The wind outside the High Hall howled like a beast denied its prey.
Selene stood before the obsidian-framed mirror, staring at the fractured reflection of herself. Her silver eyes shimmered with fear she didn't dare speak aloud. Behind her, the warmth of the fireplace did nothing to ease the chill settling into her bones—not when the past was clawing its way back through the cracks of time.
Kieran entered the chamber quietly, closing the door behind him. His presence was a balm and a storm all at once.
"He's here," she said, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the flames. "Malrik."
Kieran didn't ask how she knew. Her connection to old magic—forbidden and fractured—was stronger than ever since their bond had deepened. The mark he carried across his heart pulsed faintly, reacting to her distress.
"There's no sign of him in the city," he said. "But Eryndor sent a hawk. He saw Malrik in Ravkor. The Hollow Flame is stirring again."
Selene turned to him, her gaze haunted. "You weren't there when it ended. When we burned the city to stop him. He didn't just command armies, Kieran—he manipulated minds. He knew my thoughts before I spoke them. He branded his name into my soul."
Kieran crossed the room in two strides and gently cupped her face. "That was before. You're not the same woman who bled under his chains. You're stronger now. Fiercer."
Selene's voice trembled. "But I'm still the woman he broke."
"No," he whispered, brushing his lips against her brow. "You're the woman I chose to fight for—even when everything said I shouldn't. Even when fate chose your sister for me, and duty told me to walk away."
Selene clung to him, not as a queen, but as a woman afraid of the monster that haunted her history.
Then the doors burst open.
Eryndor strode in, travel-worn and grim. Behind him, Kael and Lysa bore expressions of restrained panic.
"You need to see this," he said.
Selene moved quickly, flanked by Kieran, as Eryndor unrolled the charred scroll on the war table. The room's light dimmed as the sigils on the parchment shimmered—dark glyphs written in blood and embers.
Lysa translated. "It's not just a warning. It's a curse."
Kael added, "He's marked the palace. That sigil is layered into the stone—every breath you take here feeds it."
Selene's heart pounded. "Then he's already inside."
Eryndor nodded. "And he left something else."
He slid a small box toward her. It was made of ashwood and bone, sealed with a blood rune only she could break.
Kieran growled. "Don't."
But Selene had no choice.
She placed her palm on the rune. The box opened with a click.
Inside was a lock of dark hair. A tiny, bloodstained cloth. A ring.
Her breath caught. "This… this is—"
Eryndor finished for her.
"Your son's. The one they told you died at birth."
Silence fell like a blade.
Kieran stiffened beside her. "Selene… you never told me you had a child."
"I didn't," she said hoarsely. "I was told he was stillborn. Years ago. But if Malrik has these…"
The truth dawned, chilling her blood.
Malrik hadn't come for vengeance alone.
He had taken her child—and raised him.
Kieran's voice turned to steel. "Then he raised a weapon. One made of your blood… and his lies."
Selene gripped the ring in her hand as tears traced down her cheek.
"This isn't just war anymore," she whispered.
"It's personal."