Chapter 25 – The Fractured Oath

Darkness swallowed everything.

Elara’s breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as the world spun violently around her. The temple’s golden light had been consumed, its warmth snuffed out by the Wraith King’s presence.

And Kael—

Kael was gone.

She wasn’t sure when it had happened, wasn’t sure if he had been dragged into the abyss or if the shadows had simply erased him. But his absence sent a jagged, ice-cold terror through her chest.

“Elara.”

The voice slithered through the darkness like silk over steel.

She turned sharply, heart hammering. The Wraith King stood before her, the void of his gaze locked onto her like a predator studying prey.

She swallowed hard. “What do you want from me?”

His lips curved, slow and deliberate. “Everything.”

Elara clenched her fists, forcing down the tremor in her limbs. “You won’t have it.”

The Wraith King stepped closer, the shadows shifting around him like an extension of his will. “You misunderstand, little flame.” He lifted a hand, and the darkness at her feet curled around her ankles, tightening. “This is not a request.”

A searing pulse of magic snapped through her veins.

The spell.

The one that bound her to the kingdom’s fate, to the prophecy she had been cursed with. It reacted violently to the Wraith King’s power, fighting against his grip.

His eyes flickered. “Ah… So, the bond resists me.”

Elara forced herself to meet his gaze. “Then I suggest you let me go.”

The Wraith King exhaled a soft, almost amused breath. “Oh, but I do love a challenge.”

The shadows tightened.

Pain lanced through her, sharp and unforgiving, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a scream.

Then, the air split apart.

A blast of raw, golden power tore through the chamber, shattering the darkness.

The shadows recoiled, and the Wraith King staggered back, his void-like gaze snapping toward the temple’s entrance.

Elara gasped, the weight around her limbs suddenly gone.

A figure stood at the threshold, the dim light catching on golden embroidery, dark fabric, and sharp, merciless eyes.

Vesper.

He moved with terrifying precision, stepping into the ruined temple as if he owned it. Power coiled around him, thick and dangerous, shifting the air itself.

The Wraith King’s smirk returned, slow and measured. “Well. This is unexpected.”

Vesper tilted his head slightly. “Not for me.”

Then, he raised his hand.

A single gesture—effortless, commanding.

And the darkness shattered.

The temple’s broken runes flared back to life, golden light racing along the walls, forming a barrier that cut the Wraith King off from Elara.

Elara stumbled back, staring at Vesper, her pulse thrumming wildly.

“You—”

But Vesper didn’t look at her.

His gaze was locked onto the Wraith King.

“I have no interest in games,” Vesper said, voice like steel. “Step aside.”

The Wraith King chuckled, unfazed. “You think you can command me, little prince?”

Vesper’s expression didn’t change. But the air around them did.

The temple groaned, the very foundation trembling beneath an unseen force.

Elara felt it—something was different about him. His power had always been a quiet, deadly thing, coiled beneath the surface. But now, it was unleashed.

Not controlled. Not calculated.

Raw. Dangerous. Untamed.

And the Wraith King knew it.

For the first time, his smile faded.

“I see,” he murmured, studying Vesper with something new in his gaze. Something almost… intrigued.

A sharp crack echoed through the chamber as the Wraith King stepped back.

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll allow this little rebellion.”

His gaze flicked to Elara, the shadows coiling lazily at his feet. “But you owe me, little flame. And I always collect.”

With a final, dark chuckle, he vanished.

The temple fell into silence.

Elara exhaled sharply, her legs suddenly weak.

Vesper turned to her then, finally meeting her gaze.

His expression was unreadable.

His power still hummed in the air, something ancient and unforgiving.

“Are you hurt?”

His voice was softer now, but it held an edge. A barely restrained fury beneath the calm.

Elara forced herself to stand straight. “I—”

And then, Kael stumbled through the entrance.

His clothes were torn, his breathing heavy, golden eyes burning with rage.

His gaze locked onto Vesper—

And the temple erupted into chaos.

The moment Kael’s gaze locked onto Vesper, the air shifted—as if a storm had gathered within the temple walls.

His golden eyes, usually sharp with calculation, were now filled with something far more primal. Rage.

“Elara,” Kael’s voice was hoarse, strained. He barely looked at her, his entire focus locked onto the man standing between them. “Step away from him.”

Elara’s heart skipped a beat.

The power radiating from Kael wasn’t just anger—it was pure, unfiltered wrath. The kind she had only seen once before, the day he first revealed his true nature.

But she didn’t move.

She could still feel the phantom touch of the Wraith King’s magic on her skin, the lingering cold that refused to fade. And she knew—Vesper had saved her.

Kael took a step forward. Shadows coiled around his feet, swirling like a living thing. “I said, step away.”

Vesper remained utterly still, as if Kael’s anger was beneath his concern.

His voice was calm when he finally spoke. “She’s not yours to command.”

A dangerous silence settled between them.

Elara’s breath caught.

The two most powerful men she knew were seconds away from colliding.

The temple groaned under the weight of their magic, runes flickering against the walls as if straining to contain the energy building between them.

Kael’s fists clenched, his control slipping. “You’re a fool if you think I’ll let you walk out of here with her.”

Vesper tilted his head slightly, assessing him the way a predator sizes up another hunter. “And you’re a fool if you think you can stop me.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Kael lunged.

Elara barely had time to react before a blast of pure, searing energy exploded between them.

Vesper didn’t move.

Instead, with a flick of his wrist, he redirected Kael’s attack with infuriating ease, sending it crashing into the far wall.

The temple shook violently.

Kael skidded back, his breath ragged, but his fury only deepened. “You don’t understand what you’re interfering with, Moretti.”

Vesper’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “I understand more than you think.”

Kael snarled, ready to strike again—

But Elara moved.

Fast.

She stepped between them, magic flaring at her fingertips. “Enough.”

Her voice rang through the chamber, sharp as a blade.

Kael froze, his eyes darting to her in disbelief. “Elara, he—”

“I said enough.”

Her pulse thundered, but she refused to let either of them see her fear.

This wasn’t just a fight.

It was a reckoning.

Vesper’s gaze slid to hers, unreadable, but he didn’t challenge her.

Kael, however, was furious.

His breathing was uneven as he stared at her. “You’re defending him?”

Elara swallowed hard. “I’m stopping you from making a mistake.”

Kael’s jaw clenched. “You don’t know what he is.”

Vesper let out a quiet breath, almost amused. “Enlighten her, then.”

Kael’s hands curled into fists. “He’s not just a prince. He’s a monster wearing a crown.”

Vesper laughed softly. “And you’re not?”

A thick silence followed.

Elara’s stomach twisted.

She had spent so long questioning the prophecy, wondering which of them would be her salvation—and which would be her ruin.

Now, standing between them, she wasn’t sure if the line even existed anymore.

What if they both were?

What if the real danger…

Was her?

The ground beneath them trembled.

Magic surged through the temple like a heartbeat, strong and erratic.

Elara’s chest tightened.

Something was wrong.

Vesper felt it, too. His expression darkened as his gaze flicked toward the temple’s central altar.

Kael stiffened. “The seal—”

A sharp crack split the air.

Elara turned just in time to see the runes on the altar splinter.

The temple’s ancient wards—the only thing keeping the Wraith King at bay—were breaking.

And this time…

There would be no stopping what came next.

A second crack split through the chamber. The walls trembled, ancient runes flickering as their magic failed, one by one.

Elara’s breath hitched. The seal was breaking.

A deep rumble echoed through the temple, like a beast stirring from slumber.

Kael turned sharply toward the altar, his fury momentarily forgotten. “No—”

But it was too late.

The symbols that had once kept the Wraith King imprisoned pulsed with an ominous glow before shattering into nothing.

A wave of cold slammed into them.

Elara stumbled back as darkness slithered through the cracks in the stone, creeping like poisoned smoke.

Vesper was the only one who didn’t flinch. He stood perfectly still, his silver eyes locked onto the growing abyss beneath the altar.

And then—

A voice rose from the darkness.

Soft at first. A whisper.

Then a low, grating chuckle that sent a shiver down Elara’s spine.

“How fascinating…”

The air turned thick and suffocating.

Elara clenched her fists, forcing herself to breathe through the cold invading her lungs.

The Wraith King’s voice was everywhere and nowhere, slipping through the cracks of reality itself.

“It has been… centuries since I last saw the light,” he mused, his tone as smooth as it was sinister. “And yet, here I wake… to find my two greatest enemies standing side by side.”

The darkness coiled at the center of the room, twisting into a shape—a figure emerging from the abyss.

Elara’s pulse pounded.

The Wraith King.

Tall. Unnatural. His presence felt like an open wound in reality, something that shouldn’t exist—something that defied life itself.

His face was obscured, shifting between forms, as if his true shape couldn’t be comprehended by mortal eyes.

But his power?

It was undeniable.

The shadows that made up his form pulsed with raw, ancient magic, strong enough to break kingdoms with a thought.

Vesper was the first to move.

He stepped forward, unshaken.

“You’re weaker than I expected,” he said, his voice calm but edged with something lethal. “I thought you’d be more impressive.”

The Wraith King laughed.

“Arrogant child. Do you truly believe you are prepared to face me?”

Vesper tilted his head slightly. “I don’t believe. I know.”

Elara’s breath caught as power ignited around him—his own magic unfurling like a beast awakened.

Golden embers flared in his irises, stark against the darkness.

Kael moved then, stepping beside Elara, his own magic crackling in the air. “If you know what’s good for you, Moretti,” he said coldly, “you won’t get in my way.”

Vesper smirked. “Funny. I was about to say the same to you.”

For a split second, all three of them stood at a deadlock.

Elara could feel the weight of what was about to happen.

She could feel the Wraith King’s power surging—preparing to strike.

She could feel Kael’s rage, the magic that hummed beneath his skin, ready to be unleashed.

And she could feel Vesper’s resolve, unshakable as stone.

Something was going to break.

And when it did—

The war would begin.