The palace of Dravenholt awoke to whispers.
They came not from servants or courtiers, but from the mana itself — soft vibrations thrumming through the marble veins of Solara's Crest. The empire's wards, ancient and golden, hummed with unease as if recognizing something foreign slipping through their lattice.
Adrian felt it first.The Boundless Core stirred like a heartbeat against his ribs, not with violence this time — but with recognition.
Something familiar approaches.
He stood on the high terrace of the west wing, dawn bleeding across the horizon, when the crimson mist began to gather on the far edge of the sky.
A ripple of mana split the air — not sharp, but elegant, deliberate. Then, with the grace of falling petals, the crimson Veil unfolded.
From it stepped Carmila Noctharyn.
She was as beautiful as she was terrible — a shadow carved in moonlight and blood. Her dress shimmered between silk and mist, her eyes glowing faint amethyst beneath the soft hood of her cloak. The instant her boots touched the marble, the sun itself dimmed slightly, as if bowing.
"Adrian."
His name left her lips like a memory, equal parts relief and reprimand.
Adrian's pulse faltered. "Carmila… what are you doing here?"
She moved closer, her steps silent, the Veil closing behind her. "You didn't answer the calls through the Crimson Link. The mana across the continents trembled again. The Queen—" her expression tightened, "—fears the Core is waking."
Before he could answer, another voice rang sharply from the colonnade.
"Who gave you permission to breach Dravenholt airspace?"
Nymera's tone cut through the air like sunlight through frost. She approached, armor catching the dawn, emerald eyes bright with contained fury. A squad of imperial sentinels followed, hands hovering over their weapons — though none dared move too close to the vampire princess who could dissolve into mist and reappear behind them.
Carmila turned her gaze toward Nymera — calm, cold, assessing. "Princess Nymera Dravenholt, I presume. The Lioness of Dawn."
"And you must be Carmila Noctharyn," Nymera replied, every word polished steel. "The one who nearly broke the world three weeks ago."
"Nearly?" Carmila smiled faintly. "You're welcome."
Nymera took a step forward. "You shouldn't be here. This is imperial territory—"
"This is where he is," Carmila interrupted softly. "And where the Core stirs again." Her gaze slid to Adrian. "You should have told me."
Adrian raised a hand, trying to steady the rising storm between them. "Both of you—please."
But Nymera's patience was already fraying. "You think you can walk into my empire, spouting omens, and command him like he's yours to protect?"
Carmila's smile faded. "I don't command him. I care for him. That's more than politics or pride."
Nymera's eyes narrowed. "Care looks different from obsession where I come from."
The air between them thickened, the clash of mana visible — sunlight and moonfire colliding, gold and crimson coiling in the air like opposing storms.
"Enough," Adrian snapped, his voice carrying a note of power that silenced even the wards. "You're both here because of me. But if you keep this up, you'll wake it before I can stop it."
That made them both freeze.The faint sigil beneath his chest was glowing again — not fiercely, but with the rhythm of something listening.
Carmila's expression softened, worry flickering behind her composure. "Adrian…"
Nymera stepped closer too, the anger in her gaze giving way to concern. "You're trembling."
He exhaled shakily. "It's sensing both of you — the contrast. Sunlight and bloodlight. It's… remembering."
A pulse of white light rippled outward, faint but unmistakable. Across the continent, mages felt a sudden surge of pressure, like a second heartbeat passing through the sky.
The Boundless Core was not awakening.It was recognizing.
Later, in the Imperial Sanctum, the three of them stood within a ring of mana seals that glowed like molten gold. The Empress herself had been informed, but no soldiers were allowed inside.
Carmila traced the sigils with her fingers, her tone all calculation now. "It's resonating with both of us. The Core reacts to extreme dualities — light and dark, creation and blood. Perhaps it's drawn to balance."
"Or conflict," Nymera said dryly. "Which means we should stop standing in the same room before it tears a hole in reality."
Adrian shook his head. "No. I think it's more than that. It's… trying to connect. It's feeling the same threads that bind both of you to me."
Nymera blinked. "Threads?"
Carmila met Adrian's eyes. "You mean bonds."
Silence followed — heavy, intimate.Even the mana quieted, as though listening.
Nymera looked away first, her voice low. "You're saying this Core reacts to emotion."
"Yes," Carmila replied softly. "To love, to fear, to devotion — anything strong enough to shake a soul. It doesn't understand the difference. To it, all feeling is fuel."
Nymera's jaw tightened. "Then you're saying it's feeding on—"
"Us," Adrian finished. "On the three of us."
The light flared again — faint, white-gold — and the sigils trembled, unable to decide if they belonged to sunlight or blood.
When the meeting ended, Carmila lingered by the crystal archway.Nymera stood beside her, arms crossed, watching Adrian speak quietly with one of the imperial magisters.
"You really do care for him," Nymera said finally.
Carmila didn't deny it. "I love him. Enough to fear what he'll become."
Nymera's lips curved faintly, though there was no mockery in it. "Then I suppose we're the same, in the ways that matter."
"Except you still believe he can stay human."
"And you don't?"
Carmila's gaze softened, distant. "I believe he was human. And that's what terrifies me most."
Nymera didn't answer. They both turned as Adrian approached, his expression tired but steady.
"We'll figure this out," he said. "Together."
Neither woman spoke — but both nodded.
For now, that was enough.
Outside, the skies over Dravenholt burned with twilight gold, but somewhere beyond them, a pale crack opened briefly in the firmament — a fracture invisible to all but the oldest gods.
And through it, something vast stirred, whispering:
So the heart remembers.
Then the seal weakens.