The room was heavy with the scent of amber and burning candles, shadows folding into the corners like whispered secrets. Caius's hand rested lightly on Seraphina's bare shoulder, tracing slow, deliberate patterns that sent shivers curling down her spine.
Their bodies tangled beneath silks and whispers, an electric dance of flesh and desire that erased everything else—except the faint, persistent echo of something far older.
"Do you feel it too?" she murmured against his skin, voice thick with both longing and fear.
His silver eyes met hers, darkened by sleepless nights and secrets. "Fragments," he admitted. "Memories I can't place… but they're there. Like dreams half-remembered."
Seraphina's fingers curled in his hair, anchoring herself to the moment even as the past clawed at her mind. "You're not alone. I was sent back—returned with power not given to others—to break a cycle older than kingdoms. A cycle written in prophecy, in a language no one else can read but me."
She pulled a tattered parchment from beneath her robes, delicate and faded, ink curling like serpents across the brittle paper.
"These are the words of the Elders' Tongue. Only those reborn carry the sight to understand it."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The prophecy says one must rise twice to end the war of blood and shadow."
Caius traced the symbols with a trembling finger, eyes widening. "And we are the key."
Her gaze met his, fierce and unyielding. "But there's more. The Order of the Veil—they've hunted those like us for centuries. They want to stop the cycle repeating, even if it means silence… forever."
A sudden chill passed between them. The night felt darker now, as if unseen eyes watched their every move.
He pulled her close, lips brushing hers—a promise and a warning all at once.
"Then we fight. Together."
She nodded, heart pounding not just with desire, but with the weight of destiny.
⸻
Later, in the ancient vault beneath the palace, Seraphina approached the stone pedestal where an obsidian dagger lay nestled beside a glowing sigil.
The moment her fingers brushed the hilt, the air shimmered.
Visions flooded her mind—
Flames licking at forgotten battlefields, voices chanting in a forgotten tongue, the echo of a curse that bound their souls through endless lifetimes.
She gasped, turning to Caius who had followed her silently.
"This dagger," she said, "responds only to those touched by the cycle."
He took her hand, strength and warmth grounding her.
Their journey was just beginning—and this time, the past would not claim them without a fight.