames in the crystal torches flickered unnaturally as the council chamber descended into tension-soaked silence.Sebastian’s words hung in the air like a blade suspended over a battlefield.He’d just staked his loyalty—for everyone to see. Declared himself tied to Selene by bond and blood.But it was the silence that followed that chilled her. Not fury. Not outrage. Silence.Because silence meant planning.Selene’s fingertips brushed against the carved obsidian edge of the high table. Her mind, sharpened by instinct and years of surviving under veiled threats, screamed at her to stay still—to watch.And then it happened.A crack—subtle, almost imperceptible—rippled through the floor beneath the Seal of Vow. The carved crest shimmered, then split, bleeding black mist.Gasps echoed. A guard shouted.The chamber plunged into chaos.Arcanists chanted protective wards. Nobles backed away. The ground pulsed with tainted magic. Something was wrong. Something had been planted beneath the