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Chapter Three: Flames Beneath the Ice
The night air was thick with tension, the kind that settled deep in the bones and refused to be shaken. Evelyne's heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out the distant rustle of leaves and the faint howling of wolves far beyond the forest's edge.
Prince Lucien Drakovar stepped into the clearing, his white cloak shimmering faintly in the moonlight like a ghost. His eyes—cold and calculating—never left Evelyne's face as if he were trying to read the very thoughts swirling behind her pale blue gaze.
Kael stood between them, a living wall of muscle and steel, his blackened sword resting casually in one hand but ready to strike in an instant. The lines of his jaw were tight, and every inch of his posture screamed warning.
Evelyne swallowed hard, feeling like prey caught between two ruthless hunters—one who promised salvation and one who embodied death itself.
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"You don't belong here," Lucien said smoothly, voice like silk sliding over sharpened blades. "Velmire is no place for a noble girl playing at rebellion."
Evelyne squared her shoulders. "I'm no one's plaything."
Lucien's smile flickered, amused but cold. "Yet here you are, running into the heart of a cursed forest with a murderer for company. Tell me, Evelyne, what do you really seek?"
Kael's voice cut through the chill. "She seeks freedom—from lies, from chains, and from the ghosts that haunt this land."
Lucien's eyes flickered to Kael, then back to Evelyne. "And what if I told you freedom comes at a price higher than your bloodline can pay?"
Evelyne's pulse quickened. "I've paid enough already."
The prince stepped closer, lowering his voice. "There's a darkness stirring in the north, Evelyne. A power that could tear this world apart—or remake it. I offer you a chance to be part of that change."
A flicker of something dark and tempting ignited inside her. The thought of power, control over her own destiny, was intoxicating.
Kael growled low in warning. "Beware his words. Princes like him weave webs of silver lies."
Lucien shrugged, unaffected. "Believe what you will. But remember—alliances can be forged, and enemies made. Choose wisely."
Without another word, he turned and vanished into the shadows, leaving a whisper of frost behind.
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Kael lowered his sword and looked at Evelyne, his gray eyes fierce but unreadable.
"He's dangerous," Kael said softly. "More than you know."
Evelyne nodded, her mind racing. The prince's words had planted a seed—an idea that maybe, just maybe, there was more to her fate than a forced marriage or a lonely death.
"What do I do now?" she asked quietly.
Kael studied her for a long moment. "You learn. You fight. And you survive. Because if the prophecy is true—if the skyborn blood in you awakens—the whole realm will come hunting."
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The days that followed were a whirlwind of secret lessons and whispered warnings. Kael became Evelyne's reluctant mentor, guiding her through the forgotten arts of magic and combat. She learned to summon the faint flicker of mana that danced beneath her skin, a silver flame that could both heal and destroy.
Her training was brutal and relentless, pushing her to the edge of exhaustion. But with every step, Evelyne felt her strength grow—not just in body or magic, but in spirit.
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One evening, as the first pale light of dawn crept through the trees, Kael sat beside her by a dying campfire. His armor was dented and stained, but his eyes were softer than before.
"Tell me," he said quietly, "why did you run? What haunts you beyond the warlord's shadow?"
Evelyne hesitated, then spoke the truth she had buried deep inside.
"My mother was a sorceress," she whispered. "She was burned at the stake when I was a child, accused of consorting with dragons. I was hidden away to protect me. But the mark—this flame—it's her legacy. I fear it will be the death of me."
Kael's gaze darkened. "You're not the first to bear such a curse. And you won't be the last."
He reached out, his rough hand brushing a stray silver lock from her face. The touch was electric, sending warmth through the cold night.
"Whatever comes," he said, voice low and urgent, "you won't face it alone."
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But as the days passed, the forest's shadows grew longer and more restless. Strange whispers clawed at Evelyne's dreams, and the dragon's mark burned hotter—sometimes with a fierce, wild hunger she could barely control.
One night, under the same blood moon that had watched over her flight, Evelyne awoke screaming. Her skin shimmered with silver flames, casting eerie light over the gnarled trees.
Kael was at her side in an instant, gripping her shoulders firmly.
"Breathe," he commanded. "Focus on me."
She fought to calm the raging fire inside her, but it wasn't enough. The flames spilled out, weaving into a fiery dragon silhouette that roared in the night air—before fading to ash.
Kael's eyes were wide, but steady. "You're awakening faster than I expected."
Evelyne swallowed the fear clawing at her throat. "What does that mean?"
He looked toward the dark horizon. "It means the realm's fate is tied to you now more than ever. And that our enemies will come—sooner, and in greater numbers."
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As dawn broke over Velmire, Evelyne felt the weight of destiny pressing down, but also something else: hope. A fierce, stubborn hope that even in the darkest woods, a spark could survive.
She met Kael's gaze, determination blazing between them.
"Then let them come," she said. "I will not run again."
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