Dawn seeped gently through the high windows, the light muted and gold, brushing the stone walls of my chamber in a way that felt almost reverent. For a moment, I simply lay still, listening to the quiet of the palace—the faint stirrings of servants in distant halls, the soft rustle of banners against the windows. This was the last time I would wake here, the last morning I would belong wholly to Valara.
I rose slowly, letting my fingers trail along the carved edge of the bedframe, the polished wood worn smooth from years of familiarity. My slippers whispered against the floor as I crossed to the tall windows and pushed them open. Cool morning air rushed in, carrying the scent of dew-dampened stone and the faint sweetness of the palace gardens below. Somewhere, a bell chimed the early hour, steady and grounding, and for a heartbeat I wondered if I was making the greatest mistake of my life.
But then I thought of Sylas—the warmth of his letters pressed against my skin, the promise in his words, the future we might build together. The ache in my chest eased, if only slightly.
I dressed slowly, almost ceremonially, letting the fabric of my gown fall into place with practiced hands. Each fastening, each brush of cloth against my skin felt like a farewell, as if I were stitching the memory of this palace into myself.
On my desk sat the small wooden box I had not opened in months. My breath caught as I lifted the lid, revealing the folded parchment inside: my mother’s last letter. The ink was faded, the edges softened from my fingertips. I slid it into my satchel with care. If I could not have her presence, I would carry her words—her voice, her memory—with me, wherever the road led.
Before leaving, I let my gaze sweep across the chamber. The shelves lined with books I had once devoured in secret; the worn cushion on the chair by the hearth where Kai had sat during endless debates; the small crack in the wall by the door I had always meant to have repaired. These details, so ordinary, suddenly shimmered with weight. They belonged to the girl I had been—the princess, the council member, the dutiful daughter.
My hand lingered on the latch as I stepped into the corridor. The familiar stone stretched before me, banners of Valara’s crest swaying faintly in the draft. The portraits of my parents caught my eye—my father’s steady, serious gaze, my mother’s smile caught in brushstrokes that seemed brighter than my memories of her. I paused there, bowing my head slightly, whispering a silent promise: I would not forget. Not them, not this place.
Gratitude swelled in me, mingling with grief—the queen’s empty chambers, the bitter taste of Adrian’s betrayal, the quiet menace of Theros’ shadow still lingering at the edges of our lives. My heart felt torn, stitched from a dozen different loyalties and longings.
But beneath it all, excitement pulsed, fierce and undeniable. For the first time, I was choosing a path that was mine alone.
With one last look at the hall, I moved forward, my steps echoing softly in the stillness, carrying me toward the day—and the world—that awaited.
The grand hall smelled of polished wood and lingering candle smoke, the air thick with the hush of dawn and quiet movement. I found my father waiting near the center, his posture stiff but his eyes soft, betraying the storm of emotions he’d carefully tucked away for my sake. When he saw me, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor touched his lips, and he opened his arms without a word.
I stepped forward, and he gathered me into a hug that was both grounding and sorrowful. His arms wrapped around me as if to anchor me to this place one last time, and I pressed my face to his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of cedar and leather.
“You’ve grown so much,” he whispered, his voice rough with held-back emotion. “Stronger than I ever imagined. The kingdom will always be safer with your courage, Kira—but so will I be, knowing you carry my heart with you.”
I clung to him a little tighter, the weight of leaving pressing against my chest. “I’ll come back,” I murmured, though I wasn’t entirely certain if I meant the physical return or carrying Valara in my heart.
After a long moment, he reluctantly released me, his hands lingering on my shoulders. “Go with care, my daughter. Be the light I know you are.”
Cassian appeared quietly beside us, his usual calm tempered with an unusual tenderness. His hand brushed mine, then found its way around my shoulders, pulling me into a firm embrace. “I’m proud of you, Kira,” he said, his voice warm and unwavering. “And I’m glad… glad you’ll be far from all the chaos that’s haunted us here. You deserve this. You deserve happiness.”
I leaned into him, letting the safety of his presence wrap around me like a shield. “I’ll miss you,” I whispered, my throat tight with emotion.
“I’ll miss you too,” he said, his words gentle but resolute. “Just promise me you won’t let the world take that fire from you. You’ve got too much to give, little sister.”
For a heartbeat, I felt the weight of all our shared losses—the Queen, the betrayals, the endless shadows of war—but also the unbreakable bond that tethered us together. Their embraces were anchors in a storm of change, reminders that love remained even in the face of departure.
Father gave me one final nod, a small smile touching his lips, and whispered, “Go, Kira. Walk your path boldly. We’ll hold the fort here, and we’ll wait for you to return.”
I stepped back, letting the warmth of their presence settle into me one last time.
The corridor outside the hall was quiet, lit only by the muted glow of morning spilling through the high arched windows. I thought I might make it to the courtyard without interruption, but Kai was already waiting there, leaning against the stone wall as though he’d known exactly where to catch me.
His eyes found mine the instant I stepped into the passage, and all at once his composure fractured. He strode toward me, shoulders tense, mouth pressed tight, and before I could speak, his arms were around me.
It startled me—his hugs were rare, reserved for moments of true desperation—but I melted into it, clutching him back as though neither of us wanted to let go. His heartbeat was frantic against my cheek.
“You don’t have to do this,” he whispered, voice raw and frayed. “You don’t have to go.”
My throat tightened. “Kai—”
“No,” he cut in, pulling back just far enough to look at me, his hands gripping my arms as though to root me in place. “We’ve already lost too much. Mother, Adrian’s betrayal, war pressing on our borders. And now you? You can’t leave us too.”
The desperation in his voice cracked something inside me. His face, so like mine, was twisted with pain he couldn’t hide, and I realized then how much he’d been holding back all along—for my sake, for Father’s, for the kingdom.
“I’ll still be your sister,” I said softly, brushing my hand against his cheek. “No matter where I go. That doesn’t change.”
His eyes glistened, and for a moment he pressed his forehead against mine like we were children again, hiding from storms under our mother’s cloak. It was tender, unbearably so, and I almost broke then and there.
Then, in a breathless whisper, the words slipped out of him:
“Please, Seliora. Stay.”
The name struck me like a blade to the chest. I froze, every muscle in me locking tight. Slowly, I leaned back to look at him fully, my heart hammering so violently I thought it might stop.
“What… did you just call me?” My voice was barely audible, sharp with disbelief.
Kai’s eyes widened in instant horror. He staggered back a step, his hands falling from my arms as though he’d touched fire. Shock painted his face, his lips parting with no words to follow.
“Kira—I—” he stammered, shaking his head violently, but the damage was already done.
That name. Seliora. The one Maerial had whispered to me in secret—the name no one else in this world should know.
My chest tightened, grief and fury tangling together. “How long have you known?” I demanded, though my voice trembled more with hurt than anger.
Kai looked shattered, trapped between confession and silence. His jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides, but he said nothing. Nothing but the silence that roared louder than any answer could.
I stumbled back a step, my pulse echoing in my ears. Betrayal. Fear. Questions too heavy to voice. The air between us felt unbearably fragile, stretched thin as glass about to break.
Before I could speak again, before he could explain, a voice called faintly from beyond the corridor— Sylas’s presence waiting beyond the gates.
I turned away, heart pounding, throat burning.
Seliora.
I didn’t look back at Kai as I stepped into the sunlight, toward Sylas, toward Drakenvyre—toward the unknown. But his voice, that forbidden name, followed me like a shadow I couldn’t escape.
Sylas was waiting in the outer court, the early light gilding the dark red and black of his armor, the Drakenvyre crest stitched bold across his cloak. He looked every bit the king he had become—battle-worn, steady, unshakable—but when his eyes found mine, something softened.
“You’ve gone pale,” he said gently, his voice a low rumble that curled with warmth. “Second thoughts?”
“Not second thoughts,” I admitted, fingers twisting in my skirts. “Just… heavy ones.”
His mouth curved into a smile, faintly crooked, faintly mischievous. “Good. I’d worry if you weren’t weighing every possible doom before walking into my kingdom.” He tilted his head, dark eyes gleaming. “But I’ll tell you a secret, Kira—you think too much. I’d much rather you trusted me to keep you alive.”
I let out a shaky breath, half a laugh despite myself. “You’re very sure of that.”
“I have to be,” he said, stepping close enough that I could feel the heat of him, the undeniable pull. “If I’m not, who will be?” Then, softer, more serious: “I won’t let anything touch you. Not Theros. Not shadows. Not even your doubts.”
It was the kind of promise I should have doubted, but something in his tone, in his steady gaze, wrapped around me like armor. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, the gesture light, intimate, almost boyish despite the crown that now weighed on him.
“Besides,” he added, lips curving again, “if you’re at my side, I’ll look far more dangerous than I really am. That has its uses.”
I rolled my eyes, but my chest ached with something dangerously close to hope. “You’re insufferable.”
“Correct. But you’re still coming with me.”
Before I could answer, he pressed a quick kiss to my temple, no more than a brush of lips, but it grounded me in ways I couldn’t explain. Then he stepped back, giving me the space to choose—for myself, for him, for us.
The courtyard was still, every sound muted as though the palace itself held its breath. Sylas waited near the great gates, sunlight striking off his cloak, a figure of strength and promise.
My steps slowed as I crossed the stones, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. I turned once, unable to stop myself, my gaze drawn to the family I was leaving behind.
Father stood tall despite the grief clouding his eyes, a king holding his composure though I knew his heart was breaking. Cassian’s expression was gentler—steady, sorrowful, but with a small, encouraging nod. His eyes said what his words had already given me: follow your heart.
And then there was Kai.
He stood apart, his fists clenched, his gaze burning into me with a mixture of desperation and awe. His mouth opened as if to call me back, to stop me, but no sound came. Only silence. Only his eyes, too wide, too knowing.
I drew in a deep breath, forcing my trembling legs forward.
One step.
The stones beneath me felt like the edge of two worlds—the life I had known, and the life waiting beyond the gates.
Sylas extended his hand, patient, unyielding.
I took another step.
Behind me, my family, my kingdom, my unanswered questions. Ahead of me, Sylas, Drakenvyre, a future I could not yet see.
And between it all, Kai’s voice, echoing in my mind.
I crossed the threshold; the air shifted with finality. The courtyard fell behind—my father’s steady gaze, Cassian’s nod, Kai’s silence. I didn’t look back. Only one thing followed me into the light, beating at my ribs—a name he should never have known. Seliora.