Ariana jolted awake.
The silken sheets clung to her damp skin, her chest heaving as though she'd run through fire. For a moment, she didn't know where she was—only that the scream echoing in her head had sounded like her mother's.
She sat up slowly, her palm pressed to her racing heart.
A burning field. A woman's hand, bloodied and outstretched. A crown, torn in two.
That dream—no, that memory—was coming more often now. Each time more vivid, more cruel. And always the same name whispered from the smoke:
"Veyl."
She rose from the bed and wrapped a velvet robe around her trembling form. The warmth of the firelight beckoned from the hall. She needed answers. She needed clarity.
She needed him.
Damian stood in the war room, staring at a map littered with iron pieces. His cloak hung loosely from his shoulders, black as night, dusted with ash from the hearth.
He didn't turn when the door creaked open.
"You should be in bed," he said quietly.
Ariana's voice followed, firm and steady. "I didn't come for permission."
Damian's jaw twitched. "Of course not."
She crossed the room, her bare feet soundless against the stone. "Selene tried to poison me in my own chambers. What are we going to do about her?"
He finally looked up. The firelight caught the sharp planes of his face, casting shadows under his cheekbones, in the hollows of his eyes. And yet—when he looked at her, his gaze softened.
"We do nothing rash. Not yet."
"You want me to wait?" she asked, incredulous. "Wait while she plots my death?"
"She isn't working alone," Damian said.
Ariana paused. "What?"
He picked up a small, cracked piece of black glass from the table. "I found this behind your mirror. Not ordinary. Spell-forged."
Her breath caught.
"I think someone was watching you through it," Damian continued. "Someone else. Selene doesn't use artifacts like this. This reeks of the old ways. Of… Veylia."
Ariana's blood chilled. "You think someone in the castle is helping her?"
"I know it," he said. "We have a viper coiled beneath our feet."
Far below the capital, in a chamber carved from stone and shadow, Selene stood before a shattered mirror. Her reflection warped and shimmered before resolving into the face of another.
A cloaked figure—tall, draped in obsidian robes—materialized through the glass.
"You failed," the voice growled, distorted by magic.
Selene smirked. "It was only a test."
The figure leaned forward. Though its face remained hidden, power rippled around it like a living force. "The queen survives, and yet you smile?"
"Because now I know how to break her," Selene whispered. "She bleeds for him. She'll fall for him. And when he breaks, she'll shatter."
The shadow snarled. "If she awakens her true blood, we are all undone. Do not delay again."
Selene's smile faltered.
"Or you'll join your traitor kin in the void."
Then the mirror cracked—and went black.
Back in the palace, Ariana stood beside Damian at the war table. Neither spoke for a long time, the tension between them heavier than any crown.
"You were right," she said finally. "There's something wrong in this place. In me."
He turned to her, brows furrowed.
She hesitated. "I've been remembering things. Fractured pieces. My mother. A fire. The name Veyl."
His voice turned hoarse. "That's the name of your bloodline."
She looked up sharply.
"My father feared it. The Veyls were said to be witches born of starfire. You're descended from them—through your mother's line. That's why your power burns so hot. Why they tried to erase you."
Ariana took a shaky step back, her thoughts spinning.
"I'm not just a girl from nowhere," she whispered.
"No," Damian said, stepping forward, cupping her face with a reverence that made her breath hitch. "You are fire incarnate, Ariana. A queen born of myth. And if Selene or her shadows think they can snuff that out, they've never seen you burn."
Her eyes shimmered, unshed tears catching the flicker of torchlight. "You really believe in me?"
"I'd raze kingdoms if you asked me to."
He kissed her then—not with possession, but with promise. His lips brushed hers like an oath, fierce and protective and full of longing.
And she kissed him back like she was tired of fighting the way her soul had always known his.
But far away, in the darkness of the deep court, the shadow that watched from Ariana's mirror stirred again.
It whispered only one word.
"Soon."