Lucien had always known the Emperor didn't trust him.
But standing now in the Flame Temple, holding the scroll in his trembling hands, he realized something worse:
The Emperor had never feared him.
He had planned him.
---
The scroll Elias found wasn't just proof of a prophecy.
It was a royal decree — signed in the Emperor's own hand, sealed in blood — commissioning a high-circle summoning spell to drag a soul across realms.
**Target: Soul with latent elemental chaos
Purpose: Experimental magical weapon
Host vessel: Royal bloodline (Lucien)**
Lucien stared at the words, his chest tightening.
**He wasn't cursed.
He was made.
Crafted.
Like a weapon forged in secret.**
Elias stood beside him, pale, voice barely above a whisper.
"You weren't chosen by fate," he said. "You were ordered."
Lucien felt something twist in his chest — the sigil glowing faintly.
Kael burst through the doors moments later, eyes locked on the scroll.
He stopped short, reading it. Then turned to Elias.
"You told him?"
"I showed him," Elias snapped. "Truth isn't betrayal."
Kael turned to Lucien. "You shouldn't have seen this."
Lucien's voice cracked. "Why? Because it proves I was never yours to protect? Just something your father built?"
"No," Kael said, jaw clenched. "Because now… you'll want revenge."
Lucien's hands trembled.
The curse pulsed under his skin. Not in pain. Not in heat.
In something… new.
The air around him shimmered — like the space was cracking slightly.
Kael's eyes widened. "Your aura—Lucien, stop—"
"I'm not doing anything," Lucien said. "It's doing it on its own."
Elias stepped forward, magic flaring at his fingertips.
"Lucien, listen to me. Your curse is tied to your *emotions* now. If you let this spiral—"
"Then let it," Lucien snapped. "Maybe it's time this kingdom burned."
The wind howled.
The temple walls rattled.
And behind Lucien, the altar cracked straight down the center.
---
Later that evening, Lucien was summoned again to the throne hall.
But this time, he didn't go in robes.
He went in black. Unmarked. Plain.
The Emperor stood waiting. No crown. No advisors. Just silence between them.
"You read the scroll," he said flatly.
"Yes," Lucien answered. "You summoned me. You used me."
"I created a weapon the world would fear."
Lucien stepped forward. "You created a soul you can't control."
The Emperor raised a brow. "Then choose your binding. Elias or Kael. End this before it unravels."
Lucien stared at him.
Then smiled — slowly, dangerously.
"No."
The Emperor's eyes narrowed. "No?"
"I'm not choosing either of them," Lucien said. "Not yet."
Gasps echoed from the shadows. A court scribe dropped his pen.
"You'll die," the Emperor hissed.
"Then let me burn," Lucien said softly. "But I'll burn on my terms."
And with that, he turned and walked away.
---
That night, Lucien stood alone in the rain.
The curse inside him pulsed… but not painfully.
It felt alive.
Not fire.
Not flame.
But something older.
Something awakening.
And far beneath the palace, in a sealed prison…
Someone stirred.
A voice whispered in the dark:
"Riven…"