The room was deathly quiet.
The purple crest shimmered on the sigil-map—three spiraling serpents curled around a blood-red sun. Seraphina's pulse pounded so loudly in her ears that she barely registered Auren standing beside her.
She didn't have to look at him to know his expression.
He'd gone still.
Too still.
"Explain," Auren said, his voice calm in that chilling way she'd only heard once before—back when he'd interrogated a traitor in the tunnels and left nothing of the man's mind intact.
Seraphina took a breath.
"My family isn't dead."
"You told me they were executed during the Night Purge."
"They were supposed to be."
"And yet that's their crest glowing like a flare on my table."
She turned to him, face shadowed in the flickering rune light. "Because they were part of the Purge. The ones who ordered it."
He stared at her.
"You're noble-born," he said softly. "You've been lying from the start."
"My mother is Lady Vesira Eldryn," Seraphina confessed. "Head of House Eldryn. Strategist of the East."
"Varek's second-in-command."
She flinched.
Auren stepped back. "You were planted. From the beginning."
"No." She followed him, pleading. "I was assigned at first—yes. But I didn't know who you really were. I thought you were just another rebel leader clawing for power. Another man my mother would crush."
"And now?"
"Now I know what you're trying to build. And I believe in it."
He scoffed. "Convenient."
She caught his wrist. "Don't do this. Don't shut me out."
"You could've killed me the night we met."
"I should've," she whispered. "But I didn't."
"Why?"
She hesitated.
Then: "Because I saw someone who still believed in justice, even after losing everything. Because… because you made me believe again."
Auren looked at her—really looked at her. And something in his eyes cracked.
"Do you know what betrayal feels like, Seraphina?"
Her grip tightened.
"Yes," she said. "It feels like watching your father burn because he refused to kill children. It feels like kneeling in ash while your mother signs the execution order with your blood still on her hands."
Auren's breath caught.
"My mother tried to kill me when I turned sixteen," she continued, voice trembling. "Because I hesitated during a mission. Because I chose to save a village instead of letting them starve for strategy."
She swallowed.
"So I ran. I vanished. I created Seraphina Dawes. And I never planned to return. Until I heard your name. Until I saw your symbol rising in the undercity."
Auren's shoulders dropped, tension bleeding out of him—but not entirely.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Because I was afraid."
"Of me?"
"Of what I'd want if I let myself trust you."
His throat worked around silence.
"I'm not the man I used to be," he said finally. "I'm not Arion anymore."
"You are," she said softly. "You're the part of him that still hopes."
He looked away. "And you're the daughter of the woman who destroyed me."
"I know."
She stepped forward, hesitating only a moment before placing a hand on his chest.
"I don't expect forgiveness. But I need you to believe one thing."
He looked down at her.
"I chose you," she said. "Not her. Not Varek. Not the Guild. You."
He stared at her for a long, agonizing heartbeat.
Then he pulled her into a fierce, desperate kiss.
It wasn't careful this time. It was raw and possessive and filled with every emotion they couldn't name.
When he broke away, his forehead pressed to hers.
"I don't trust you," he whispered.
"I don't blame you."
"But I still want you."
She let out a breath. "Then take me."
His lips found hers again—slower this time, deeper. Their bodies pressed together, the heat between them crackling like magic.
But just as her hands slid beneath his shirt, the sigil-map flared again.
A new marker.
Blinking red.
"Another breach?" she gasped.
"No." Auren moved quickly to the table, eyes narrowing.
"It's a message."
The rune pulsed—then unfolded into an illusion.
A room. Cold stone. And a prisoner chained to a wall.
Seraphina's breath caught.
It was Kieran—a boy barely older than eighteen, part of their inner circle. Loyal. Brave. And now bloodied and bruised.
Then another figure entered the image.
Her heart stopped.
"Mother," she whispered.
Lady Vesira stood tall in her silver battle robes, not a single hair out of place. Her voice was smooth, sharp as ever.
"Dearest daughter. I expected betrayal. But not quite so… theatrical."
"You've chosen well. Arion Vael. The infamous strategist risen from the ashes. He'll make a lovely corpse—again."
A pause.
"But I know you, Seraphina. You crave purpose. Redemption. You want to prove you're more than your blood. So here is your test."
She turned to Kieran.
And without blinking—drove a dagger into his leg.
Kieran screamed.
Seraphina stumbled backward.
"Bring me Auren's head," Vesira said calmly, "or I start carving your rebellion one friend at a time."
The illusion faded.
The silence that followed was worse than any scream.
Seraphina pressed both hands to her mouth.
Auren spoke, voice like ice.
"She knows everything."
She nodded. "She's giving me a choice."
He turned to her, eyes unreadable.
"What are you going to do?"
Her voice shook. "I don't know."
"Yes, you do."
"I—"
"Look at me."
She did.
"If you choose her, I'll understand," he said. "But I won't let you come back. Not after this."
Her heart broke.
"But if you choose me…" He reached out, brushed a thumb against her cheek. "Then we burn the world together."