Kaelen's POV
I've dreaded this conversation for three hundred years.
Elara sits across from me in my study, her eyes demanding truth. Behind her, magical wards glow on the door protection against Veyra's spies. Against everything except the past.
Start at the beginning, she says. How did you meet Veyra?
I pour two glasses of wine. My hands don't shake, but they should.
I was sixteen. Just crowned king after my parents were assassinated by a rival dragon clan. Veyra was the court's head sorceress brilliant, powerful, and the only person who didn't treat me like a child playing at royalty.
You fell in love with her.
I thought I did. I take a long drink. She was everything I needed strong when I felt weak, confident when I doubted, always knowing exactly what to say. She helped me win wars, negotiate treaties, build this kingdom from ash.
So what went wrong?
This is the part that still hurts. Even after three centuries.
I discovered she was using blood magic. Forbidden magic that requires human sacrifice. I meet Elara's eyes. She'd been killing villager's children, mostly to fuel her spells. At least thirty over five years.
Elara's face goes pale. Thirty children?
I confronted her. She didn't deny it. Said it was necessary. That the kingdom needed her power, and power always has a price. My jaw clenches. She actually expected me to understand. To accept it.
What did you do?
What any king would do. I arrested her. Put her on trial. The evidence was overwhelming bodies buried in her tower, ritual chambers soaked in blood. The council voted for execution. I drain my glass. I could have pardoned her. As king, I had that right. But I didn't.
Because she murdered children.
Because she murdered children and felt nothing. No guilt, no remorse. She looked at those dead kids like they were tools she'd used up. The memory makes me sick even now. So I signed the death warrant myself. Watched them lead her to the execution block. And I thought it was over.
But it wasn't.
No. I refill my glass. With her last breath, as the blade was falling, she cast the curse. Used her own death as the final sacrifice to make it permanent. She cursed me to destroy anyone I love, to forget them after they die, to repeat the cycle forever until I become the monster she always said I was.
Elara is quiet for a moment. She wanted you to suffer.
She wanted me to understand that love is a weakness. That caring about people gets them killed. I laugh bitterly. And she was right, wasn't she? Seven brides dead because I couldn't help falling for them. Thirty children dead because I loved their murderer.
That's not your fault.
Isn't it? I stand, pace to the window. I chose her. I trusted her. I let her get close enough to this kingdom to poison it. Every death since then the brides, the servants Mora killed, everyone they all trace back to my failure.
Stop it. Elara stands too, walks over to me. You were sixteen years old. She manipulated you. Used your grief over your parents against you. You did the right thing by executing her.
Did I? Because from where I'm standing, executing her created three hundred years of horror. I look down at her. Sometimes I wonder if I should have just let her continue. Thirty dead children versus hundreds dead from the curse which is worse?
Both are her fault, not yours. Elara grabs my arm. She's the murderer. She made the choice to kill those children. She made the choice to curse you. You don't get to take responsibility for her evil.
I want to believe her. Want to accept that I'm not the villain in this story.
But I've carried this guilt for too long.
There's more, I say quietly. Something I haven't told anyone. Not even Sylas.
What?
I take a breath. This is the secret that's been eating me alive.
Veyra told me something before she died. Right before the blade fell, she leaned close and whispered: 'I'm not the only one who loved you. There's another. And she'll come for you again and again until you finally understand.'
Elara frowns. Another? Another what?
Another woman. Another love. I pull away from her, can't bear to see her face when I say this. Veyra claimed she wasn't my first betrayer. That someone else had loved me and hurt me before her, and that person would return in different forms until I learned my lesson.
That doesn't make sense.
I know. I've spent three hundred years trying to figure it out. I turn back to face her. But what if she was talking about you? What if Elara all eight versions isn't random? What if you're the 'other' she mentioned?
You think I hurt you? In some life before the curse?
I don't know. My memories before Veyra are hazy. Dragon lifespans are long, and I've lived for nearly four hundred years. There could be gaps I don't remember.
Elara shakes her head. This is insane.
Is it? You've died seven times and come back. You have a soul mark that predates my curse. You're connected to me in ways that shouldn't be possible. I step closer. What if Veyra's curse didn't create our connection? What if it just exploited something that already existed?
Then what are you saying?
I'm saying maybe we've known each other longer than eight lifetimes. Maybe Veyra cursed me because she knew about you. Knew you'd keep coming back. And she wanted to make sure every return ended in your death.
Elara sinks into a chair. That's...
Terrifying? Complicated? Impossible?
All of that. She looks up at me. But if it's true, it means Veyra's been jealous for three hundred years of someone you don't even remember.
Which makes her more dangerous. I kneel in front of Elara. Because if she thinks killing you will finally break whatever bond we have, she won't stop. Ever.
We sit in silence, the weight of centuries pressing down on us.
Finally, Elara speaks. Show me.
Show you what?
Your memories. Before Veyra. Before the curse. There has to be a way to access them. She touches her dragon mark. This mark is ancient. If we're connected from before, maybe I can help you remember.
That's dangerous. Memory magic can destroy minds.
Everything about this situation is dangerous. She stands. But we need to know the truth. Because if Veyra's right, if we have a history before the curse, that history might be the key to breaking it.
She's right. I hate it, but she's right.
Liora can help, I say. She knows memory spells. But Elara, if we do this if we dig into my past we might find things we don't want to know.
Like what?
Like maybe Veyra wasn't lying. Maybe you did hurt me once. Maybe that's why the curse works so perfectly.
Elara meets my eyes without flinching. Then we'll deal with it. But I'm not going to die in five days because we were too scared to look for answers.
Brave. Stubborn. Exactly like all the others.
Exactly like someone I might have loved before I even knew what love was.
We find Liora in her workshop, surrounded by bubbling potions and ancient texts.
I need your help, I tell her. Memory retrieval. Going back before the curse.
She looks up sharply. That's advanced magic. Dangerous. Are you sure?
No. But we're doing it anyway.
She studies both of us. This is about the bond, isn't it? You think there's more to your connection than the curse.
Veyra implied as much. I need to know if she was telling the truth.
Liora nods slowly. It'll take time to prepare. The spell requires specific ingredients, precise timing
We have five days, Elara interrupts. Can you do it before then?
I can try. But I'll need something from both of you. Blood, preferably. The bond between you will help anchor the spell.
We both hold out our hands. Liora pricks our fingers with a silver needle, catches the blood in a crystal vial. When our blood mixes, it glows gold.
Interesting, Liora murmurs. Very interesting.
What? I ask.
Your blood shouldn't mix like this unless you're family. Or soul bound. She holds up the vial, watching the golden light swirl. This isn't just the mate bond. This is something older. Deeper.
Elara and I exchange glances.
How much older? she asks.
I'll need to test it. But if I had to guess? Liora sets the vial down carefully. Centuries. Maybe millennia. This bond predates dragons. Predates magic itself.
The room goes cold.
That's impossible, I say.
So are you. So is she. So is this entire situation. Liora starts pulling ingredients from shelves. Come back tomorrow night. I'll have the memory spell ready. But I warn you whatever you find might be worse than not knowing.
We leave her workshop in silence.
In the hallway, Elara finally speaks. Millennia. How is that possible?
I don't know.
But if it's true, if we've been connected for that long, then Veyra's curse is just one piece of something much bigger.
And breaking the curse might not be enough.
We reach my chambers. She should go to her room, get some rest.
Instead, she follows me inside.
I'm not sleeping alone tonight, she says. Not with Veyra out there. Not with servants dying. Not with five days left.
I should argue. Should maintain distance.
But I'm tired of distance. Tired of losing people because I tried too hard to keep them safe.
The couch, I say. You can sleep there. I'll take watch.
She nods, too exhausted to argue.
I watch her curl up under a blanket, her breathing evening out quickly.
And I sit in the chair by the window, sword across my lap, waiting for dawn.
But sleep doesn't come for me either.
Because I'm thinking about what Liora said. About bonds that predate magic. About connections that survive death.
About a girl who keeps coming back to me no matter how many times she dies.
I'm still sitting there, lost in thought, when the candles flicker.
All of them. At once.
The temperature drops. My breath comes out in white clouds.
And a voice whispers through the room Veyra's voice, coming from everywhere and nowhere:
Did you really think wards would keep me out, my love? I've been inside your head for three hundred years. Inside your castle. Inside your bond. A cold laugh. And tomorrow night, when the memory spell begins, I'll finally show you what you've forgotten. What she made you forget.
I stand, sword ready. Show yourself!
Oh, I will. But not yet. The voice moves closer to where Elara sleeps. She looks so peaceful, doesn't she? Almost like she did the first time. The time she betrayed you. The time she
Get away from her! I launch toward the couch.
The presence vanishes. The temperature returns to normal. The candles burn steady again.
But on the floor beside Elara's sleeping form, written in frost that shouldn't exist:
ASK HER ABOUT THE FIRST BETRAYAL. ASK HER WHO SHE REALLY IS. ASK HER WHY SHE KEEPS COMING BACK.
OR BETTER YETWAIT UNTIL TOMORROW NIGHT AND REMEMBER EVERYTHING YOURSELF.
THEN WATCH HER LIE TO YOUR FACE WHEN YOU CONFRONT HER.
LOVE IS A CURSE, KAELEN. AND SHE'S THE ONE WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT.
The frost melts, leaving no trace.
I stand there, sword in hand, staring at the spot where Veyra's message was.
Elara sleeps on, unaware.
And I realize that tomorrow night's memory spell might not save us.
It might destroy us completely.