And here I stood—wrapped in a gown I hadn’t chosen, in a mountain I didn’t know—while the man beside me spoke my future aloud like it was already his to claim.
The middle Elder’s storm-colored eyes hardened.
“She is not yours to claim, Veyrion. Stars do not bear cages.” A beat. “They burn them.”
My crescent flared again, as if it agreed.
The eldest leaned toward the second elder, voice rasping like stone breaking on ice. “Such bonds have crowned kings and broken empires. To bind her is peril, maybe—but peril has ever been the price of greatness.”
The third’s gaze drifted through me, distant as snowfall. “Empires will not survive… but something better will.”
The second Elder’s mouth pulled into a tight line. She leaned forward, eyes locking on mine.“Enough. She is flesh, blood, and choice—not theory, not omen.” Her voice cut clean through the chamber. “Do you want this? To be bound to Ymirskald?”
My mark blazed, light spilling down my temple. Part of me wanted to scream that I was no one’s prize, no one’s queen. Another part whispered that maybe Veyrion was right—that maybe this was the only way to survive what hunted me.
I looked at Veyrion. He didn’t ask. Hedeclared.
I swallowed hard and lifted my chin. “No.” My voice came out raw, but steady. I turned fully toward him. “You do not get to decide my fate.” The words scraped out like iron dragged across stone.
My heart hammered. My breath came thin and uneven. But the moment it left me, something inside felt… unshackled.
Terrifying. Exhilarating. Inevitable.
Veyrion didn’t flinch. Didn’t rage. He only tilted his head slightly, the ghost of a smile curling at his mouth—as if I’d spoken a line he already knew by heart.
The Elders did not move, but the weight of their attention pressed down like the stillness before an avalanche.
The middle Elder spoke, calm and final. “Then it is decided.”
The third’s ageless voice followed—soft as drifting snow. “The storm is patient.”
My knees trembled, but I forced myself to stand taller under their scrutiny. I had spoken. And the choice had been mine.
The middle Elder turned on Veyrion, storm light in her eyes. “And what did you expect? That we would bless anforcedbonding?” Her mouth twisted with disdain. “That is primitive. You know we do not deal in chains.”
Veyrion’s hand tightened around mine—uninvited. Unyielding.“I only wish to protect her.”
“Even protection can become a prison,” the middle Elder said. “And prisons—no matter how golden—always breed revolt.”
The eldest rose, bones creaking like old ice, and stepped toward me. Her gnarled hand reached for mine, fingers like frozen branches.
My pulse was a frantic drum, but I let her take it.
Her touch was cold—not cruel, but searing with the weight of ages. Her eyes clouded. For a heartbeat, something passed between us—like a door opening just wide enough to glimpse what lay beyond.
Flickers struck like lightning: Children laughing beneath a bioluminescent reef—scales glittering like scattered stars. A silver-haired babe cradled in kelp-wrapped arms, her cry muffled by the sea. A circle of robed figures beneath glowing glyphs, hands pressed to skin. A lullaby—warm and soft—
…and then a hollow chill.
The Elder’s brow furrowed. “They took something you cannot remember losing.”
The world tilted.
I was no longer standing.
I wassmall. So small the world felt enormous. I was wrapped in slick kelp, its strands clinging too tight, my limbs useless and heavy. My mouth opened, soundless at first—then breaking into a thin, terrified wail. Light pulsed at my brow. The crescent glimmered weakly, fragile and new, like it didn’t yet know how to exist in the world. Every beat of my heart sent a flicker of silver-violet through it. Unstable. Alive.
Hands descended.
