The dream came without warning.
Seraphina stood in a place without sky or ground—only endless shadow, breathing, alive. The air was thick, heavy with ancient memory.
Resonant Queen.
The voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
She turned slowly.
Eyes opened in the dark—massive, countless, burning with intelligence far older than the realm itself.
"You awaken what was sealed," the voice said. "And you do it with love."
Seraphina lifted her chin. "Then show yourself."
A shape emerged—not fully formed, not fully bound. Chains of light and shadow wrapped around it, cracking under pressure.
"I am what your council buried," it said. "What your bond calls back."
She felt it then—a pull deeper than Kael, deeper than the sanctum. Something beneath the world, stirring because she existed.
"You are not my master," Seraphina said steadily.
The darkness laughed. "No. But you are my key."
She woke with a sharp inhale.
Kael was already sitting up beside her, one arm instantly around her shoulders, grounding her before fear could take hold.
"You felt it too," she whispered.
He nodded, jaw tight. "The wards screamed. Old ones."
Seraphina pressed her palm to his chest, feeling the bond steady, anchoring her. "Something is waking."
Kael brushed her hair back gently, his thumb lingering against her skin. "Then we face it together."
At dawn, the council chamber was sealed—only elders, wardens, and the Resonant Queen allowed.
The High Elder looked older somehow. Smaller.
"The prophecy was never destroyed," he admitted. "Only hidden."
He placed a blackened tablet on the table. Runes glowed faintly as Seraphina approached.
"It speaks of a bond-born sovereign," he said quietly. "One who stabilizes magic… and reopens the gate beneath the realm."
Silence fell.
Kael's hand tightened around hers. "What gate?"
The elder met Seraphina's eyes. "The First Seal. Beneath the capital."
Seraphina felt no fear. Only clarity.
"And if it opens?" she asked.
The elder exhaled. "Then something ancient will rise. Something that remembers when the world was unruled."
Kael's voice dropped, fierce. "And if we refuse?"
The runes flared brighter.
"You cannot," the elder said. "It has already chosen her."
Seraphina squeezed Kael's hand once. "Then we don't run."
She turned to the council, power humming calmly beneath her skin.
"We prepare," she said. "On my terms."
That night, on the same balcony where the realm had named her queen, Kael pulled her close, arms wrapping around her from behind.
"You're not alone in this," he murmured against her hair. "Even fate doesn't get to take you from me."
She leaned into him, eyes on the stars. "Then don't let it."
His grip tightened—protective, possessive, unyielding.
Below them, deep beneath the city, something stirred.
And for the first time in centuries, it whispered her name.