The peace that settled over the floating city was a fragile one—beautiful, yes, but delicate as glass. Every smile exchanged, every tender glance between Lucien and Eiran, was shadowed by the weight of a history neither of them had chosen.
And yet, beneath it all, a new world was stirring.
---
Lucien woke that morning with Eiran curled against his side, his breath warm against Lucien's neck, an arm draped possessively around his waist. The early light bathed the chamber in gold, casting halos across their entangled forms.
Lucien didn't move.
He had never known such peace in his old life. His mornings had been filled with alarms, deadlines, rushing between work and distraction. Here, time slowed. Every heartbeat with Eiran felt like a gift borrowed from the heavens.
But the gods didn't give freely. And Lucien knew the cost was still to come.
Eiran stirred, his lashes fluttering open. "You're awake."
Lucien smiled. "Didn't want to wake you."
Eiran yawned and tucked himself closer. "You always think too much in the mornings."
"Force of habit."
Eiran tilted his head up, meeting Lucien's gaze. "Want me to help you forget for a little while?"
Lucien's breath caught as Eiran leaned in, brushing their lips together. Slow, unhurried. Like the world outside didn't exist. For a moment, it didn't.
But the knock on the chamber door shattered it.
Sorrel's voice, firm and alert: "You both need to come to the observatory. Now."
---
The observatory towered above the city, its dome forged from starlight itself. Inside, Sorrel stood by the scrying pool, its surface pulsing with violet light.
"What is it?" Lucien asked, still adjusting his tunic.
Sorrel didn't look up. "A breach."
Eiran stiffened. "Another Rift?"
"No," Sorrel said grimly. "This is something else. Look."
The pool shimmered, revealing an image—an ancient forest, overrun with roots blackened by corruption. At its center, a stone altar pulsed with sickly red light. And atop it… a figure.
Lucien stepped closer. "Who is that?"
The figure turned, and Lucien's blood ran cold.
It was him.
Or rather, Ravencroft. Not as he was now, but the dark echo of who he had once been. Armor soaked in shadows, eyes glowing with hunger. A phantom of power and fury.
Eiran swore. "How is this possible?"
Sorrel's hands trembled. "It's not him. It's a manifestation. A shadow given form by the remnants of his old power. Somehow, the old magic… it's trying to reclaim what it lost."
Lucien's voice was low. "Then it's coming for me."
"No," Sorrel said, eyes locking on his. "It's coming for all of us."
---
Later that night, Lucien sat by the fountain in the moonlit garden, the scent of starlilies thick in the air. He traced patterns in the water with a fingertip, lost in thought.
Eiran found him there.
"You've been quiet again," he said gently.
Lucien looked up, eyes tired. "There's a version of me out there that I buried. One I thought I'd left behind. But he's not gone. He's just… waiting."
Eiran sat beside him. "He's not you. Not anymore."
"But he was," Lucien whispered. "And if I'm not careful, I could become him again."
Eiran took his hand. "You won't. Because you're not alone anymore."
Lucien turned to him, voice breaking. "Do you really believe that?"
Eiran leaned in, resting his forehead against Lucien's. "I believe in you. And I believe in us. Whatever comes next, we face it together."
Lucien closed his eyes. "Then stay with me tonight."
"I'm not going anywhere."
---
At dawn, they stood before the Court once more.
The Elders had convened, robes shimmering with celestial fire. Their expressions were grave.
"We have seen the shadow," one intoned. "It wears your face, Lucien Ravencroft."
"I know," Lucien said. "And I'll stop it."
"Alone?"
"No." He reached for Eiran's hand. "Not this time."
The Elders exchanged glances.
"Then you must seek the Mirror of Haleth, in the ruins of the First Spire," another elder said. "Only the mirror can reveal truth from illusion. It will show you if your soul truly belongs to this path."
"And if it doesn't?" Eiran asked.
The Elder's voice was final. "Then the world will fall."
---
They left that night.
Sorrel joined them, grim determination in her eyes. Their airship soared beyond the floating city, into lands corrupted by Ravencroft's forgotten wars.
Forests twisted with rot, rivers turned to ash, and creatures born of nightmares slithered beneath the soil.
And always, always, Lucien felt the presence. A pull. A whisper in the back of his mind.
You will return to me.
He gritted his teeth. "I won't."
Eiran looked at him. "Did you say something?"
Lucien shook his head. "No. Just… ghosts."
They reached the First Spire after two days of silent travel.
It was a tower broken in half, its top scattered across the mountains like shattered glass. The Mirror of Haleth waited within, surrounded by runes older than time.
As Lucien stepped forward, the wind howled.
The mirror shimmered, and within it… he saw himself.
But not just one self.
A dozen. A hundred. Lives lived and unlived. Choices made and unmade. Faces twisted in rage, or soft with love.
And standing at the center… the shadow.
"You cannot deny me," the shadow said. "We are the same."
Lucien trembled.
"No," he whispered. "We're not. You chose hatred. I choose love."
The shadow lunged—but Lucien did not run. He reached into the mirror, hand glowing with the mark the Court had given him.
Light met darkness.
And everything exploded.
---
Lucien woke to Eiran's arms around him, blood on his lips, the air filled with the scent of burning dreams.
"What happened?" he croaked.
Eiran held him tighter. "You shattered it. The mirror. The shadow—it's gone."
Sorrel stood over them, face pale. "Gone… for now. But not destroyed."
Lucien sat up, chest heaving. "Then we hunt it. We end this, before it finds a new vessel."
Eiran's grip on him tightened. "Together."
Lucien nodded.
But somewhere in the distance, beyond the mountains and the ruins, a laughter echoed.
Soft. Cold. Familiar.
You think the story ends here?
The sky darkened just slightly.
And the stars blinked.
____
To be continued...