The chanting grows louder.
Pain lances through my skull.
A throne room. Fire everywhere—
I stumble. Catch myself against the cavern wall.
“Do you remember now?” Vex’s voice carries an edge that makes my jaw tighten.
My legs move forward without consulting my mind. Each step closer increases the heat beneath my skin. Power floods my system faster than the suppression devices can drain it.
This place knows me.
“Four hundred years,” Creed says behind me. “This chamber has been sealed. Waiting. Only those with the purest blood can even enter. The wards would kill anyone else.”
The air tastes like dust and time.
I reach the dais. Look down at the stone figure’s face.
The chanting reaches a fever pitch.
Memories assault me. Flashes too quick to grasp, too vivid to dismiss.
A council chamber. My voice—someone’s voice—speaking with absolute authority. Dragon warriors kneeling in formation. Command settling across shoulders like lead.
No. Not mine. Can’t be mine.
A woman’s hand in mine. Dark hair catching firelight. Eyes like stormy skies. Her laugh. Her voice whispering words in that language I speak in dreams.
Pain explodes through my temples.
Castle walls under siege. Fire answering my call— No, not just answering, obeying. Power that felt limitless. Terrifying—
“No.” The word tears from my throat.
“Yes.” Vex moves closer, arms outstretched. “You can feel it now. The resting place of power. Architect of the old order. Builder of everything we seek to restore.”
More images flood in. Faster now. Overwhelming.
Battlefields soaked in blood and ash. Advisors whose names I almost remember. Enemies I almost recognize.
And her. Always her. The woman with dark hair who—
I grip the edge of the dais. My hands shake.
“The woman who died,” I hear myself say. “I see her.”
“Yes.” Creed’s voice carries too much satisfaction. “Lost to treachery. She died protecting what you valued most.”
Her body in my arms. Gone. Everything gone.
The memory dissipates. Skitters away before I can hold it.
“You understand now,” Vex says. “The clans have fallen into disorder. We need you now more than ever.”
I look at the stone figure again. At the face carved in rest that never came.
They made a tomb for a king who didn’t die.
