Elara's POV
I stare at the message written in ash on Kaelen's bed.
THE KING IS ALREADY DEAD. WHAT YOU'RE TALKING TO IS SOMETHING ELSE. RUN.
My whole body shakes. This can't be real. None of this can be real.
Elara?
I spin around, heart in my throat.
Kaelen stands in the doorway behind me, very much alive. His silver eyes narrow when he sees me in his room.
I told you not to enter without permission.
You're real, I breathe. You're actually real.
What are you talking about? He steps closer, sees the message on his bed. His face goes completely still. When did this appear?
Just now. Right before you came back. I point at the bed with a shaking hand. Someone wrote that you're dead. That you're not really you.
He walks to the bed, touches the ash. It smears under his fingers. Still warm. Whoever did this was here seconds ago.
How is that possible? I've been standing right here!
There are secret passages throughout this castle. He looks around the room, eyes sharp. Passages I thought only Sylas and I knew about.
So someone else knows.
Apparently. He wipes the ash from his hand. And they want you to doubt me.
Are you? Dead, I mean? The question sounds insane even as I ask it.
Kaelen looks at me for a long moment. Then he grabs my hand and places it over his heart.
It beats. Strong and steady and definitely alive.
Does that feel dead to you? he asks quietly.
No. But my voice wavers. Unless you're a very convincing ghost.
I'm not a ghost, Elara. I'm a cursed dragon king who's apparently very bad at keeping his brides alive, but I'm not dead. He releases my hand. What else happened? You look terrified.
I tell him about the letter. About the dragon mark on my shoulder. About seeing myself in the courtyard.
About this being my eighth life.
Kaelen's face grows darker with every word.
Show me the mark, he says when I finish.
I pull down my collar. His fingers brush my shoulder, and where he touches, the dragon mark glows silver.
He jerks back like I burned him.
What? I ask. What is it?
That's a soul mark. His voice is rough. It appears when someone dies and is reborn. But only those with powerful magic can carry soul marks across lifetimes.
I don't have magic. I'm completely human.
Are you? He studies me with those intense silver eyes. Because normal humans don't survive dragon fire. And you flew through a storm wrapped in my claws without dying from the pressure. And that mark... He touches it again, and it glows brighter. This mark is ancient. Older than me. Older than this castle.
My head spins. What does that mean?
It means you're not who you think you are. He pulls his hand back. And it means someone's been manipulating your reincarnations for a very long time.
That's impossible.
So are dragons. Yet here I am. He walks to his desk, pulls out a thick book. I need to research this. You should sleep.
Sleep? Are you serious? Someone just told me I've died seven times!
Eight times, if the letter is correct. He starts flipping through pages. Which means you've survived this long for a reason. Get some rest. We'll figure this out in the morning.
I can't just
Elara. He looks up from the book. You're exhausted. Terrified. And making decisions in that state will get you killed. Again. So please, go to your room, lock the door, and try to sleep. I'll be right here if you need me.
I want to argue. Want to demand answers.
But he's right. I'm so tired I can barely stand.
Fine. But you're telling me everything tomorrow.
Deal.
I go to my room and lock the door. Crawl into the huge bed. Close my eyes.
Sleep doesn't come.
Every time I start to drift off, I see that woman in the courtyard. The one who looked exactly like me.
Was that really me? A past version? A ghost?
I roll over, punch the pillow, try again.
Nothing works.
Finally, I give up. Climb out of bed and walk to the window.
The storm has passed. The courtyard below is empty and quiet.
No mysterious woman. No answers.
I press my forehead against the cold glass and try not to cry.
I'm in a cursed castle with a dragon king who might be dead. Someone's been killing brides for years. I've apparently died here seven times already. And I have a magic mark on my shoulder that glows when touched.
This is the worst week of my life.
No. Wait. I've had seven other worst weeks of my life, apparently. I just don't remember them.
I almost laugh. Almost.
A soft knock on my door makes me freeze.
Elara? You awake? Sylas's voice.
I walk to the door but don't unlock it. What do you want?
To talk. There's something you need to know. About the king.
My stomach drops. What about him?
Not through the door. This needs to be face to face. He pauses. Please. It's important.
I shouldn't open the door. Kaelen said to lock it. Said to stay inside.
But Sylas is supposed to be the one person I can trust.
Slowly, I unlock the door and crack it open.
Sylas stands in the hallway, his half-dragon face grim. Can I come in?
No. Tell me here.
He glances down the hallway. Fine. But you're not going to like this.
I haven't liked anything since I got here. Just tell me.
Sylas takes a deep breath. The king isn't cursed to kill the women he loves. He's cursed to forget them.
I blink. What?
Every time a bride dies, his memory of her is erased. Completely. He remembers there was someone, but not who they were. Not what they looked like. Not how they died. Sylas's eyes are sad. Do you know how many times he's researched the same curse? Read the same books? Asked the same questions? He doesn't remember. Can't remember.
Horror creeps up my spine. So all seven brides...
He doesn't remember any of them. Not their names, not their faces, nothing. Sylas leans against the wall. And when you die if you die he'll forget you too. He'll know he failed. He'll hate himself. But he won't remember why.
That's cruel.
That's the curse. The witch who cast it wanted him to suffer eternally. To fail over and over without ever learning from his mistakes.
But he remembers Celeste. Mora's daughter. He has her portrait in the memorial room.
Sylas shakes his head slowly. He has portraits of all seven brides. But he doesn't know which one is which. Doesn't remember their stories. He just knows seven women died, and he couldn't save them.
Oh god.
Does he know? About the memory erasure?
He figured it out. Eventually. That's why he keeps the memorial room to remind himself of what he loses every time. Sylas straightens. And that's why you need to be careful. If you die, he won't remember you. But you'll remember him. In your next life. You'll come back, drawn to this castle again, and the cycle will repeat.
How do you know I'll remember?
Because of the soul mark. It carries memories across lifetimes. He points at my shoulder. You may not remember consciously. But your soul remembers. That's why you keep coming back.
My legs feel weak. I lean against the doorframe.
So I've loved him before. In past lives.
Seven times, Sylas confirms. And died seven times. And came back seven times. Each time hoping it would be different.
But it never is.
Not yet. He meets my eyes. But you're different this time. Smarter. More suspicious. You question everything instead of trusting blindly. Maybe that's what breaks the cycle.
Or maybe I just die faster.
Maybe. He doesn't sugarcoat it. Get some sleep, Elara. Tomorrow, we start teaching you how to defend yourself.
He turns to leave.
Sylas? Does he... did he love them? The other versions of me?
Sylas looks back, his expression unreadable. Every single time. That's why the curse works.
Then he's gone.
I close the door, lock it, slide down to the floor.
Seven lives. Seven deaths. Seven times I loved a man who can't remember me.
And I'm about to do it all over again.
I don't know how long I sit there. Time feels strange and slippery.
Eventually, I drag myself back to bed. Pull the covers up. Close my eyes.
This time, sleep comes. Heavy and dark and full of dreams I can't quite remember.
But in the morning, when I wake up, everything changes.
Because there's someone in my room.
A woman sitting in the chair by the window, watching me sleep.
She looks exactly like me, but older. Sadder. Her eyes are hollow.
Hello, Elara, she says softly. I'm you. From the seventh life.
I scramble backward in bed, heart racing. That's impossible.
Is it? You've already accepted reincarnation. Time loops. Dragon kings and murder curses. She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. What's one more impossibility?
What do you want?
To warn you. She stands, walks closer. You think this is your eighth chance. But it's not. It's your last.
How do you know?
Because I made a deal. With the witch who cursed Kaelen. She reaches out, and her hand passes through mine like smoke. I traded all our future lives to give you one final chance to break the cycle.
Why would you do that?
Because I couldn't stand the thought of you suffering forever. Of us dying forever. So I gave everything all our possible futures for this one moment. This one timeline where maybe, just maybe, you could save us both.
My throat closes. What happens if I fail?
She looks at me with ancient, tired eyes.
Then you die. For real this time. No reincarnation. No second chances. Your soul burns out completely, and Kaelen forgets you forever. She starts to fade. But if you succeed... if you break the curse... you free all of us. Every version of yourself that ever lived. Every version that ever loved him.
Wait! How do I break it?
You have to figure that out yourself. I can't tell you. The rules... She's almost completely transparent now. But I can tell you this: the murderer isn't who you think. The curse isn't what you think. And Kaelen...
She disappears completely.
I sit alone in my bed, shaking.
Then her voice whispers one last time, like wind through the room:
Kaelen isn't the one you need to save. You are.
And I realize with horror that my dragon mark is burning.
Not glowing. Burning.
Like it's counting down to something.
I rip off my nightgown and look at it in the mirror.
The dragon has changed. It's no longer curled peacefully. Now it's screaming, mouth open, wings spread.
And beneath it, in silver script that wasn't there before, words appear:
Seven days until the bond completes. Seven days until you remember everything. Seven days until one of you dies.
A countdown.
I have seven days to break a curse I don't understand, catch a murderer I can't identify, and save myself from a fate worse than death.
And the clock just started ticking.