I was tired. The contract had left me drained, as though my very bones had been hollowed out and filled with fire. The tattoos still burned faintly across my skin, pulsing with black and white light beneath the silk sheets. The mark on my forehead glimmered with the faint rhythm of music, rising and falling like breath.
The kind of tired that sank deep into my bones, deeper than sleep could heal. My body felt heavy, almost foreign to me, like it still belonged to someone else.
The marks on my skin glowed faintly even when I tried to still them, black-and-white tattoos winding over my arms, shoulders, and back like vines of thorns. My eyes burned, my forehead ached where the silver mark pulsed, and my hair spilled long and white across the pillows.
I could hardly move. But my parents and siblings moved around me as though the entire world might shatter if they left me alone.
Lord Duskbane, my father, paced near the door, his fists clenching and unclenching. His voice snapped orders at servants who scrambled to obey.
"Boil water. Bring broth. No noise near her chamber. Double the guards outside the house. And not a word—do you hear me? Not a word of what you've seen tonight leaves these walls."
The servants bowed, wide-eyed, their faces pale. But fear has a way of slipping through cracks. I knew it would not take long before tongues wagged.
Lady Duskbane sat at my bedside, her hands clasped tightly around mine. Her eyes were swollen from tears, her lips pressed thin, but her gaze did not leave me for even a heartbeat. Every time I shifted, every time I sighed, she leaned closer, whispering, "Stay with me, my daughter. Stay with me."
Caelum stood tall at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, his body as still as a statue. But his eyes betrayed him. They followed every flicker of light from the marks on my skin, every rise and fall of my chest. He did not speak, but the air around him was taut, stretched like a bowstring ready to snap.
Selene sat quietly in a chair by the window, her pale hair glowing faintly in the lamplight. She seemed calm, but I saw her fingers twitch against her lap. Every few moments, her gaze flicked toward the door, sharp as a blade, watching for intruders.
Diana moved restlessly, pacing the room, her smirk gone. She tapped her fingers against her arms, muttering under her breath. "This can't be real. It shouldn't be real. How can it be real?" But she never left the room. Not once.
Maris, the youngest, knelt by the side of the bed, her small hands gripping the blankets. She said nothing, only stared at me with wide, dark eyes that glistened with unshed tears.
I wanted to comfort her, but my strength was gone.
Outside the chamber, the house was alive with whispers.
The servants had seen too much—the collapse, the tattoos, the glowing eyes. They tried to obey my father's command, but fear breeds gossip, and gossip spreads like fire in dry grass. By midnight, the entire household buzzed with rumors. By morning, the city whispered.
By the next night, the royal palace had heard. And beyond the palace, the neighbouring kingdoms pricked their ears to listen.
A girl of the Duskbane house had contracted with not one god, but three. Death, Life, and Music. The three who had never chosen anyone. Impossible. Unnatural. And yet the rumour was too wild, too delicious, too dangerous not to believe.
I lay in bed, weak and trembling, and already the world beyond the walls was sharpening its teeth.
I dreamed of the boy.
The vision the gods had given me burned behind my eyelids, sharp as if carved there. His hair was dark, his eyes steady, his back straight as he held the glowing sword. His crown shimmered faintly, half-born, waiting.
"With him," the gods had said.
"With him, you will build."
When I woke, my breath caught on my lips. I could not let the vision fade. I had to find him.
That evening, as the lamps burned low and my family's voices fell to whispers, I lifted my head. My voice was hoarse, but steady.
"Caelum," I said. My eldest brother's eyes snapped to me at once. He had not moved from the foot of the bed in hours.
"I need you," I whispered. For a moment, his mask almost cracked.
His jaw tightened, his arms lowered, his body leaned forward as if he had been waiting for this. "What do you need?"
I swallowed, my throat raw. "There is someone I must find. A boy. The gods showed him to me." My siblings exchanged glances, sharp and uneasy. My mother's grip on my hand tightened. My father's footsteps stilled.
"What boy?" Diana demanded, her voice brittle. "What nonsense is this?"
"Describe him," Caelum said firmly, cutting her off. His voice left no room for mockery.
I closed my eyes and summoned the vision again.
"Dark hair," I whispered. "Eyes like fire. A sword that glows faintly, like light breaking through shadow. He stands tall, proud. Behind him, I saw a crown—faint, almost hidden. He is meant to wear it, though he does not yet."
The room went silent. Selene's lips parted, but no sound came. Maris clutched the blanket tighter. My father's brow furrowed, deep lines carved into his skin.
My brother's eyes never left mine. "You want me to find him," Caelum said quietly.
"Yes." My voice was steady despite the weight in my chest. "The gods told me to build with him. To build the kingdom I want. If I don't find him, I can't fulfil what they commanded."
Caelum's jaw tightened. He looked at my father, then my mother, then back at me. "You realize what you ask," he said. "If others learn of this boy—if they suspect his place in the gods' plan—they will hunt him. They will kill him before you can reach him."
"That is why I ask you," I whispered. My eyes locked with his. For once, there was no scorn, no mockery. Only something harder, sharper—like steel drawn in the dark. "Find him for me, Caelum," I said. Tension filled the chamber like smoke.
My father's voice broke it first. "We should not speak of this here. Too many ears. Too many risks."
My mother pressed her lips thin, her eyes wet. "If the gods truly chose her… then everything has changed. Everything. We cannot be careless."
Diana's laughter was bitter, broken. "Changed? She has painted a target on us all. Do you not see it? The kingdoms will not celebrate this. They will fear it. Fear makes them dangerous."
Selene's voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp. "Fear or not, the gods have spoken. No one can unmake their will."
Maris finally spoke, her voice small but clear. "We must protect her."
All eyes turned back to me. I lay against the pillows, pale, weak, but my gaze did not waver. "The gods gave me a path," I said. "I will walk it. But I cannot do it alone. I need him. The boy. Help me find him."
The tattoos on my skin glowed faintly, the mark on my forehead pulsing like a heartbeat.
And in that silence, my brother Caelum gave his answer. "I will try to find him."