ELARA'S POV
The carriage jolts over a bump and my head hits the window.
I don't care. I'm too busy staring at the city disappearing behind us.
Somewhere back there, Calla is safe. Healthy. Alive.
That's all that matters.
"Comfortable, Miss Thorne?"
I turn to find a soldier sitting across from me. He's young, maybe twenty, with nervous eyes.
"Does it matter?" I ask.
He looks away. "I suppose not."
We ride in silence for an hour. The city gives way to farmland, then forest. The road gets rougher. My whole body aches from being thrown around, but I don't complain.
In three days, I'll have much bigger problems than bruises.
"Can I ask you something?" the soldier says suddenly.
"Sure."
"Why did you volunteer? Everyone knows it's a death sentence."
I could tell him about Calla. About the plague. About having no choice.
But instead I say, "Why did you become a soldier? Everyone knows you might die in battle."
He blinks. "That's different. I'm protecting the kingdom."
"So am I."
He doesn't have an answer for that.
We stop at an inn that night. The innkeeper takes one look at my white dress and pales.
"You're the tribute," she whispers.
Word travels fast.
She gives me the best room in the inn. Brings me hot food and clean water. Won't let me pay for anything.
"It's an honor," she keeps saying. "Such an honor to host you."
I want to scream that there's no honor in dying. But I just smile and thank her.
That night, I dream of the Gateway. The stone arch pulsing with dark energy. And beyond it, something waiting. Something that feels like it's been waiting specifically for me.
I wake up sweating.
Two more days.
The second day of travel is worse. We pass through a village where the plague has hit hard. Bodies are stacked in the street, waiting to be burned. Children cry for their dead parents. The smell is horrible.
The soldier closes the carriage curtain quickly, but not before I see a little boy about Calla's age, standing alone, covered in blood.
"That could have been Calla," I whisper.
"What?"
"Nothing."
But it's true. If I hadn't volunteered, Calla would be one of those bodies. One of those nameless dead.
I made the right choice.
I have to believe I made the right choice.
We stop for the night at a military outpost. The commander offers me his own quarters.
"Is there anything you need?" he asks. "Anything at all?"
"Can I write a letter? To my brother?"
"Of course."
He brings me paper and ink. I sit at his desk, staring at the blank page.
What do you say to someone you'll never see again?
Dear Calla,
I start writing, then stop. Cross it out. Start again.
By the time I finish, the page is covered in scratched-out words and tear stains I didn't realize I was making.
The final letter is short:
Be happy. That's all I ever wanted for you. Be happy and live the life we always dreamed about. I love you more than anything in this world. Don't waste a single moment being sad for me. I made my choice and I'd make it again.
Your sister always,
Elara
I fold it carefully and give it to the commander. "Please make sure he gets this."
"I will. I promise."
That night, I don't sleep at all.
One more day.
On the third day, the forest gets darker. Thicker. The trees grow so close together they block out the sun.
We're getting close to the border. Close to the Gateway.
The soldier across from me hasn't spoken all morning. He keeps glancing at me, then looking away.
Finally he says, "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For what's going to happen to you. It's not fair. You're just trying to save your brother and they're sending you to die and—" He stops, his voice breaking. "It's not fair."
"Life isn't fair," I say quietly. "I learned that a long time ago."
Around noon, the carriage stops.
The door opens and Varen is there, that snake smile on his face.
"We've arrived," he announces.
My heart drops into my stomach.
Outside, the forest is so dark it looks like nighttime. And ahead, maybe a hundred feet away, I see it.
The Gateway.
It's massive. A stone arch taller than any building I've ever seen, covered in symbols that hurt to look at. Dark energy pulses from it in waves that make my skin crawl.
Beyond it, I can see... nothing. Just darkness.
"This is where we leave you," Varen says. "The guards won't go any further. No one will."
"So I just walk through alone?"
"Exactly." He gestures to the Gateway. "On the other side is the Shadowlands. The Dark King's palace is straight ahead. You can't miss it."
I climb out of the carriage on shaking legs.
A guard hands me a small bag. "Food and water. For the walk."
"How long is the walk?"
No one answers.
I look at the Gateway again. The darkness beyond it seems alive. Hungry.
This is it. The moment I die.
But Calla lives. Calla gets to be happy and safe and free.
I can do this.
I have to do this.
I take a step toward the Gateway. Then another.
"Miss Thorne!" the young soldier calls out.
I turn.
He's standing at the carriage, tears on his face. "I hope you make it back. I really do."
"Me too," I lie.
I face the Gateway again and walk forward.
The symbols on the arch start glowing. The dark energy gets stronger, pushing against me like a physical force.
Ten more steps.
Five.
I'm right in front of it now. Close enough to touch the stone.
Close enough to see something moving in the darkness beyond.
Something big.
My hands are shaking so badly I can barely hold the bag.
Do it, I tell myself. Just walk through. Get it over with.
I take a deep breath.
Step forward.
And cross into the Shadowlands.
Everything changes instantly.
The forest disappears. Color drains from the world. The sky becomes eternal twilight—not day, not night, just endless purple-gray.
And ahead, rising from the darkness like something from a nightmare, is a palace made of black glass.
It's beautiful and terrifying and impossibly huge.
That's where the Dark King lives.
That's where I'm going to die.
I start walking toward it, my legs moving automatically.
The path is smooth and black. Shadows move along the edges, watching me. Not threatening. Just... curious.
It takes maybe twenty minutes to reach the palace doors.
They're taller than the Gateway itself, carved with more of those painful symbols.
I raise my hand to knock.
Before I can, the doors swing open.
Silently.
Inviting me in.
I step inside and my breath catches.
The entrance hall is massive. The ceiling seems to go on forever, filled with actual stars. The floor is polished black stone that reflects everything like a mirror.
And it's completely empty.
"Hello?" My voice echoes.
No answer.
"I'm here!" I call louder. "I'm the tribute from Aeloria!"
Still nothing.
Maybe he's not home? Can a king not be home in his own palace?
I take another step inside.
The doors slam shut behind me.
I spin around, heart racing.
Then I feel it.
A presence. Massive. Powerful. Right behind me.
I turn slowly.
And there he is.
The Dark King.
He's standing ten feet away, and I have no idea how he got there. Like he appeared from nothing.
He's... not what I expected.
The stories said he'd be monstrous. Twisted. Evil incarnate.
But he's beautiful.
Devastatingly, impossibly beautiful.
Tall and powerfully built, with features so perfect they don't look real. Black hair. Pale skin. And eyes that shift between silver and pure black.
He's also staring at me like I'm something he's never seen before.
"Another tribute," he says finally. His voice is deep and cold and makes something in my chest tighten. "Another fool sent to die."
I'm supposed to be terrified. I'm supposed to beg for my life.
Instead, anger floods through me.
"I'm not here to die," I
snap. "I'm here to negotiate."
His eyebrows rise. Just slightly.
Then, for the first time in maybe a hundred years, the Dark King smiles.