The muffled sound of horns reached me first, faint through the stone walls of my chamber. Then came the rhythm of hooves—steady, triumphant, a drumbeat against the cobblestones. My heart stuttered in my chest, reluctant yet unwilling to ignore it.
For days I had kept the curtains drawn, my room sealed like a tomb. But something in that sound pulled me. Slowly, almost unwillingly, I rose and drifted toward the balcony doors. My hands hesitated on the latch before I pushed them open.
The world rushed in.
Sunlight spilled across the marble, too bright after so many days in shadow. The air smelled of dust and horse and smoke, carried upward from the procession winding through the streets below. And there—riding beneath banners of gold and crimson—were the soldiers. Our soldiers. Home.
The people crowded the avenues, their cheers rising like a tidal wave, voices swelling with relief and joy. I clutched the railing, knuckles tight, watching the faces of men who had seen death and returned from it. Their armor was dulled, cloaks torn, but they carried themselves with pride, heads high as the city welcomed them back.
Among them, I searched for familiar faces. My breath caught when I saw my brothers—Kai with his grin wide despite the exhaustion etched into his frame, Cassian steady and solemn, eyes scanning the crowd as though protecting even now. My throat tightened.
They were alive. They were home.
A sob clawed up my chest, but I swallowed it down, pressing my lips together hard enough to sting. Relief burned through me, but so did something else—something raw and bitter. They had returned. My father had returned. But my mother… she would never again step through those doors, never again call my name.
The cheers below blurred, becoming a roar in my ears. I pressed a hand against the railing, the other against my chest, where her letter usually lay. But for the first time since her funeral, I did not hold it. I had placed it carefully back into its carved wooden box that morning, closing the lid with trembling hands.
It had felt like betrayal. Like losing her twice. But I could not clutch her words forever. Not if I wanted to breathe.
The sunlight struck my face, and I let it, even though it made me squint, even though my tears blurred the soldiers below into a haze of gold and crimson. I stood there until the last of them disappeared around the bend, until the cheers of the crowd grew distant, until the silence of my chambers pressed against me once more.
For the first time in days, I was not holding on to her. And I did not know whether that made me stronger—or more lost than ever.
The wooden box with my mother’s letter sat on the table, its lid closed tight. My hand hovered over it, trembling, then withdrew. Not today. Not if I meant to face what was coming.
A soft knock broke the silence.
I stiffened, heart lurching. For days I had ignored every sound, every voice, but something inside me whispered that I could not ignore this one.
“Kira?” Fennie’s voice was muffled but careful, almost timid. “It’s me. I… I won’t stay long. I only came to see if you needed anything. The banquet will be tonight.”
Banquet. The word cut sharp. I had almost forgotten what victory demanded—that celebration be stitched from the ruin of war, that joy bloom where grief still festered. My stomach twisted, but my lips parted anyway.
“Come in,” I whispered, the words rough from disuse.
The door opened cautiously, and Fennie slipped inside. Her eyes widened when she saw me—standing, not curled in bed, light spilling across me from the balcony. Relief softened her features, though her hands fidgeted nervously at her apron.
“You’re up,” she said gently, almost as if the words themselves might scare me back into silence.
“I’m not ready,” I murmured, clutching the folds of my gown. “Not yet. But… I don’t want to hide forever.”
Fennie nodded quickly, her lips trembling with the effort of holding back tears. “You don’t have to be ready all at once. Just… one thing at a time. Would you like me to help you dress? Or perhaps just brush your hair?”
The thought made my throat tighten, but I forced myself to nod. Slowly, I sank into the chair before the mirror. My reflection startled me—hollow eyes, pale skin, black hair tangled and dull. A stranger stared back.
Fennie said nothing, only moved behind me and began to ease the knots from my hair with steady, careful strokes. Each pull of the brush felt like it unraveled more than tangles—it loosened something in me I hadn’t realized I’d been gripping so tightly.
I closed my eyes, letting the silence stretch. For the first time in days, it wasn’t heavy.
The palace outside was alive with preparations—music drifting faintly through the halls, servants rushing with banners and garlands. I knew I should be among them soon, smiling, standing tall as a princess. The thought still hollowed me out. But as Fennie worked, patient and quiet, I began to think maybe—just maybe—I could step into the world again, if only for a few hours.
Not yet. Not now. But soon.
I drew a slow breath, trying to anchor myself to the moment, letting the weight of my decision settle around me. Carefully, I stepped toward the balcony, the fading light brushing my skin as I sought a quiet space to think.
The chill of the evening swept through my room as I lingered on the balcony, trying to steady my heartbeat. The city’s laughter and music from the approaching banquet below felt distant, almost unreal, as if they belonged to another world—one I could not yet touch.
Then the door burst open.
I froze. The familiar, unwelcome presence of Adrian filled the space, his silhouette dark against the fading light. His eyes, usually controlled and deliberate, burned with a tempest of something I had never seen so raw: possessiveness, jealousy, rage.
“You’ve been hiding from me,” he hissed, stepping inside. “Ignoring me. Sending everyone else to you—letters, messengers, even that damned Fennie! But not me. Not my concern. Not my love. You speak of him—Sylas—constantly! That prince from Drakenvyre who dared to touch your lips, touch your heart…” His voice cracked with fury. “And yet here you are, giving him more of your thoughts than you’ve ever given me!”
My chest tightened, fear pricking my skin like ice. “Adrian, I—”
“You don’t get to say anything!” He lunged, and my back hit the far railing with a sharp thud. My arm ached, and panic swelled inside me. “You belong to me, Kira! And if I cannot have you… then no one will!”
The glint of steel caught my eye—his sword, raised, shining cruelly under the lanterns’ glow. I froze, paralyzed, as he stepped closer. “The only way to make sure you’re mine… is to end it. End everything else.”
Tears blurred my vision. My voice cracked. “Please… don’t—”
The blade slashed downward, too fast, too precise, aiming to end me where I stood. Panic ignited in my chest, but before it could strike true, water surged from within me—my own body answering a power I barely understood. The air thickened, droplets twisting into a whirling, unyielding wall around my torso. The blade grazed my side, biting into my gut with a harsh sting, but the water deflected the rest, hurling Adrian backward. He stumbled, swearing, eyes wide with disbelief and fury as blood seeped through my fingers where I clutched my wound.
“You think you can defy me?!” he shouted, clawing at the water as it twisted around him, searing him like ice and flame combined. “I’ve loved you, and you’ve rejected me at every turn! I gave you everything I could—everything! And still… still you think of him!”
I pressed my hands forward, feeling a pull in my chest—a warmth, a power radiating from the golden veins that had surfaced when my mother died. My divinity flared, intertwining with my water, forming a torrent that knocked Adrian off his feet. He gasped as his stomach met the stone floor with a harsh crack.
I did not wait. My legs moved before my mind caught up, carrying me down the hall in a trembling sprint. Each step echoed, a drumbeat of desperation and fear. I could hear him struggling behind me, furious and humiliated, screaming for me to stop, to submit, to let him claim me.
“You can’t run from me, Kira!” he yelled, rage and obsession twisting his words into venom. “You think because you’ve thrown yourself at him—Sylas—you’re free? You’re mine! I’ll never let anyone else have you!”
I didn’t look back. Every fiber of my being screamed to escape, to survive. My tears mixed with the lingering energy of my mother’s magic, my grief, my divinity—a storm that propelled me forward. I knew I could not let him touch me again, not now, not ever.
The doors to the balcony swung open behind me as I pushed into the corridors, the lights spilling across the marble floors. My breath came in ragged gasps, my body trembling, but the fear and anger swirling inside me only sharpened my control.
I had survived once in a vision that had haunted me since my childhood—the one that had shown blades, shadows, and inevitable pain. Now, that same dread had manifested in flesh and blood, and I had wielded my power to survive.
I would not be taken. Not by Adrian. Not by anyone.
But as I ran through the corridors, heart pounding, a cold realization followed each footstep: he had seen me. He had seen my power, my grief, and the limits of his control. And Adrian would not forget.
And neither would I.
The halls of the palace stretched long and shadowed as I fled, each step echoing painfully in the cavernous corridors. Blood trickled from the cut Adrian had left across my side, warm and sticky, seeping through the fabric of my gown. My breath came in ragged gasps, my legs trembling with exhaustion, but adrenaline propelled me forward. The scent of iron and stone filled my nostrils, mixing with the faint metallic tang of my own blood.
Behind me, Adrian’s boots pounded the marble floor, relentless, each step a cruel reminder that he would not relent. “Kira!” he shouted, voice raw, teeth gritted, dripping with fury. “You can’t leave me!”
I turned a corner sharply, my palm pressing against the wall for balance. My vision blurred, the world tilting as my wounds throbbed in time with my heart. My water magic surged instinctively, forming rippling waves along the edges of my path, but it was not enough to slow him. He tore through the barrier like it was nothing, his green eyes glinting with madness, each step radiating a possessive hunger that made my skin crawl.
Pain shot through me with every movement. My legs buckled, my hand instinctively clutching at my side, trying to staunch the blood that continued to flow freely. My vision swam with flickers of golden light—the remnants of the divine power that had saved me before—yet it was weakening, my energy waning.
And then I saw him.
Soren.
The sight of him standing in the corridor ahead was both a lifeline and a dagger. My body, weakened and trembling, pitched forward, the blood from my wound slicking against the stone as I collapsed into his arms. Relief, shock, and pain collided in a surge of emotion that stole my voice.
“K-Kira?” His arms tightened around me instinctively, his face pale and concerned.
“I… he… Adrian…” I gasped, barely able to breathe, my hands clutching his tunic as though holding on could anchor me. “He… he tried—” My words failed me, choking on the pain and fear. My head drooped against Soren’s chest, and my vision flickered with shadows and light.
Behind him, Kai appeared, his presence a blazing contrast to my weakness. Sparks leapt from his feet with each step, glowing orange and gold against the darkened corridor, and the air seemed to tremble under the heat of his anger. My voice, barely more than a whisper, managed to mumble, “He… stabbed me…”
Kai’s eyes blazed with fury, his every muscle coiled like a bowstring. The raw heat of his power radiated outward, igniting the floor beneath him in tiny bursts with each stride. I felt the air pulse with energy, something more than mortal—a force that made the hairs on my arms rise.
Adrian, still seething and unrelenting, finally stopped when he saw Kai approaching, his own breath ragged, eyes wide with shock. His hands tightened around the hilt of his sword, but the confidence in his posture faltered under Kai’s fiery aura.
Even as my consciousness began to waver, I glimpsed something else: the faint, shimmering silhouette of Maerial—my mother, the goddess—standing close to Kai. Her presence was quiet, ethereal, almost protective, and yet powerful, intertwining with the fearsome aura that radiated from my brother. The golden shimmer of divinity seemed to pulse in tandem with the fire at Kai’s feet, and even through the haze of pain and blood, I could feel the weight of her power aligning with his.
My eyelids grew heavy, and the world around me narrowed to shadows and sparks. All I could see was the blaze of Kai’s anger and the looming, radiant figure beside him as the corridor trembled with anticipation.
The world swayed beneath me, shadows stretching long and unsteady as pain radiated from my side. My eyelids fluttered, heavy as stone, but even through the haze, I could see him—Kai—striding toward Adrian. Sparks trailed from his boots, each step leaving faint scorch marks on the marble floor. His eyes burned brighter than fire, and the air around him trembled with a force I could feel even through my weakening body.
Adrian’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his sword clutched tightly, but the confidence in his stance faltered as Kai approached. The madness in his eyes was still there—possessiveness, jealousy, fury—but now it had to contend with something far greater than him: the raw, divine-backed wrath of my twin.
“Kai…” I rasped, trying to lift my voice, but it caught in my throat, swallowed by the pain and fear. I felt my body slump further, melting into the cold stone beneath me.
Adrian’s lips curled in a grim, twisted grin. “You think he can stop me?” he spat, voice trembling. “He—he’s nothing but another obstacle!”
Kai didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. I could see the veins at his temples darken with power, the golden veins along my own chest flaring faintly in response, a subtle echo of our shared divinity.
“Step away from her,” Kai growled, voice low, deadly, yet carrying a weight that made even the stones tremble. “Or I will show you what it means to touch my sister.”
Adrian’s grin faltered. His sword shook in his hands, the confidence that had driven him this far now wavering. He opened his mouth, but the words were lost, swallowed by the oppressive, pulsing aura that surrounded Kai.
I felt my body shiver as consciousness threatened to abandon me. I could barely see clearly, but I caught fleeting glimpses of Kai’s power manifesting—a terrifyingly beautiful combination of his blood magic and Maerial’s subtle influence. The air shimmered with golden fire, and I realized, even in my fading state, that he was not just angry—he was absolute in his intent to protect me.
Adrian’s breathing grew ragged, sweat dotting his brow as he stepped back, unsure whether to advance or retreat. “I… I can’t—” he whispered, and I felt the terror in his voice before I even understood what he was thinking.
Through the blur, I saw Maerial’s glow pulse, synchronized with Kai’s energy, and a shiver ran down my spine. Even in my fading state, I understood: Kai was no longer just my brother. He was a force of nature, tempered by divinity, blood, and love—the kind of power that could destroy or protect with equal precision.
The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me completely was Kai’s eyes—alight with fury, gold flecks dancing in the fire of his gaze—and the faint, comforting silhouette of Maerial standing beside him, her hand resting almost imperceptibly near his shoulder, unseen by any but me.
Then the corridor went silent. Only the sound of my shallow breaths and the distant, ragged panic of Adrian filled the fading light.