Seraphina's POV
The cell door exploded open with a bang that made me jump.
"Get up!" a guard barked. "High Priestess wants you prepared for tonight."
My heart hammered as two guards grabbed my arms and hauled me to my feet. Prepared? What did that mean?
They dragged me up the dungeon stairs, through corridors I'd never seen before, until we reached a room that smelled like incense and something else—something that made my skin crawl.
High Priestess Morvana stood waiting, her completely black eyes fixed on me. Behind her stood my mother, Queen Vivienne, looking as beautiful and cold as always.
"Leave us," Morvana commanded the guards.
The door slammed shut. I was alone with the two women who'd just decided I should die.
"Sit," my mother said, pointing to a chair.
I didn't move. "Why am I here?"
"Because you need to understand what's about to happen," Morvana said, circling me like a vulture. "King Caelan of Noctwyth is not just any king. He's the Immortal King. He's lived for over five hundred years. He's killed thousands. Some say he's more monster than man."
My hands started shaking. I clenched them into fists to hide it.
"The ritual requires your blood," Morvana continued. "I'll cut your palm, let it drip onto the altar stones, and call him through the Veil. When he comes..." She smiled, showing too many teeth. "Well. Let's just say it will be quick."
"How kind," I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded.
My mother's eyes narrowed. "Don't be smart, Seraphina. For once in your pathetic life, do something useful."
Something inside me snapped.
Twenty-three years of biting my tongue. Twenty-three years of taking their insults and abuse. Twenty-three years of hoping they'd see me as more than nothing.
I was going to die tonight anyway. What did I have to lose?
"Useful?" I laughed, and it sounded slightly crazy even to my own ears. "You want me to be useful? Like when I tended the gardens you let die? Like when I organized the library you never read? Like when I studied healing herbs because I thought maybe, just maybe, I could help people even without magic?"
"Silence!" my mother hissed.
But I couldn't stop. The words poured out like water breaking through a dam.
"You never saw any of it. You never saw ME." I took a step toward her, and something strange happened—she took a step BACK. "You locked me away like I was shameful. You let the servants beat me. You starved me. And now you're going to murder me and pretend it's for the kingdom?"
"You ungrateful little—" my mother started.
"I'm not finished!" The words came out as a shout, and the candles in the room flickered wildly. "You say I'm worthless? You say I'm nothing? Then why does every plant I touch bloom? Why do animals follow me? Why do I dream of languages I've never learned?"
High Priestess Morvana's black eyes went wide. "What did you just say?"
I blinked, confused by her reaction. "I... I dream in old languages. I always have. I thought everyone did."
Morvana grabbed my mother's arm hard enough to make her wince. "Vivienne. Did you check? Did you make absolutely certain the binding worked?"
"Of course it worked!" my mother snapped. "I performed it myself the night she was born. Her magic is locked away. She's powerless."
"Binding?" I whispered. "What binding?"
They both went silent, exchanging a look that made my blood run cold.
"What did you do to me?" My voice shook now. "What are you talking about?"
My mother's face became a mask of ice. "It doesn't matter. You'll be dead in a few hours anyway."
But High Priestess Morvana looked worried. Actually worried. "If the binding is weakening... if her magic is starting to leak through... we need to move the ritual up. Now. Before—"
"Before what?" I demanded.
The door burst open. My brother Dorian strode in, his face twisted with anger. "We have a problem. The Decay just reached the outer villages. Three hundred people turned to ash in minutes." He looked at me with pure hatred. "All because we waited too long to kill her."
"That's not my fault!" I shouted.
"Everything is your fault!" Dorian grabbed me by the throat, slamming me against the wall. His hand was hot—fire magic burning my skin. "You were born wrong. You exist wrong. You should have died the day you were born!"
I couldn't breathe. Black spots danced in my vision.
"Dorian, let her go," my mother said calmly. "We need her alive for the ritual."
He squeezed harder for one more second, then dropped me. I fell to the floor, gasping and coughing.
"The ritual happens now," Morvana announced. "We can't wait until midnight. Bring her to the altar immediately."
"But the Veil isn't fully open yet," my mother protested. "King Caelan might not come."
"He'll come," Morvana said darkly. "When he smells Starborn blood, he'll come."
Everything stopped.
"What did you just say?" I wheezed from the floor.
Morvana looked down at me, and for the first time, I saw real fear in those black eyes. "Nothing. I said nothing."
But she had. She'd said Starborn.
I'd read about the Starborn in the forbidden section of the library. Powerful beings born once every thousand years. Beings who could reshape reality itself.
Beings everyone thought were just myths.
"I'm not—" I started.
"GUARDS!" Dorian shouted. "Take her to the altar. NOW!"
Six guards rushed in. They grabbed me, and this time I fought. I scratched and kicked and bit, but it was useless. They were too strong.
As they dragged me toward the door, I caught my mother's reflection in a mirror.
She was smiling.
Not the cold, fake smile she used in public. A real smile. A satisfied smile.
And I understood.
She knew. She'd always known what I was. That's why she'd locked my magic away when I was born. That's why she'd hidden me. That's why she wanted me dead now.
I wasn't powerless.
I was dangerous.
The guards hauled me through the palace, and servants pressed against the walls to let us pass. Some looked away. Some whispered. One old kitchen woman I'd known since childhood had tears running down her face.
Then I saw her—Elara, my only friend, being held back by two guards as she screamed my name.
"Sera! Fight! Don't let them do this!"
"I'm trying!" I shouted back, struggling harder.
One guard hit me across the face. Pain exploded through my skull, and blood filled my mouth.
"Behave, Princess," he sneered. "Or we'll make this hurt more than it has to."
We reached the palace courtyard. The sun was setting, painting everything red and gold. It would have been beautiful if I wasn't about to die.
They'd set up an altar in the center—a massive stone covered in dark stains that looked suspiciously like old blood. High Priestess Morvana was already there, chanting in a language that made my teeth hurt.
The entire court had gathered to watch. Hundreds of nobles in their fine clothes, treating my death like entertainment.
My father stood on a raised platform, his crown gleaming. He wouldn't even look at me.
The guards threw me onto the altar. The stone was freezing cold despite the warm evening.
Morvana appeared above me, holding a curved silver knife that gleamed in the dying light.
"Any last words, Princess?" she asked mockingly.
I looked up at her, at my family, at all the people who'd made my life hell.
And I smiled. Blood from my split lip stained my teeth.
"Yes," I said clearly. "I hope he kills every single one of you."
Morvana's face went pale. "What?"
"The Immortal King. When he comes. I hope he burns this whole kingdom to the ground."
"Silence her!" my father commanded.
But it was too late. Morvana had already grabbed my hand and sliced the knife across my palm.
Blood poured from the wound, splattering onto the altar stone. The ancient runes carved into the rock started to glow—first red, then blue, then a blinding silver.
The temperature dropped so fast I could see my breath.
Morvana stumbled backward, terror on her face. "No. It's too strong. The magic is too strong!"
The sky above us split open.
Not like clouds parting. Like reality itself was tearing apart.
And through the tear came darkness.
Living, breathing darkness that rolled across the courtyard like a tsunami. Nobles screamed and ran. Guards drew their swords uselessly.
The darkness condensed into a shape. A man.
No. Not a man.
A king.
He stood seven feet tall, dressed in black armor that seemed to absorb light. His hair was dark as midnight with silver streaks. And his eyes—
His eyes were pure silver, glowing like twin moons, and they were fixed directly on me.
King Caelan had arrived.
And he looked absolutely furious.
"Who," he said, his voice so cold it burned, "dares to summon me with Starborn blood?"
Every person in the courtyard dropped to their knees. Every person except me—I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but stare at him.
His silver eyes narrowed as he studied me on the altar.
Then he moved.
One second he was twenty feet away. The next, he was standing over me, close enough that I could feel the cold radiating from his body.
He grabbed my bleeding hand, and power exploded through me like lightning.
I screamed.
Not from pain—from the raw, overwhelming force of it. Magic. MINE. It had been locked inside me all along, and his touch broke something open.
Silver light burst from my body, so bright that everyone had to shield their eyes.
When it faded, I was standing. I didn't remember standing up, but I was on my feet, face to face with the Immortal King.
A mark wound around my left wrist—intricate silver lines forming patterns I didn't understand.
Caelan held up his own left wrist.
He had the same mark.
"Impossible," High Priestess Morvana whispered. "A Soul Bind. But that only forms between—"
"Between Inverse Souls," Caelan finished, never taking his eyes off me. His voice was different now. Not cold. Surprised. "Between perfect opposites destined to balance each other."
He tilted his head, studying me like I was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.
"Hello, little Starborn," he said softly. "I've been waiting five hundred years to find you."
Then he looked past me at my family, and his expression turned deadly.
"And you were going to kill her?"
My father tried to speak. "Your Majesty, we didn't know—"
"Silence."
The single word carried so much power that my father's mouth snapped shut mid-sentence.
Caelan turned back to me. Up close, I could see he was beautiful in a terrifying way. Ageless. Dangerous. But when he looked at me, something in his expression softened.
"I'm going to ask you one question," he said. "And I want the truth. Do you want to stay here with them? Or do you want to leave this place forever?"
It was the easiest question anyone had ever asked me.
"I want to leave," I said without hesitation.
He smiled then—slow and predatory.
"Good answer."
He grabbed my wrist, and shadows exploded around us.
The last thing I heard was my mother screaming my name.
Then the world twisted, darkness swallowed everything, and we vanished.
When the shadows cleared, I was somewhere else entirely.
Somewhere beautiful and terrifying.
Somewhere that felt like it existed outside normal reality.
"Welcome to Noctwyth," Caelan said beside me. "Your new home."
I looked down at the mark on my wrist. At the impossible bond connecting me to the most dangerous being in existence.
What had I just agreed to?
And why did part of me feel like I'd finally found exactly where I belonged?