The next morning, the skies above Aurelius were a boiling sea of grey and violet.
Storms like this weren't weather—they were warnings.
Magic clashed above the ancient spires, and the dome-shaped protective barrier around the academy shimmered with silent tension. Somewhere far beyond its edges, someone powerful was watching.
Elle's Room — Dawn
The glyph on her shoulder was no longer faint.
It glowed—soft and steady, like a second heartbeat.
Elle stood before the mirror in silence. Her eyes had changed again, just slightly—deepening in color, like a memory rising from the depths. She hadn't told anyone.
Even Sora had been unusually quiet.
She understood.
When Vaeloren had appeared on the dueling platform yesterday—not through summoning, not through breach, but by will—something in the academy's foundation had cracked.
No one said it aloud, but she could feel it.
The world had started shifting around her.
There was a knock.
"Elle," Sora's voice came from behind the door, quiet. "The Oracle is here. She asked for you… by name.
The Observatory Hall
The Oracle of Aurelius was said to be older than time itself.
But to Elle's shock, the woman who sat in the great circular hall beneath the floating starlight dome looked barely thirty. Her skin was ashen, her hair long and white like woven fog, and her eyes—completely silver, no pupil.
She didn't look at Elle.
She simply knew.
"Come," the Oracle said.
Elle stepped forward, her boots echoing across the marble.
The hall's walls shimmered with projected constellations, star maps, lifelines. Time itself was visible here—moving in threads and pulses like music.
"You opened a gate that was not meant to open," the Oracle said, still not looking at her. "You woke the one sealed by chains older than this realm."
"I didn't do it on purpose," Elle replied, trying to remain steady.
"No," the Oracle agreed softly. "But your blood did."
That made Elle freeze.
"My... blood?"
The Oracle finally looked at her.
"Who do you think you are, child? You think you came to this place by chance? You think you simply have the gift of Sight?"
She lifted one hand—and Elle's shoulder burned.
The glyph shimmered into visibility even through her clothes.
The Oracle whispered:
"You are not a Seer, Elle Nightshade.
You are Dream-Blooded.
A Key.
A Curse.
And once... a Queen of Ash."
Elle's heart thundered.
"No," she breathed.
"Yes," the Oracle said. "In your first life, you chose the King of the Veil over the light. In your second, you sealed him with your own hand. In your third… you forgot. This is your fourth, and final, cycle."
"Cycle?" Elle asked. "What happens after the fourth?"
The Oracle rose from her seat.
Her shadow was vast—far greater than her form.
"You either awaken fully… or you are unmade."
The stars behind her twisted and broke into spirals of gold.
"This time, he remembers you first.
This time, he's not just waiting.
He's coming for what was promised."
Meanwhile, in the Shadows Beneath the Academy
Vaeloren stood in a chamber that hadn't existed until last night.
It had built itself around him—stone forming from nothing, ancient runes pressing themselves into place like they had been waiting.
He touched the edge of the obsidian wall.
Behind it pulsed something old and alive.
"She's starting to remember," he murmured.
Smoke coiled around his hand. "Good."
Behind him, a shadow appeared.
It bowed.
"Lord Vaeloren, the Deathborn tribes have begun to stir. They felt your return."
Vaeloren didn't look back. "Let them come. Let the realms shake."
A pause.
The shadow asked, "And the girl?"
He finally smiled. Not cruel. Not soft.
"She was always the one who opened the gate.
Now she must decide whether to shut it…
Or rule by my side again."
Elsewhere
The academy gates shuddered open with a thunderous boom.
Students gathered in the observation towers to look down.
A procession approached—dark, howling winds around them, seven cloaked riders with eyes glowing like wolves. Their leader rode a massive, black-furred beast—half lion, half nightmare.
They stopped before the outer guards.
"I am Kaine Thorne, Alpha of the Wild-Blooded," the rider at the front said. "We were summoned. By scent. By soul. By her."
He lifted his gaze to the tower.
To Elle.
Even across miles, their eyes locked.
She stumbled backward from the window.
"What was that?" Sora asked.
Elle didn't answer.
Because her glyph had flared again.
And this time… a second one had bloomed on her other shoulder.
A claw-shaped crescent.
That Night: A Dream That Wasn't a Dream
Elle lay in bed, but she wasn't asleep.
She floated in darkness.
And then—a field of ashes.
She stood barefoot. Wind swept through the dead grass. A shattered moon hung overhead, bleeding light.
And beside her stood Vaeloren.
Not crowned. Not cloaked.
Barefoot too, hands streaked in blood.
"This is where it ended last time," he said. "Do you remember?"
"I don't know anymore what's dream and what's real," she whispered.
He reached out—not to touch, but to offer his hand.
"Then let me show you."
Flashback: The First Lifetime
Elle wore armor. Black and silver. A crown of thorns.
The world was on fire.
Vaeloren stood before her, wounded. Mortal for once.
"You know what happens if you live," she told him, tears in her eyes.
He smiled softly. "And if I die, you'll forget me again."
"I sealed you for the world. Not for myself."
"And I forgave you."
She stepped forward and pressed her forehead to his.
"If I ever see you again… make me remember."
He kissed her then, like a promise that would echo through time.
She woke with a cry, clutching her chest.
The moon outside was full and red.
Her glyphs burned brighter than ever.
And in the mirror…
Vaeloren was there again.
But this time, so was she—in that same crown of thorns, flickering like a ghost behind her.
The academy bells tolled at midnight.
Only the most ancient students—those from Bloodlines or realms outside time—understood what that meant.
Midnight bells only rang when the Council summoned the cursed.
And Elle Nightshade had just been summoned.
Few had ever seen the Council Hall.
It wasn't a room so much as a realm—an echo of the original Academy, suspended between dimensions. Floating pillars twisted toward a sky of black fire, and above them loomed six thrones carved from star-iron and bone.
Each held a Highblood.
Elle stood in the center of the rune-scribed platform, her breath white from the cold. Her glyphs—now two and glowing brightly—shone through her jacket like living brands.
The voice that addressed her was neither male nor female, but a blend of both. High Chancellor Zepheris, Speaker of Realms.
"You are Elle Nightshade," they said. "Seer. Dream-Blooded. Marked by ash and claw."
Elle didn't speak.
Another voice—this one dark, amused. A woman in obsidian robes and a veil of living silk.
"And yet you opened the door we sealed in blood and myth. Why?"
"I didn't mean to," Elle said. "I didn't know what I was."
"And now you do?" a third voice asked. This one came from a throne of black glass where an old vampire sat, sipping from a goblet that pulsed.
"I know... I remember pieces," Elle said softly. "Enough to know he wasn't always a monster."
Gasps whispered among the gathered.
"You defend the King of Hell?" Zepheris asked.
"I defend truth."
"And if truth destroys everything?"
Elle met their eyes.
"Then let it burn."
The council fell silent.
But someone else had joined them—uninvited.
A cold wind swept the room.
Shadows curled.
And out of them stepped a tall figure draped in midnight velvet, crimson embroidery glowing faintly.
He bowed, elegant, and smiled.
> "Forgive the interruption.
I merely came to claim my seat…
as the last heir of the Crimson Court."
The Vampire Prince
The council stirred.
Chancellor Zepheris's voice sharpened. "You are exiled, Arien Dravain."
The vampire's smile widened. "Not anymore. The blood pacts were broken the moment she awakened. The moment he returned."
He looked at Elle, his eyes like garnets lit from within.
"You remember me, don't you?" he asked softly.
And—Elle did.
A brief flash:
She, in royal armor, leaning against a balcony of flame.
Arien beside her, laughing over a glass of nightwine.
"You may belong to the King," he had whispered. "But I will always be your second knife."
Back in the present, Elle whispered, "You were one of my generals."
"And your secret keeper," he said. "The only one who knew you would betray us all in the end."
He bowed again. "And yet… I still came."
The Council was in chaos.
Three Highbloods called for Arien's removal. Two called for Elle's imprisonment.
But Zepheris raised a hand.
"There is a precedent for this," they said. "The Trial of Three Shadows. We will allow her to stand before fate—and the three who represent the broken pacts."
Arien smiled. "Then we'll need the third."
"The Wolf," Zepheris said grimly. "Summon Kaine Thorne."
---
Later that night, in the Hall of Echoes, Elle stood between Arien and Kaine.
One a vampire, cool and calculating.
The other, a Wild-Blooded alpha, growling with fury and barely leashed rage.
"Why me?" Elle asked them both. "Why do I matter so much?"
Kaine stepped closer. "Because you're the Moon-Chosen. The bridge between blood and sky. The one the Wild Hunt followed in the Old War."
Arien scoffed. "Because you held the Veil. Because you sealed Vaeloren with your own soul. And because... despite everything... he still loves you."
Elle stepped back.
"No," she whispered.
But her glyphs flared. Both of them.
She remembered now.
The kiss in the ashes.
The crown she wore not because she was given it—but because she took it, to stop him from falling deeper into the void.
And failed.
They met in the South Tower, where only rule-breakers and banished spells lingered.
Students packed the atrium. Word had spread: the Death King's Seer was walking freely. A vampire prince had returned. The wolf-kin were gathering.
And at midnight—
The doors opened on their own.
And he stepped in.
Vaeloren Vireth.
No longer a flicker in mirrors.
Not a vision.
Not a ghost.
He wore no crown. Just dark robes and pale skin streaked with burn marks and runes that pulsed red.
The crowd went silent.
He didn't look at them.
Only at Elle.
Everyone held their breath.
Arien reached for his blade.
Kaine shifted, ready to lunge.
But Vaeloren… knelt.
Before Elle.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Only the King's voice echoed like thunder through the tower:
"You once said if I ever saw you again…
I should make you remember.
So tell me, Queen of Ash:
Do you remember who you are now?"
Elle's heart nearly stopped.
Because the answer wasn't no.
And it wasn't yes.
It was:
> "Not yet…
But I'm starting to."