The Mourning Chapel was eight hours away at full gallop.
Seraphiel had a six-hour head start.
This was going to be close.
The Chapel sat like a pearl in the wilderness... white stone gleaming against the darkening sky, surrounded by roses that bloomed year-round despite the season. Some said the flowers were blessed. Others claimed they fed on old grief, growing fat on tears shed for the kingdom's dead.
Dusk painted everything blood-red.
Seraphiel dismounted a hundred yards out, leaving her horse tied to an oak. Her side ached where bruises from training still hadn't healed. The pendant around her neck felt like a noose.
Caelum stood at the chapel entrance.
Wearing simple white robes that caught the dying light, making him look carved from marble. A saint from an illuminated manuscript. He smiled when he saw her.
"You came." His voice carried across the distance. "I knew you would. You always were too loving for your own good."
Every instinct screamed at her to run. To use the death-magic boiling under her skin, to turn and sprint back to the horse, to anywhere but here.
But Elowen was inside that chapel. Seraphiel walked forward. One foot in front of the other. Roses brushed her cloak, their scent too sweet, cloying.
Caelum didn't move. Just watched her approach with those soulful eyes, tears gathering at the corners.
"I've missed you, Seraphiel." The words cracked halfway through. "These three years have been agony. I prayed every night for your forgiveness. For a chance to explain, to make you understand why—"
"Where is she?" Seraphiel stopped ten feet away. Close enough to see the tears were real. Close enough to feel the pull of old familiarity, the ghost of what she'd once felt for him.
"Safe. Inside." He gestured toward the chapel doors. "But she's... confused. The years haven't been kind to her mind. She believes you abandoned her. Believes you chose death over protecting her." His hand dropped. "I can fix that. I can heal her mind, return her to who she was. All you have to do is come back with me."
"Back?"
"To the palace. To your place at my side." He stepped closer. Just one step. Hands open, non-threatening. "Renounce the Eclipse Tyrant. Help me build a better kingdom—one where people like Elowen are safe, where oracles aren't hunted or drained but cherished."
The words were beautiful. Everything she'd once wanted to hear from him.
"You could make a difference, Seraphiel. Real change. Not the violence Nyx offers—just destruction and revenge. But actual, lasting peace." Another step. Close enough to touch now. "I made mistakes. I know that. But I was trying to protect the realm. Sometimes that requires... difficult choices."
For a heartbeat—just one—she almost believed him.
This was the man who'd taught her to waltz in the palace gardens. Who'd brought her books on ancient prophecy, who'd listened to her visions like they mattered. Maybe he had made mistakes. Maybe—
Her death-sight activated.
She didn't trigger it. It just flared, vision shifting, and suddenly she could see them.
Death-marks. Everywhere. Hidden in the roses—assassins crouched low, blessed blades gleaming. In the chapel rafters... archers with sanctified arrows. Beneath the floor itself magical traps, wards, symbols designed to drain and contain.
Twenty. Maybe more. All waiting for her to step inside.
Seraphiel's face must've changed. Given something away.
Caelum's expression shifted. The warmth drained like water through a sieve, leaving something cold and calculating beneath.
"Ah." He sighed. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice. The Revenant magic has made you sharper. Pity."
The mask was gone. Just like that. No more tears, no more gentle regret.
"Elowen is in the chapel," he said conversationally. "But she's not my hostage, Seraphiel. She's my *disciple*. She loves me more than she ever loved you. And when you step inside, she'll help me drain your blood for the ascension ritual." He smiled. "Family killing family—there's poetry in that, don't you think? The ultimate sacrifice."
Ice flooded her veins. "You—"
Caelum snapped his fingers.
The assassins erupted from hiding.
Seraphiel drew her dagger—muscle memory from Nyx's brutal training—and barely deflected the first blade. Blessed steel screamed against her death-magic, both repelling and attracted.
She ducked, rolled, came up slashing. Caught one assassin across the throat. He went down choking.
But there were so many. They came from every direction, coordinated, professional. Holy symbols glowing on their armor.
A blade got through her guard. Punched into her side, just below the ribs. Pain exploded white-hot.
Seraphiel fell to her knees.
Caelum approached slowly, stepping over bodies—his own dead, casualties of her desperate defense. He knelt, cupped her face with one hand. Gentle. Almost tender.
"I did love the idea of you," he said softly. "The brilliant oracle, the tragic heroine. You played the part beautifully. But you were always too dangerous to let truly live." He brushed blood from her cheek. "Goodbye, my prophet."
He raised a dagger—blessed, ornate, meant for ritual.
The chapel roof exploded.
Stone and timber erupted inward. Through the destruction came a warhorse ... massive, black as midnight—and on its back, a figure wreathed in fury.
Nyx.
He crashed through the opening, Korvath and twenty soldiers pouring in behind him. His sword was already moving—caught an assassin mid-strike, bisected him, used the momentum to decapitate another.
"Told you." He reached Seraphiel in seconds, scooped her up with one arm while his sword hand kept working. "NOT." An assassin's head flew. "YOURS." Another kill. "TO." Blade through a chest. "THROW AWAY."
Caelum stumbled back, expression furious. "You can't—"
"Watch me."
But Caelum was already moving. His hands raised, golden light erupting between his palms. Not a weapon—something worse. A divine seal, intricate and burning.
He lunged forward. Nyx tried to block, but he was holding Seraphiel, sword occupied—
Caelum pressed the seal into Seraphiel's forehead.
She screamed. The magic seared through skin, bone, sinking deeper. Carving itself into her skull like a brand.
"A parting gift." Caelum smiled, backing toward the chapel. "Seven days until it burns through your skull and kills you. Come beg me for mercy before then. Perhaps I'll be feeling generous."
"You bastard—" Nyx lunged, but Caelum was already gone, golden light flashing as he teleported.
"Move!" Korvath bellowed. "More reinforcements incoming!"
Nyx's team fought their way out, cutting through the remaining assassins. Seraphiel barely registered it—the seal on her forehead burning, *burning*, everything else secondary to the agony.
They reached the horses. Nyx lifted her onto his, mounted behind her, one arm keeping her upright.
"Ride!" he shouted.
The team thundered away from the chapel, leaving carnage and roses behind. Seraphiel couldn't help but look back.
The chapel doors stood open now.
In the doorway, silhouetted against candlelight was Elowen.
Blonde hair. Delicate features. Fifteen now, almost a woman. She wore white oracle robes, pristine and ceremonial. In her hands, a ritual knife, its blade catching the last light of sunset.
Her eyes were empty. Like all the light and laughter and life had been scooped out, leaving a beautiful shell.
"ELOWEN!" Seraphiel's scream tore her throat raw.
Elowen didn't react nor blink. Just spoke in a flat monotone, like reciting scripture.
"The Radiant Father will cleanse the heretic. The Radiant Father is love. The Radiant Father protects his flock."
"Elowen, please—it's me—it's Sera—"
Elowen turned, mechanical as a doll, and walked back into the chapel.
Caelum appeared in the doorway behind her. Rested a hand on her shoulder—possessive, proprietary. Smiled directly at Seraphiel.
Then the doors closed. Heavy. Final.
"No—NO—" Seraphiel thrashed against Nyx's grip. "We have to go back—she's in there—"
"She's gone." Nyx's voice, hard and certain. "What you saw isn't your sister anymore. Not yet."
The seal burned. Elowen's empty eyes burned worse. And as they rode into darkness, Seraphiel understood.
"Seven days until the seal killed her.
Seven days to find a way to save Elowen.
Seven days to destroy Caelum Thorne.
Or die trying."