That night, Elena woke to silence. No music from the streets....No laughter.... Only stillness.
She turned—and froze.
A figure stood over Adrian's sleeping form, a dagger poised above his chest.
"Adrian!" she screamed, lunging forward.
The intruder whirled, mask gleaming silver. The blade arced toward her instead.
Adrian woke in a surge, sword flashing from its sheath. Steel clashed, sparks flying. The masked assassin hissed, moving with inhuman speed.
Elena scrambled back, clutching the Codex. Its pages flared crimson, symbols leaping like fire. Instinct guided her—she raised her hand, and a blast of searing light erupted, throwing the assassin across the room.
The figure crashed into the mirror. Glass shattered, shards raining like stars.
For a heartbeat, Elena's reflection lingered in the fragments—smiling with blood-red eyes.
Pinned under Adrian's blade, the assassin writhed. His mask cracked down the center, falling away.
Elena gasped.
He was young—barely older than she—his face pale, hollow-eyed but carved into his skin, across his jaw and throat, were symbols that pulsed faintly, the mark of the Order.
"They'll never stop," the boy rasped, blood on his lips "You are theirs....You always were."
Adrian's blade pressed harder "Who sent you?"
The boy laughed, broken and bitter. "No one sends us. We are born to hunt you. To kill or be killed." His gaze found Elena, wide with something like awe "And you… you're the end of us all."
Then, before Adrian could stop him, the boy bit down on something hidden in his teeth. His body convulsed, the symbols flaring once, then dimming to ash.
Elena staggered back, trembling "He—he chose to die."
Adrian's face was hard, grief shadowed in his eyes "They all do... That's the Order's leash."
The broken mask lay between them, its hollow eyes staring up.
When the chamber was finally cleared, and the boy's ashes swept away, Elena sat trembling at the edge of the bed. Her hands still glowed faintly with the Codex's power.
Adrian knelt before her, taking them gently. His storm-gray eyes softened, raw "You saved me."
Tears welled in her eyes "I don't even know how. It just… happened."
He lifted one hand, pressing her palm to his lips "Whatever it is, it's part of you. Don't fear it."
Her throat tightened "But what if Seraphine is right? What if I was made for this? Forged for something I can't control?"
Adrian's gaze burned into hers, fierce and unwavering "Then let me be the chain or the fire. Whatever you need.... I swore to face it with you, Elena. That hasn't changed."
Her tears broke, falling freely. She leaned into him, their lips meeting in a kiss fierce with desperation. His arms wrapped around her, anchoring her, as if to keep her from shattering like the mirrors around them.
In the silence that followed, the Codex pulsed warmly, like a heartbeat syncing with her own.
But outside, in the mist-laden streets, unseen eyes watched and the Order moved closer.
The sanctuary felt different that evening.
The walls of Seraphine's hidden refuge, once warm with candlelight and ancient chants, now seemed to hum with a dissonant energy. Elena felt it as she crossed the courtyard—the low thrum in the air, the faint metallic taste at the back of her throat, as though the stone itself was bracing for what was to come.
She tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the cool night air and the presence of Adrian beside her. His hand brushed hers, a fleeting touch that grounded her even as her heart raced. The conversations they'd had since Carthia still echoed in her chest—truths shared, secrets uncovered, wounds not yet healed.
But tonight, the air carried tension thicker than grief.
Seraphine had summoned them both to the Hall of Whispers. A rare thing, Elena had been told. The hall was a chamber used only when decisions had to be made—decisions that could alter the future of entire bloodlines.
As they entered, the sound struck first: the hushed whispers of cloaked figures gathered in the half-circle of the chamber. Elders, warriors, seers—all of them faces Elena did not know, though their eyes weighed heavy on her.
At the center stood Seraphine, veiled in silver, her posture regal, voice steady as she spoke:
"The Rose awakens. The Codex bends to Elena's hand and yet, the Order tightens its noose."
Her words echoed like a dirge. She extended her arm toward Elena, beckoning her forward.
"Elena of the Roseblood line," Seraphine intoned, "your steps have carried you further than any before. You stand where others have fallen but the path ahead demands more than courage. It demands loyalty."
Elena swallowed hard... Loyalty. The word felt like a chain.
"What do you ask of me?" she said, her voice quiet but clear.
Seraphine's veil tilted, the faintest curve of a smile in her tone "An oath... To the sanctuary... To me. That your power will serve the Rose and not your heart."
The chamber stirred, whispers rising like a wave. Elena's pulse quickened. Not her heart? She glanced sideways, where Adrian stood at her flank, his storm-gray eyes already dark with suspicion.
"What does that mean?" Adrian's voice cut through the hall like a blade.
Seraphine's head turned, her tone cool, edged "It means that love has weakened champions before. Desire clouds judgment, bends destiny. If Elena is to wield what blooms in her blood, she cannot be bound to a man already cursed by the Order's shadow."
Gasps rippled through the gathering. Elena felt heat rush to her cheeks, anger burning at the casual cruelty of the words.
"She is not yours to command," Adrian growled, stepping forward, hand brushing the hilt of his sword.
Seraphine's gaze fell on him, her voice soft but sharp as glass "And you, child of the broken line, are not fit to guard what you cannot even face within yourself."
The silence after that struck deeper than any shout.
Elena's hands shook at her sides, fury and hurt twisting in her chest. She stepped forward before Adrian could, her voice trembling but strong.
"You want me to choose between him and the Rose," she said, the words tasting like ash. "But what you forget, Seraphine, is that without him, I would not have survived the trials. Without him, the Codex would have devoured me."
Her voice rose "If my heart disqualifies me, then perhaps the Rose chose the wrong vessel."
The chamber erupted—shouts, whispers, accusations thrown like stones.
But Seraphine's voice silenced them all "You dare challenge me?"
The veiled woman stepped closer, and for the first time Elena felt the raw power radiating from her—the weight of centuries of knowledge, the pulse of a will that had broken and bent countless others.
Seraphine's hand lifted, and in her palm bloomed a rose made of living fire, its petals dripping sparks. The chamber dimmed, shadows curling away from her like frightened animals.
"You do not yet know the cost of defiance," Seraphine said, her voice low, resonant "But you will."
Adrian's hand was suddenly on Elena's shoulder, tugging her back. She could feel the rigid tension in him, his body taut as a bowstring. His other hand had already slipped to the pommel of his blade.
"Enough," Adrian snarled "If you want to test loyalty, then test mine first but if you dare use her—"
Seraphine's laugh was soft, dangerous "You think I have to test what is already written?"
The fire-rose in her hand flickered—and then with a sharp twist, she crushed it to ash. Sparks flared and died, and the whispers in the hall fell silent.
"Tonight," Seraphine said coldly, "we see what blooms when masks are broken."
The torches in the chamber guttered, flames bowing low as though choked by an unseen wind.
And for the first time since stepping foot into the sanctuary, Elena wondered if they had walked willingly into their doom.
The meeting dissolved into fragments of noise. Elders murmured, warriors argued, seers muttered omens half-swallowed by the echo of Seraphine's words but to Elena, the hall felt narrowed to a single line of fire drawn between Seraphine's veiled figure and Adrian's taut stance beside her.
She could still feel the ghost of the fire-rose's heat on her skin, its memory burning her more than the sparks had. Seraphine had wielded that magic with a grace both terrible and casual, as though centuries of power were nothing more than a veil she wore and shed at will.
"Elena" Adrian's voice was close, low, as if meant for her alone. His hand pressed lightly against the small of her back "We shouldn't stay here."
But leaving wasn't that simple. Eyes—dozens of them—followed her every breath. Some were sharp with judgment, others glittered with curiosity, and still others glowed faintly with hunger. She wasn't just Elena anymore. She was the Rose's chosen vessel.
Running will make us look weak," she whispered back.
Adrian's jaw tightened "Sometimes survival matters more than pride."
Before she could answer, Seraphine's voice swept across the hall, silencing the whispers.