By the time the sun fell behind the peaks of the Warded Isles, Elira knew something was changing.
The mark on her skin no longer simply pulsed with warmth—it whispered. Not in words, but in emotions that didn't belong to her. Longing. Hunger. Power. Dreams haunted her sleep: a throne carved from black flame, a crown forged in light and shadow, and a voice… ancient and waiting.
It was no longer Kaelen's magic she felt stirring inside her.
It was someone—or something—else.
She hadn't told him the full truth. Not yet.
Every time she touched the sigil beneath her collarbone, it throbbed like a second heartbeat. It wasn't painful. It was... intimate. Alive. But most of all—it was listening.
---
The Academy had noticed.
Professors passed her in the halls without a word, their eyes lingering a second too long. Enchanted lanterns flickered when she walked by. Even the living tapestries, once animated with endless movement, had stilled in her presence.
That evening, the message arrived.
Delivered by a raven with eyes like black crystal, a folded parchment sealed in obsidian wax:
> Elira Veyr,
The Trial begins at the Black Circle.
Midnight. Bring no spellbooks. Bring only your truth.
— Magister Solen, Voice of the Flame
---
Kaelen found her in the East Library, where starlight streamed through tall windows onto the ancient map of the constellations. She stood in silence, her fingers trailing along the line of the Serpent Star.
He paused in the doorway, breathless from searching.
"Elira."
She didn't turn immediately.
"They summoned me," she said softly. "The Trial begins tonight."
Kaelen stepped into the light, his features drawn and tense. "I thought we had more time."
Her eyes finally met his. "We never did."
He took a few careful steps toward her, as if she were fragile—or divine. The air between them shimmered with unsaid things.
"I can feel him," she whispered, placing her hand over the mark. "The king. He's dreaming through me. And the worst part?" She paused. "I don't feel afraid."
Kaelen's expression broke.
"You were never meant to carry this," he said. "The spell... it was meant to awaken him through desire. But it shouldn't have responded to you."
"It didn't just respond," Elira said. "It chose me."
She took a step closer. The moonlight wrapped around her like a veil, and Kaelen thought she looked more like prophecy than person.
"Then tell me his name," she said. "If he's inside me, I deserve to know."
Kaelen hesitated.
His jaw tightened, torn between duty and devotion. "If I speak it aloud… it could awaken him fully."
Elira's voice trembled, but her eyes stayed steady. "Then we awaken him. Together."
Kaelen closed the distance between them, cupping her face gently in his hands. His thumb brushed her cheek, slow and reverent. No longer a kiss of hunger—this touch was an oath.
"If anything happens," he whispered, "if I lose you to this…"
"You won't," she said, leaning into his palm. "Because I'm not lost."
He closed his eyes for a moment, then leaned in until their foreheads touched. His lips brushed the curve of her cheek—tender, sacred.
Then, in a breath that carried the weight of forgotten centuries, he whispered the forbidden name.
The room darkened.
Candles died all at once.
A wind curled through the library like a ghost, rustling pages and rattling ancient chains.
The sigil on her chest flared—burning gold.
And just for a moment, her eyes glowed with the same divine light.
---
Far beneath the Academy, stone groaned as something stirred.
The Arcane King had heard his name.
And now… he was listening.