The word written in ash haunted her.
"Soon."
Not a threat. Not a promise.
A prophecy.
And prophecies, Seraphina knew, had a way of making themselves real.
She didn't sleep that night.
Not because she was afraid.
But because something in the air had shifted.
Like a whisper behind a locked door.
It started the next morning.
Small things.
A maid found in the east wing, eyes wide open, body untouched—yet lifeless.
A blood-stained goblet left in the library… and no one remembered drinking from it.
A Councilman failed to arrive at the war table.
When guards found him, he was standing alone in the dark, muttering to someone who wasn't there.
Lucien dragged him to the queen's chambers himself.
"He kept repeating the same phrase," Lucien said. "Over and over."
Seraphina turned from the balcony, brows furrowed.
"What phrase?"
Lucien's voice was grim.
"The circle has no face.
The circle has no end.
We are already inside."
The councilman sobbed as if it were prayer.
And Seraphina felt the first tendrils of dread.
Not fear.
Dread.
Mirell confirmed it by dusk.
"It's begun," she said. "They've sent a Whisperer."
Seraphina's blood went cold.
"A mindwalker?"
"Worse," Mirell whispered. "A Dream-Splitter."
Lucien stiffened. "I thought those were extinct."
"They aren't extinct," Mirell said. "They're hidden. And one of them is in your court now."
A Dream-Splitter was no ordinary telepath.
They didn't speak to your mind.
They tore it open.
Seraphina looked toward the castle walls, suddenly aware of every shadow.
"So… anyone could already be infected?"
Mirell nodded. "Even you."
Within two days, four more servants had been found dead in their sleep.
One of the guards began screaming in the great hall, stabbing his own ears before they could stop him.
Even the strong began to fray.
Lucien woke with bloody palms and no memory of how they'd gotten there.
Seraphina's own dreams twisted into nightmares. She saw herself on the throne, bones jutting from her hands like claws, fire consuming her court.
And the voices…
Whispers, constant and cruel, just beneath her skin.
"You will fall."
"Your crown is a shackle."
"He will betray you."
She called a private council—no scribes, no witnesses.
Just the original six.
Mirell.
Lord Malrik.
Anessa, the Archivist.
Thorne, Master of War.
Velis, the Blood Mage.
And Lucien.
She stood at the head of the obsidian table and laid her hand on fire.
A flare of heat—pure, searing truth.
"Someone in this room," she said, "has let the Circle in."
Mirell closed her eyes. "You won't find it with threats. This is deeper than loyalty."
Velis spoke up. "The mind can be bent without knowing it."
"Then we test the mind," Seraphina said.
A dangerous ritual.
Rare. Forbidden.
Seraphina allowed Velis to perform it—one by one, piercing through memories like needles through silk.
The first five passed.
Mirell.
Thorne.
Malrik.
Anessa.
Velis himself.
But when Lucien stepped forward…
The flame dimmed.
Just slightly.
Barely a flicker.
But enough.
Seraphina's heart stopped.
"Again," she whispered.
Velis repeated the rite.
This time, the fire flared—then choked.
And Lucien gasped, stumbling back as blood poured from his nose.
"NO!" he shouted, clutching his head. "I haven't—I would never—"
Seraphina backed away, chest tight.
"You've been touched."
Lucien fell to his knees, shaking. "They got into me… in the cathedral… when I was alone. I didn't know—I didn't feel it."
But she did.
Now.
She ordered him confined.
Not chained.
Not harmed.
But watched. Always.
Lucien didn't fight it.
He met her gaze as they led him away, eyes hollow.
"I would never betray you," he whispered.
Seraphina didn't reply.
Because something inside her already had.
That night, a symbol appeared on the walls of her chamber.
Written in blood.
A perfect circle.
Open in one place.
Almost closed.
Almost.
A whisper followed in her own voice—though she hadn't spoken it.
"When the fire turns inward, the queen shall devour herself."
She stood alone beneath the moonlight, heart pounding, eyes wide.
The enemy was no longer at the gates.
It was in her dreams.
In her thoughts.
In her love.
And now… it was in her.