The cold air hit me the moment the door slid open. Two guards stepped inside, their footsteps loud against the stone floor. One grabbed my arm without a word.
"Up," he ordered.
My legs trembled as I stood. The cuffs bit into my wrists, but I forced myself not to wince. I wanted to scream, to fight. But the silence in the corridor swallowed every sound.
They led me down a twisting hallway. Torches burned with blue flames, casting strange shadows that danced on the damp walls. I could hear my heartbeat pounding loud enough to drown out everything else.
At the end, a massive door stood open, revealing a vast chamber. Blue torchlight flickered across the walls, illuminating a huge circular table. Around it sat seven figures, all masked—smooth black masks that barely showed their eyes. Their faces reflected faintly on the glossy surface, but they looked more like shadows than people.
The circle was silent for a moment. Then, from across the table, a new voice cut through—the voice of the prince. His presence sucked the air from the room. "You meddle in things you don't understand, Elira Vale."
My breath caught. "How do you know my name?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward, his masked face unreadable. "The poison you carry is a binding. It ties you to this realm—and to me."
I shook my head in disbelief. "I don't want this. I want to go home."
A chuckle, dark and amused, echoed from the circle. "Home is no longer yours to return to."
I looked around, panic flooding my chest. "What does poison mean? What kind of curse is this?"
The tall man smiled coldly. "Not all poison kills the body. Some kill the soul."
The chamber seemed to close in on me. The faces behind masks felt like knives, slicing through every hope I had.
"Why me?" I whispered. "Why am I the one?"
"You are the spark," the prince said quietly. "And sparks can start fires."
—
The chamber held its breath.
Blue torchlight made every mask look flat and cruel. The seven at the table were statues until someone moved them. I felt like a bug on a table — everyone could see me, judge me, decide what to do with me.
"You are the spark," the prince had said. The words still echoed in my ears, like metal struck and left inside my skull.
A sudden wind cut across the room. Torches guttered, then threw a wild light that slashed shadows into jagged teeth. The door at the far end of the hall slammed open and a sheet of pale, humming light spilled in.
A figure stepped through it.
"Stop!" the woman shouted. Her voice was not light or sweet. It was sharp and certain. Exactly the kind of voice that made people turn.
"Elira!" My own name came from her like a command and a relief at once.
My heart jumped so violently I thought it would tear my ribs. The woman was Lyra — silver-blonde hair catching the torchlight, a long robe that thrummed with runes, and in one hand a polished staff. Magic smoked along the staff's length in a thin blue thread.
"Elira Vale," Lyra said, stepping forward. "You will not harm her."
The court's murmur turned into startled noise. A masked noble barked a question.
"Who dares—?"
"Lyra Sereth," she answered, not as a shout but as a fact. "You know me."
She didn't wait for permission. Lyra raised her staff and a ring of shimmering light folded up around her and me like a second skin. It moved with a soft sound, like silk drawn tight.
"Elira!" Lyra said under her breath. "Clench your jaw. Stay steady."
The world contracted to the small space under Lyra's shield. I smelled herbs and iron. My wrists itched from the chains. My mouth tried to form 'Why?', but my voice died in the tight of the silver chain at my chest.
Kaelen watched. He did not move at first. Watching was his weapon. He stepped down a stair as the shield went up, face unreadable but his eyes glinting like a blade.
"Bold," he said, "But Foolish."
Lyra did not blink. "I prefer decisive," she shot back.