Vaelen reached into his robes, pulling free a page of faded parchment. On it, drawn in blood and gold, was the symbol from the Watcher’s visions. The sigil of balance. Of choice. "This is the price the Rift demands," Vaelen said quietly. "One of you must choose destruction, so the other may choose creation."
The breath left Thorne’s lungs in a rush.
Vaelen laid the parchment on the table and turned to go. "Don’t wait too long to make your choice. She’ll try to protect you, even if it means sacrificing herself. And you, the darkness growing in you will let her."
The door shut with a whisper. Thorne stood motionless. His fingers curled slowly into fists. He had faced battlefields and watched men burn. Watched dragons fall from the sky. He had bled for a kingdom that feared what lived in his veins. But this was a war no sword could win. He moved back to the table and stared down at the parchment. The sigil pulsed faintly now, as though it responded to his blood, his bond.
Vornokh stirred outside the chamber; he could feel the dragon's presence, pacing, coiled like fire beneath his skin.“She will choose death over losing you,”Vornokh rumbled.
Thorne’s jaw clenched. “Then I will choose hell to save her.”
As the second moon crept ever closer to the sky, the boy who had been forged of fire and shadow made his decision. He would burn. He would burn down the world to protect and save her. The world would learn what it meant to face a prince who no longer feared damnation.
Chapter
Fifty-Nine
The wind howled like a wounded beast beyond the warded cliffs of Aeromir, where the Veil thinned with every passing moment. Crimson light from the twin blood moons had begun to pour out like molten fire across the shattered stones of the eastern spire, where Queen Elyria stood alone, her white robes fluttering like torn banners in the growing storm.
She had known he would come. The vision had shown her the shape of betrayal: a shadow with golden eyes, wearing her husband’s blood and her children’s silence. And now, Kaen stood at the edge of the sanctum, his boots scraping over the ancient sigils once carved by Watchers. The flames that curled in his palms were not of this world; they were soured by the Rift, burning darker at the core.
“You resemble her,” Elyria said softly, stepping down from the dais. “Like me, once. Before the throne devoured everything.”
Kaen smiled, though there was no warmth. “I suppose I should thank you, Mother. You always told me power demands sacrifice. I listened.”
“You twisted it.” Her voice didn’t rise; it didn't shake. “I gave my visions to the realm. You’ve bartered yours to tear it apart.”
“You sealed yourself in towers and dreams. I made choices. Real ones.” His voice echoed against the chamber walls, sharp with fury. “While you slept beneath wards, I learned what it meant to bleed for legacy.”
A shimmer rippled through the air as a second figure appeared beside Elyria. Commander Dareth. He emerged from the veil of cloaking spells, sword already drawn, armor etched with the silver lines of a commander’s rank. His presence filled the room with calm, brutal certainty, the kind only a man who’d survived too many wars could bring.
Kaen’s eyes narrowed. “Still hiding behind your loyal dog, Mother?”
“I did not summon him,” Elyria said, stepping forward. “He came because even now, someone in this cursed bloodline remembers honor.”
Commander Dareth didn’t speak. His sword answered instead, slicing through the air, crashing against the wall of Kaen’s conjured flame. The impact rippled outward, shaking the sanctum.
Kaen’s laughter was a snarl. “Do you think that blade, a relic though it is, can stop what I’ve become?”
“No,” Commander Dareth said, steel clashing again, this time driving Kaen back a step. “But it will slow you down. That’s all she needs.”
Behind them, Elyria’s eyes closed. Her hands lifted, and from the runes embedded in the floor, the Watcher’s sigil flared with blinding light. The walls trembled. Above, the ceiling cracked as the Veil twisted like a living wound.
“I see you,” Elyria whispered, but she was not speaking to Kaen. “Bearer of Flame and Shadow. I see you watching. You cannot cross yet.”
Kaen roared. Dark flame erupted around him, swallowing Commander Dareth’s defenses, driving the commander to his knees.
“Parish!” the dark prince roared. “You will not delay what is written. The Queen dies here.”
But Elyria, graceful, even as blood trickled from her nose, smiled. “I am not the Queen who falls, my son.” Her magic surged. Aether and Sight braided through her veins, golden light pouring from her palms. She wasn’t fighting Kaen. She was sealing the sanctum and locking the last gate.
Kaen sneered, shadows bursted from his back like wings of ash, but it was too late.
Elyria collapsed. The ward flared, and Kaen was thrown back into the dark.
Commander Dareth crawled to her side, catching her head in his lap. “Elyria, No!”
She smiled faintly, fingers brushing his cheek. “Protect them. The girl. Thorne. They are the bond that must not break.”
