[Sera's POV]
The sun rose over a broken city.
I stood on the palace balcony—the same one where I'd first seen Kael address his people just hours ago. Now that square was filled with ash and blood instead of celebration. Buildings still smoldered. Bodies lay covered in white sheets. And hundreds of freed assassins sat in the square, guarded but not imprisoned, looking lost without their master's commands.
"Fifty-three dead," Davrin said behind me, his voice hollow. "Two hundred injured. Half the eastern district burned. This is the worst attack Luminara has ever faced."
"And it's my fault," I whispered.
"No." Kael appeared at my side, bandaged but alive. "It's Mordain's fault. And the Council's fault for hiring him. You didn't choose this."
"I brought it here. If I'd just completed the mission—if I'd killed you that first night—none of this would have happened. Those fifty-three people would still be alive."
"And I'd be dead." Kael took my hand gently. "Along with everyone's hope for a better world. Mordain would have collected his payment and kept enslaving children. The Council would have won. Was that a better outcome?"
I didn't know. Couldn't know. All I knew was that people died because I'd hesitated, because I'd chosen connection over completion.
"The freed assassins are asking for you," Davrin said. "They want to know what happens to them now. Where they go. Who they answer to." He paused. "They're used to orders, Your Highness. Without Mordain, they're... broken."
I turned to face the square. All those assassins—children and adults who'd survived Shadowveil's hell. They looked up at the palace with the same expression I'd worn for eighteen years: waiting to be told what to do. Waiting for someone to give their existence meaning.
"I'll talk to them," I said.
"Sera, you don't have to—"
"Yes, I do." I met Kael's eyes. "They're like me. They need to hear from someone who understands. Who survived. Who chose freedom and didn't die for it."
He studied my face, then nodded. "Then we talk to them together. Partners."
"You're the prince. I'm just—"
"My sister. My equal. The person who saved this city." His tone left no room for argument. "We face them together or not at all."
So we descended to the square together.
The freed assassins watched us approach. Some looked hopeful. Some looked terrified. Most just looked empty—the same emptiness I'd felt before the bond with Kael filled that void.
Thomas pushed through the crowd. His face was tear-streaked but determined. "Sera? Are we prisoners now? Are you going to execute us for attacking the city?"
The question hit me like a physical blow. Of course they'd think that. They'd been raised to expect punishment for failure.
"No," I said firmly, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You're not prisoners. You're not weapons. You're not failures. You're free."
"But we don't know how to be free," a woman said. She was maybe twenty, with scars covering her arms. "Shadowveil is all we've ever known. What do we do now? Where do we go?"
I looked at Kael. He stepped forward, and when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of a prince but the warmth of family.
"You stay here. In Luminara. We'll find you homes, teach you trades, help you build lives beyond killing. It won't be easy—learning to be human after being treated as weapons never is. But my sister did it. And if she can break Mordain's conditioning, so can all of you."
"Why would you help us?" another assassin demanded. "We tried to kill you. Tried to destroy your city."
"Because Mordain tried to destroy you first," Kael said simply. "And I don't punish victims for their abuser's crimes. Besides..." He glanced at me with a small smile. "My sister taught me something tonight. Sometimes the people who seem most dangerous are just the most broken. And broken things can be healed."
Hope flickered across dozens of faces. Not trust yet—trust took time. But hope was a start.
"Those who want to stay, report to Lord Davrin," Kael continued. "He'll arrange housing and food. Those who want to leave Luminara are free to go—we won't stop you. The choice is yours. For the first time in your lives, the choice is actually yours."
The crowd began dispersing, some toward Davrin, others toward the city gates. But Thomas stayed, gripping my hand.
"Will you teach us?" he asked. "How to be normal? How to stop being scared all the time?"
I knelt to his level. "I don't know if I can teach that. I'm still learning myself. But..." I touched his shoulder gently. "We can figure it out together. All of us."
He hugged me suddenly, fiercely. And for the first time in my life, I hugged someone back without calculating vulnerable points or escape routes. I just... hugged him.
When Thomas ran off to join the other children, Kael pulled me aside.
"You were amazing," he said.
"I barely held it together."
"That's what made it amazing. They saw you struggling and still choosing hope. That's more powerful than any perfect speech." He squeezed my hand. "You're going to be an incredible leader, Sera."
"I'm not a leader. I'm a—"
"Stop." His tone was gentle but firm. "Stop defining yourself by what Mordain made you. You're my sister. You're a survivor. You're someone who three hundred freed assassins just looked at like you hung the moon. That's who you are now."
Before I could respond, Master Eldrin approached, his expression grave.
"Your Highnesses, we have a problem. Several problems, actually."
"Of course we do," I muttered.
Eldrin pulled us into a private council room. Maps covered the table, marked with red X's. "While you were addressing the freed assassins, my scouts returned with troubling news. Mordain may be dead, but his warning was accurate. The Continental Council isn't finished with Luminara."
He pointed to the map. "Three Council armies are mobilizing. Here, here, and here. Approximately ten thousand soldiers total. They're claiming Luminara harbored terrorists—the Shadowveil assassins—and must be brought under Council control for continental security."
My stomach dropped. "They're using last night's attack as an excuse to invade."
"Precisely." Eldrin's finger traced potential attack routes. "They'll be here within two weeks. And after last night's battle, our forces are depleted. We lost guards, weapons, supplies. We're in no condition for a prolonged siege."
"Then we negotiate," Kael said immediately. "Send diplomats. Offer reparations. Find a peaceful—"
"They don't want peace, Your Highness." Eldrin's expression was grim. "High Councilor Blackwood wants you dead. The prophecy terrifies them—two First Mage descendants with combined powers strong enough to reshape the continent? You're a threat to everything they've built. They hired Mordain to eliminate you quietly. Since that failed, they'll do it publicly and call it justice."
Kael's face went hard. "Then we fight."
"With what army?" I asked quietly. "Half our guards are injured. The freed assassins aren't soldiers—they're traumatized children who need healing, not another war. We can't ask them to fight after what they've been through."
"We don't have a choice—"
"There's always a choice." I met his eyes. "And I won't let Luminara become Shadowveil. I won't turn victims into weapons just because we're desperate."
"Then what do you suggest?" Kael asked, frustrated. "We can't fight ten thousand soldiers with three hundred wounded guards. We can't negotiate with people who want us dead. We can't run—where would we go? What options do we have?"
The room fell silent.
Then Davrin spoke from the doorway. "There is one option. A dangerous one. But it might be our only chance."
We all turned to him.
"The Northern Clans," Davrin said. "They've been neutral in continental politics for decades. But they owe Luminara a debt—your father saved their chieftain's daughter fifteen years ago, Your Highness. They swore a blood oath to repay that debt. If we invoke it, they might send warriors to help defend the city."
"The Northern Clans are fierce fighters," Eldrin agreed slowly. "Their warriors train from childhood, and they hate the Council for trying to regulate their magic. But..." He hesitated. "Invoking a blood oath means Luminara owes them in return. They could demand anything—land, resources, even political allegiance. Are you prepared for that price?"
Kael looked at me. "What do you think?"
"I think we're choosing between bad options and worse options," I said honestly. "But at least this option keeps people alive. Even if it costs us later."
"Agreed." Kael turned to Davrin. "Send riders to the Northern Clans immediately. Invoke the blood oath. Tell them the Prince of Luminara calls for aid."
Davrin bowed and left.
Master Eldrin gathered his maps. "I'll begin fortifying the city's defenses. If the Clans refuse or can't arrive in time, we'll need every advantage." He paused at the door. "Your Highness? Lady Sera? What you did last night—combining your magic to defeat Mordain—was extraordinary. But it also confirmed every fear the Council has about you. They'll come with everything they have now. Magic dampeners, First Mage hunters, weapons specifically designed to kill twins like you. This war won't be like last night's battle. This will be armies and politics and the kind of fighting that destroys nations."
"Then we better get good at fighting," I said.
After Eldrin left, Kael and I stood alone in the council room. The weight of everything pressed down—the dead, the freed assassins, the coming war, the blood oath that might save or doom us.
"Are you scared?" Kael asked quietly.
"Terrified," I admitted. "I've never been responsible for this many people before. At Shadowveil, I only had to worry about my own survival. Now..." I gestured helplessly. "Now three hundred freed assassins are counting on us. Luminara is counting on us. And I have no idea if we're strong enough."
"We are." He took both my hands. "Shadow and light, remember? We're stronger together."
"I hope you're right."
A messenger burst through the door, panting. "Your Highness! The Northern Clans sent a response already—by bird!"
"That was fast," Kael said, surprised. "They must have been expecting our call." He took the message and unrolled it.
His face went pale.
"What?" I demanded. "What does it say?"
Kael's hand shook as he passed me the message. I read it twice, not believing the words.
To Prince Kael Luminaris and Lady Sera Nightshade:
We received your call for aid and acknowledge the blood oath. Our warriors will march to defend Luminara.
However, there is a complication.
Your mother did not die eighteen years ago as you were told.
She lives in exile among our people.
And she demands to see her children before we send our warriors south.
You have five days to reach our stronghold, or the oath is void.
Come alone. Come together. Come as twins.
The truth about your separation awaits.
I looked at Kael with shock. "Our mother is alive?"
"Apparently." His voice was hollow. "Everything we thought we knew about our past is a lie."
"This could be a trap. The Council could have sent this to lure us away from Luminara—"
"Or our mother really is alive and waiting for us," Kael interrupted. "Either way, we have to go. We need those warriors. And..." His voice cracked. "If there's even a chance she's real, I have to know. Don't you?"
I did. Despite everything, despite the danger and the politics and the war, I wanted to meet the woman who'd given birth to us. Who'd supposedly died defending us.
Who might have been alive this entire time while we suffered alone.
"Five days," I whispered. "That's barely enough time to reach the Northern territories."
"Then we leave tonight." Kael's expression turned determined. "We'll take a small group—Davrin, maybe Princess Thalia—"
"The message said come alone," I pointed out.
"We're twins. Alone means together."
Despite everything, I smiled. "You're taking a lot of liberties with that interpretation."
"I'm a revolutionary. It's what we do."
But as we began planning our journey north, one thought haunted me:
What if our mother took one look at what Mordain had made me—a killer, a weapon, a broken thing—and decided she wished I'd stayed lost?