Elira stood on the western battlement of Vael'Harth, hands braced against the cold stone as wind whipped around her. Below, where broken earth met mist, stood the man whose name she had only recently learned—and yet, somehow, she had known him her whole life.
Eryx Thandrel.
He looked like he belonged in a portrait—cloaked in midnight blue, silver clasps glinting along his collar, his white-gold hair unruffled despite the wind. Too perfect. Too clean. Like something painted instead of born.
Behind him, the mist moved like it had a mind of its own—uncoiling in slow, deliberate tendrils. Shadows moved within it. Figures. Twisted forms that once may have been men.
Kael stood at her side, as still and sharp as the sword strapped to his back.
"That's not him," he said, voice tight.
Elira's gaze didn't move. "It is," she murmured. "But he's… hollowed out."
Kael clenched his jaw. "He still smiles like Eryx."
"And the King uses that voice like a blade," she said softly.
Then, without another word, Kael turned and started down the stairs.
Elira's breath caught in her chest. Every part of her screamed to stop him—to reach for his hand, to beg him to stay.
But she didn't.
Because some fights were meant to be faced alone.
And this one belonged to Kael.
She stayed on the battlement, watching with her heart in her throat as he stepped into the open courtyard. The air below shimmered faintly with old magic. The kind that remembered blood.
Eryx turned as Kael approached, a crooked smile curling on his lips.
"Kael," he drawled. "Still wearing that same scowl. You'd think time would soften you."
Kael didn't rise to the bait. "Why?"
Eryx spread his arms like a preacher. "Why what? Why let the King in? Why become this? Why finally stop pretending to be part of a dying kingdom?"
"All of it," Kael said, voice low.
Eryx exhaled a soft laugh. "Because I saw what you didn't. I saw the ending. I just… got there first."
"You didn't see an ending," Kael snapped. "You let a monster wear your face."
"No," Eryx said, eyes gleaming. "I let a god free me."
Above them, Elira's skin prickled. His voice didn't just carry across the courtyard—it echoed, layered, as if another voice spoke beneath his.
The Undying King.
But Eryx wasn't a puppet.
He had chosen this.
And that made him even more dangerous.
Kael stepped closer, the tension in his shoulders wound so tight it hurt to watch. "Leave now. Or I'll cut you down where you stand."
Eryx tilted his head. "Still playing knight? You always did hate getting your hands dirty."
Kael's expression didn't change. "Try me."
But Eryx wasn't finished.
"I saw her, you know," he said, eyes flicking up to the battlements. "Elira. In the vision, when the crystal broke. She was wrapped in fire. Wearing a crown of thorns."
Kael's body tensed.
"She's not just the Queen's heir," Eryx said, voice like silk laced with venom. "She's the last lock. When she breaks—he rises."
Elira gasped.
Her knees buckled.
Mira was suddenly beside her, gripping her shoulders. "What is it?"
"He's reaching into me," Elira whispered. "Through her memories. Through mine."
She could feel it—old pain, ancient grief, boiling up like something unhealed. The Queen's magic hadn't just given her power. It had left scars.
"He's pressing into the wounds she left behind," Elira said, shaking. "He's trying to turn them into doors."
Her vision blurred. Her blood felt wrong.
"Help me anchor," she breathed.
Mira dropped to her knees and pressed steady hands to Elira's back. "You're not alone. Breathe. Fight him."
Elira whispered the old words—binding words. Words to silence the memories trying to scream.
And slowly, the shaking stopped.
Below, Kael's hand drifted to his sword.
But Eryx raised his hand, palm up.
"No need for that—yet," he said smoothly. "I didn't come to fight today."
"Then why come at all?"
"To offer you a choice."
Kael's face twisted. "What choice?"
Eryx's smile turned sharp. "Open the temple. Give me the soul-root. Do it willingly, and I'll spare your little rebellion. Her life. Yours."
Kael's voice was ice. "Or?"
Eryx shrugged, casual. "Or I rip this mountain apart and take it anyway."
And that was it.
The moment shattered.
The battlement door slammed open as Elira strode down the steps, cloak swirling behind her like a storm, eyes burning violet.
"You want the temple?" she called out. "Come and bleed for it."
Eryx turned—and for a moment, his smile faltered.
"You are her," he said softly. "Not just by blood. By fire."
Elira raised her hands—and the runes etched in her skin lit up like stars.
Eryx laughed, stepping back. "Oh, I've missed this."
Then he waved a hand—and the fog behind him surged forward.
The siege had begun.
The King's Disciples rushed the cliff like an avalanche of shadows. Some wore faces. Others didn't. Magic cracked along the earth, illusions burst like glass, and twisted things crawled from the fog with limbs that bent wrong.
Mira and Jareth barked orders, loosing enchanted arrows. The soldiers of Vael'Harth fought with blades and spells, but the wave kept coming.
Kael and Eryx met in the center of the courtyard.
Their swords clashed—once. The sound echoed like thunder.
Elira turned away. She had no time to watch. Her hands lifted, magic pouring from her fingertips. A dome of gold and violet energy bloomed around the temple gates. A shield—woven with her blood and will.
But even that wasn't enough.
Something cracked inside her.
A memory.A voice.A scream.
Suddenly—
She wasn't in Vael'Harth anymore.
She stood in a hall of shadows.
Stone underfoot, stained in blood. A throne made of ash. And on it—a woman who wore Elira's face.
But older.
Tired.
Dying.
"You came too late," the Queen whispered, her voice ragged.
Elira tried to reach her. But the floor split.
The Queen reached out, eyes bleeding fire. "When you rise, he rises with you. You are the last chain. And when you break—"
Elira screamed.
She snapped back to the present.
The shield flickered.
Soldiers were falling.
Kael and Eryx clashed again and again, power tearing through the air. Elira's hands trembled. Her magic stuttered.
She had a choice.
She could call on the Queen's full power—unlock everything, every spell and memory. Risk losing herself.
Or fight as she was.
Elira.
The girl who had survived chains and fire.
She looked up.
Eryx was watching her.
His eyes glowed.
"You remember now, don't you?" he said softly.
"You remember what you are."