Chapter 17 – The Ghost of the Past

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 beside her, glancing down at Vesper’s unconscious form. His expression remained unreadable.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Aerin murmured. “You shouldn’t have found this place.”

Elara ignored him. “Help me,” she demanded, voice sharp with desperation. “If you are really my brother, if you have even an ounce of loyalty to our family—help me save him!”

Aerin’s gaze darkened, flickering between her and Vesper. Then, with a slow exhale, he lifted a hand.

A strange warmth filled the air.

Elara’s breath caught as golden runes shimmered to life above Vesper’s chest, twisting and writhing like living things. She recognized the magic.

Ancient. Forbidden. The kind of power only bloodlines like theirs could wield.

The glow seeped into Vesper’s skin. His breathing, once shallow and ragged, steadied. The wound on his side slowly closed, though the blood remained.

Elara watched in stunned silence as color returned to his face. He was still unconscious, but his body no longer clung to the edge of death.

Tears burned in her eyes. “You… You healed him.”

Aerin lowered his hand, the magic fading. “I delayed the inevitable,” he corrected. “His fate is bound to yours, Elara. As long as you are in danger, he will be too.”

Elara swallowed hard, blinking past the haze of emotion. “You should be dead,” she whispered. “I saw them take you. I thought—”

“That I perished?” Aerin’s mouth curled into something resembling a smirk. But there was no warmth in it. “No. They didn’t kill me, Elara. They did something much worse.”

Her pulse pounded. “Who?”

His gaze darkened. “The same people who cast the prophecy upon you.”

A shudder ran through her.

The prophecy.

One must die for the other to thrive.

Elara’s throat tightened. “What are you saying?”

Aerin exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering to Vesper’s unconscious form. “You think your fate is tied to him.” He shook his head. “But it isn’t just him, Elara.” His voice dropped. “It’s me.”

Elara’s blood turned to ice.

She barely heard herself whisper, “No.”

Aerin met her gaze, something ancient and sorrowful buried in his eyes. “Yes.”

The cavern suddenly felt too small, too suffocating. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

All this time, she had believed the prophecy meant she would have to choose between her own life and Vesper’s.

But now—now—she realized the truth was far more cruel.

One must die for the other to thrive.

And that “other” wasn’t just Vesper.

It was Aerin too.

Her lost brother.

Her love.

Her fate was bound to both of them.

And in the end, only one would survive.

Elara felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs. The weight of Aerin’s words pressed down on her chest, suffocating, inescapable.

She shook her head, her fingers tightening around Vesper’s shirt as if holding onto him would anchor her. “No,” she whispered again, her voice trembling. “That can’t be true.”

Aerin’s gaze remained steady, unyielding. “The prophecy was never just about one choice, Elara. It was about all of us.”

Elara’s mind raced. The prophecy had haunted her since childhood—a curse whispered through royal corridors, a fate she had desperately tried to deny.

She had thought it meant her life or Vesper’s. That their love was doomed before it had even begun.

But now…

Now, she realized the cruelest truth.

It was more than a lover’s sacrifice.

It was a brother’s, too.

Her stomach twisted violently. “How do you know this?” she demanded. “How long have you known?”

Aerin’s jaw tensed. “Since the moment they took me.”

A sickening chill ran through her veins. “Who?”

“The High Circle,” he said, voice laced with bitterness. “The ones who control the kingdom from the shadows. The ones who made the prophecy real.”

Elara sucked in a sharp breath. The High Circle—the unseen hands behind the throne. The same power that had bound magic to the elite, that had ruled through manipulation and fear.

She had always known they were dangerous. But to learn that they had orchestrated the prophecy? That they had stolen her brother from her, all to force this fate upon them?

Rage burned through her veins like wildfire.

“Why?” she asked hoarsely. “Why would they do this?”

Aerin exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. “Because the royal bloodline holds the last remnants of the old magic. The kind of magic that doesn’t obey their rules.” His silver-blue eyes locked onto hers. “The kind of magic we carry.”

Elara stiffened.

She had known her family was powerful, but she had never understood the depths of it.

She had never known that she was dangerous.

That Aerin was.

That even Vesper—a man outside the royal bloodline—was bound into this twisted web of fate.

Vesper let out a weak groan beneath her. The sound sent a bolt of panic through her, but when she looked down, she saw that his breathing had steadied.

He was alive.

But for how long?

She turned back to Aerin. “If you know this much… then tell me.” Her voice hardened. “Tell me how to break it.”

Aerin was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he spoke.

“There’s only one way, Elara.” His voice was quiet. Almost regretful.

Her pulse pounded. “Tell me.”

He exhaled slowly. “One of us has to die by your hand.”

Elara’s entire body went cold.

The silence that followed was shattering.

She stared at him, unable to process what he had just said.

“No,” she whispered.

Aerin’s expression didn’t change. “Yes.”

“No,” she said again, more forcefully. “I won’t—I won’t kill you! I won’t kill Vesper either!”

Aerin sighed, rubbing his temples. “It doesn’t matter what you want, Elara. The prophecy isn’t a warning—it’s a binding. If the cycle isn’t completed, the magic will tear itself apart.” His silver-blue eyes locked onto hers. “And it will take you with it.”

Her breath hitched.

“You don’t have a choice,” Aerin said softly. “It will be me, or it will be him. And if you refuse to choose…” His voice trailed off.

Elara’s stomach twisted.

If she refused to choose…

Then the magic would take all three of them.

She squeezed her eyes shut. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.

She felt Aerin’s hand on her shoulder, firm, steady. “We don’t have much time, Elara. The High Circle won’t let you walk away from this prophecy. They’ve spent years ensuring it unfolds exactly as they want it to.”

She opened her eyes, swallowing the bile rising in her throat.

For the first time in her life, she felt trapped. Truly, utterly trapped.

She had fought against fate for so long. She had refused to believe that her future was already written.

But now, she saw the chains wrapping around her. Around Vesper. Around Aerin.

And she realized—

This was never about destiny.

It was about control.

And she would be damned if she let them win.

Elara straightened her spine, staring her brother down. “Then we break it.”

Aerin’s expression flickered with something unreadable. “It’s not that simple.”

She gritted her teeth. “It never is. But I will not choose between you and Vesper. I will not let them dictate my fate.” Her hands curled into fists. “So we find another way.”

Aerin studied her for a long moment. Then, slowly, he smiled.

It was a small smile—one filled with something she hadn’t seen in his eyes since he had appeared from the shadows.

Hope.

“If you’re serious about this,” he murmured, “then we’ll need to move fast.”

She nodded, steel settling into her bones. “Then let’s start now.”

She had spent her whole life running from the prophecy.

Now, she was going to destroy it.

Elara’s mind was a storm of chaos. The walls of fate were closing in on her, the weight of Aerin’s words suffocating. She felt like a pawn in a game she had never agreed to play—a puppet on strings controlled by unseen hands.

She had spent years fighting against the prophecy, believing she could outmaneuver it. But now, the truth loomed before her, inescapable. It had never been about just her and Vesper.

It had always included Aerin.

Her brother, stolen from her and reshaped by the High Circle’s will.

Her lover, bound to a fate that demanded blood.

And her, trapped between them.

Her fists clenched at her sides. “There has to be another way.”

Aerin exhaled sharply. “You think I haven’t tried to find one?” He shook his head. “I spent years in their grasp, Elara. I have seen how they manipulate, how they twist fate to suit their purpose. This prophecy isn’t a story written in the stars—it’s a cage.”

Elara’s throat tightened. “Then we break it.”

Vesper stirred at her feet, his breathing shallow, his body still weak from the wounds he had suffered. The sight of him like this only fueled the fire inside her.

For years, she had resisted fate. Refused to let it dictate her choices.

She wouldn’t stop now.

Aerin ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the tension of his shoulders. “Breaking it isn’t that simple. The prophecy was crafted through blood magic—ancient, binding. You can’t just defy it with sheer will.”

Elara straightened, eyes burning with defiance. “Then tell me what can.”

Aerin hesitated. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he said, “There’s only one way to unbind a prophecy of this magnitude.” His voice was low, almost reluctant.

Elara’s pulse pounded. “Tell me.”

Aerin’s silver-blue eyes met hers, heavy with unspoken weight. “To rewrite it, you must spill the blood of the ones who created it.”

The air grew still.

Elara’s breath hitched. “You mean—”

Aerin nodded grimly. “The High Circle.”

The realization slammed into her like a crashing wave.

The prophecy was never a divine decree. It was manufactured.

And that meant it could be destroyed.

But to do that, they would have to wage war against the most powerful force in the kingdom.

Elara glanced at Vesper, his face still pale, his breathing uneven.

She had already lost so much.

She wouldn’t lose him.

She wouldn’t lose Aerin.

Her fingers curled into fists.

“Then we kill them,” she said.

Aerin studied her for a long moment, then let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “You say that like it’s easy.”

“It’s not,” she admitted. “But it’s the only way. And I’m done letting them control my fate.”

Aerin’s expression hardened. “Then we have to move quickly. The High Circle won’t wait for you to make your choice—they’ll come for you.”

Elara’s jaw tightened. “Then we’ll be ready.”

For the first time, she wasn’t running from the prophecy.

She was going to end it.

No matter what it took.