Elara's POV
"Your sister is alive."
I watch Asheron's face drain of all color as he stares at the letter. His hands are shaking—the Dark King, the immortal tyrant, is shaking.
"That's impossible," he whispers. "I saw her die. I held her body."
"What happened?" I ask softly.
He doesn't answer for a long moment. Then: "The War of Dying Light. Three hundred years ago. The enemy had us surrounded. My father was already dead. My mother and younger brother killed in the first attack. Selene—my sister—she was seventeen. Brave. Brilliant. Too young to die."
He stops, his jaw clenching.
"Go on," I encourage gently.
"The dark sorcerer who offered me the curse—he said he could only save one person. Me or Selene. I could become immortal and save the kingdom, but she would die. Or she could take the curse and I would die." His voice breaks. "I chose myself. I chose power. And I watched her bleed out from her wounds while I transformed into this... thing."
My heart aches for him. "You were twenty-three and terrified. You made an impossible choice."
"I was a coward." He crumples the letter. "And now she's alive somehow, and she's coming to make me pay for it."
"Your Majesty," Kieran interrupts. "We need to mobilize the army. Fortify the borders. Prepare the capital for siege—"
"No." Asheron's voice is hollow. "She's not coming to siege us. She's coming to destroy us. Completely. She has three hundred years of rage fueling her."
"Then what do we do?" I ask.
"We prepare for war." He straightens, and I see him push down his emotions, becoming the king again. "Kieran, mobilize every soldier we have. Send riders to our allied territories. We need reinforcements."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Kieran hurries out.
Asheron turns to the remaining nobles. "All of you. Return to your estates. Gather your house guards and supplies. Anyone who can fight reports to the capital within two days. Anyone who can't, evacuates south. Now go."
The nobles scatter like frightened birds.
Soon it's just me, Asheron, and my father being tended by healers in the corner.
"What can I do?" I ask.
Asheron looks at me like he's seeing me for the first time. "You can leave. Take your father. Get as far away from here as possible."
"We've been through this. I'm not running."
"Elara, this is different from Seraphine. This is an army. This is—" He stops. "This is my sister who has every right to hate me. She might spare civilians but she'll slaughter anyone standing by my side."
"Good thing I'm not just standing by your side." I move closer. "I'm fighting beside you. There's a difference."
Something shifts in his expression. Gratitude. Wonder. Fear.
"You barely know me," he says quietly. "Why would you risk your life for me?"
"Because you're not the monster everyone says you are. Because you gave my father justice. Because when I touch you, I feel..." I hesitate, not sure how to explain. "I feel like we're connected somehow. Like we're meant to fight together."
"The bond," he murmurs. "I feel it too. Ever since you first healed me. It's like our magic is... intertwined."
Before I can respond, a massive explosion rocks the palace.
We're thrown off our feet. Stone rains from the ceiling. Screams echo through the halls.
"What was that?" I gasp.
Asheron's face goes white. "They're here. Three days early. She's already here."
We run to the window. In the distance, fire lights up the night sky. The northern wall of the city is burning. And beyond it, I see them.
Thousands of soldiers. All wearing black armor that seems to absorb light. And at their front, riding a massive black horse, is a woman.
Even from this distance, I can see she looks like Asheron. Same silver hair. Same sharp features. But where his eyes are haunted, hers are full of cold fury.
"Selene," Asheron breathes.
The woman raises her hand. Dark magic gathers around her—more power than I've ever seen anyone wield except Asheron.
She throws it forward.
The magic hits the palace shields with enough force to crack them. The entire building shakes.
"She's stronger than me," Asheron says, horror in his voice. "How is she stronger than me?"
"Because you've been poisoned for years," I remind him. "You're not at full strength."
"Then we're doomed."
"No." I grab his arm. "We're not. Because you're not fighting alone."
Another explosion. Closer this time. The shields are failing.
"We need to evacuate the palace," Asheron says, snapping into action. "Everyone to the underground tunnels. Kieran!"
Kieran appears, bloody but alive. "The east wall has fallen. They're in the city."
"How many?"
"Thousands. Maybe ten thousand. And they're not just soldiers." Kieran's face is grim. "They're dark creatures. Things I've never seen before. Shadows that move like they're alive. Monsters made of pure magic."
Asheron's jaw clenches. "She made an army from the dark realm itself."
"What does that mean?" I ask.
"It means normal weapons won't work. Normal strategies won't work. She's brought hell itself to my doorstep."
As if to prove his point, something crashes through the throne room windows.
It's not human. It's made of living shadow, with glowing red eyes and claws like knives. It screams—a sound that makes my ears bleed.
Kieran slashes at it with his sword. The blade passes right through like it's cutting smoke.
"Light magic!" Asheron shouts. "Only light magic can hurt them!"
I don't think. I just act.
Golden light erupts from my hands, forming a spear of pure energy. I throw it at the shadow creature.
It hits dead center. The creature shrieks and dissolves into nothing.
Asheron stares at me. "You can weaponize your light magic?"
"Apparently." I'm shaking from the effort. "But I can't fight a whole army by myself."
"You won't have to." Asheron's eyes start glowing silver-blue. "I still have some power left. Between us—"
Another explosion. The ceiling caves in. We barely dodge the falling stone.
"We're out of time," Kieran says. "Your Majesty, we need to go. Now."
"Where?" Asheron asks. "There's nowhere safe."
"The old fortress," my father says weakly from where the healers are supporting him. "The one your grandfather built in the mountains. It has ancient shields. Protections from the old war. If we can get there—"
"It's three days' journey," Asheron interrupts. "We'll never make it with an army chasing us."
"Then we buy time." I step forward. "You, Kieran, and I hold them off while everyone else evacuates. Once they're clear, we run."
"You'll die," Asheron says flatly.
"Maybe. But so will everyone else if we don't try."
He stares at me. Then he does something unexpected.
He kisses me.
It's brief, desperate, and full of everything he can't say. When he pulls back, his eyes are fierce.
"If we survive this," he says, "I'm going to tell you everything. About my past. About the curse. About why you're the first person in three hundred years who makes me want to live instead of just survive."
"Deal," I whisper. "But we have to survive first."
"Then let's give my sister a proper welcome."
We run to the main gates. Outside, the army is advancing. Shadow creatures pour through the streets. Buildings burn. People scream.
Asheron raises his hands and dark magic explodes from him, forming a massive barrier across the gate.
I add my light magic to it. The barrier turns from pure darkness to swirling twilight—shadow and light mixed together.
It holds. Barely.
"How long can you maintain this?" Kieran asks.
"Minutes," Asheron says through gritted teeth. "Maybe less. Get everyone to the tunnels. Move!"
Kieran runs to organize the evacuation.
On the other side of the barrier, Selene approaches on her horse. She dismounts gracefully and walks right up to the swirling magic.
This close, I can see her clearly. She's beautiful in a terrifying way. Ancient and powerful and absolutely full of hate.
"Hello, brother," she says, her voice carrying through the barrier. "Did you miss me?"
"Selene." Asheron's voice shakes. "I thought you were dead."
"I was. For about ten minutes. Then I made my own deal with the dark sorcerer. A better deal than yours." She smiles coldly. "He gave me immortality without the weakness you suffer. Gave me power you can't imagine. And all I had to do was promise to come back and make you pay for choosing yourself over me."
"I'm sorry," Asheron says. "I'm so sorry. I was young and scared and—"
"Three hundred years too late for sorry." Selene places her hand on the barrier. It cracks under her touch. "I'm going to destroy everything you love. Everyone who stands with you. And then I'm going to kill you slowly while you beg for mercy."
She pushes harder. The barrier shatters.
Shadow creatures pour through, screaming.
"Run!" Asheron grabs my hand. "RUN!"
We sprint back into the palace. Behind us, the screaming gets closer. The creatures are fast. Too fast.
We turn a corner and come face to face with five shadow creatures blocking our path.
We're trapped.
Asheron pulls me close, his magic flaring. "Whatever happens, stay behind me—"
The shadow creatures attack.
But before they reach us, they explode into light.
I blink in confusion. We didn't do that.
Someone else did.
A figure steps out of the shadows. An old woman with white hair and eyes that glow with pure light magic.
"Maven?" I gasp.
But Maven shakes her head. "Not quite, child."
Her form shifts, grows taller, younger. The old healer I met becomes someone else entirely.
Someone powerful. Someone ancient.
"My name is Lysandra," she says. "And I've been waiting three hundred years for this moment."
She looks at Asheron with eyes full of knowledge.
"Your Majesty, it's time you learned the truth about your curse. About why it was never meant to kill you." She pauses. "And about why your sister and I have been working together since the beginning to free you from it."
My blood runs cold.
"You're working with Selene?" Asheron breathes.
"Not working for her. Working with her. There's a difference." Lysandra's smile is sad. "Everything that's happened—Seraphine's betrayal, the poisoning, this war—all of it was necessary to bring you to this moment."
"What moment?" I demand.
She looks at me. "The moment when you finally have enough power, enough desperation, and enough love to break the curse properly."
"Love?" Asheron whispers.
Lysandra looks between us. "The curse can only be broken by someone who wields both light and shadow. Someone who has bonded with you magically and emotionally. Someone willing to sacrifice everything to save you."
She's looking at me.
"No," Asheron says immediately. "No. Whatever you're planning—"
"The choice is hers," Lysandra interrupts. "It was always going to be hers."
She turns to me fully.
"Elara Veylan. Will you bind your life force to his? Will you share his curse and his immortality? Will you become his equal in all ways—power, life span, soul?"
My mind spins. "What happens if I say no?"
"He stays cursed. Slowly dying. And this war continues until everyone you love is dead."
"And if I say yes?"
"You become like him. Immortal. Powerful. Bound to him for eternity. You can never leave him. Never be free of him. Your life becomes his life. His death becomes your death."
Asheron grabs my shoulders. "Don't. Don't even consider it. I won't trap you like that—"
"It's my choice," I say quietly.
I look at him. At this broken king who chose survival three hundred years ago and has regretted it every day since. At this man who makes me feel powerful and vulnerable and alive all at once.
At this bond between us that feels more real than anything I've ever known.
I turn to Lysandra.
"Tell me how."