The paper in his hand was starting to crumple from how hard he was gripping it. His mother's handwriting stared back at him like it carried every ounce of guilt he'd buried for weeks
"Protect her.
She's the one with the mark too.
You both share the same fate."
He didn't even wait to think.
Killian practically flew down the stone staircase that led to the underground dungeon.
His boots pounded against the steps. One thought looped in his mind like a curse.
She has a good heart
She's like me.
And I've been locking her up like she's the enemy.
But when he reached the dungeon corridor, he slowed. Because—
Laughter.
Not quite, awkward chuckles.
Full-on, cackling, knee-slapping chaos.
Killian blinked. He thought he was going mad for a second. Did Saphira finally lose it?
Then came the voices.
He inched toward the thick stone door and paused near a crack where sound slipped through like betrayal.
The underground dungeons erupted in laughter.
Killian's eye twitched.
Okay. Deep breaths. Maybe they're not talking about me.
Some guy—the one who looked like a feral raccoon—said in a deep, gravelly voice, "I don't have emotions. . Also, I hate everyone but her, which makes no sense, but I'm too emotionally constipated to admit it."
The boy dropped his voice several octaves.
Saphira wheezed.
The kind of laugh that hit her soul.
Killian felt himself short-circuit.
Then came the final blow:
"He was probably just on his period that week. That explains the mood swings.''
The dungeon broke into chaos. One guy actually fell off the bench. Soren was crying from laughing too hard. Saphira looked smug, glowing, and even.
Killian's grip on the letter tightened.
Jealousy prickled under his skin like venom.
Saphira. His prisoner. Sitting wrapped in blankets, surrounded by five guys, eating cherries like she was queen of the underworld and they were her stupidly loyal fan club.
Soren was right next to her, shoulder to shoulder. One guy, whom Killian mentally labeled Peach Boy, plucked a cherry from the bowl and gently offered it to her.
She took it.
Killian snapped.
The door SLAMMED open with a thunderous bang.
Everyone jumped.
Cherries flew. Soren actually flinched.
Killian stood in the doorway like a storm in human form—black coat swirling, fury radiating off him like heat from a wildfire, and that crumpled letter clutched in his hand like a weapon.
Saphira blinked at him. "Oh. Speak of the devil. And he appears. With cramps."
He stormed in.
"You're out of your cell."
Saphira shrugged. "Am I?''
"Do not test me."
" Oh no!," she said, fake-gasping. "The mood swings are back. Everyone, hide your knives."
One of the boys slowly scooted his chair back.
Killian's eyes flicked to the letter. He held it up to her.
He cut his glare across the room, straight at Soren and the others.
"Out."
Nobody moved.
Killian's voice dropped, low and dangerous. "I said, out."
The boys exchanged uneasy glances. Soren muttered something under his breath, but they all filed toward the door. None of them dared test him when he was like this.
Saphira raised a brow, lounging against the bench like a queen watching her guards bow. "Oh, so now I'm special guest instead of prisoner? How generous of Your Majesty."
"Come with me," Killian said, his voice sharper than steel.
She tilted her head, still mocking, but her eyes flickered with curiosity. "Why?"
"Because I need to talk to you." He paused, then added, "Alone."
Something in his tone—too heavy, too raw—cut through her defiance for a moment. She rose, dusting off her skirt, and followed him out of the dungeon corridor.
They climbed the steps in silence, torchlight flickering across stone walls. Killian didn't stop until they reached an abandoned hall away from the guards. He finally turned, his chest rising and falling like he'd just fought a war.
Saphira crossed her arms. "Alright. You've dragged me here. What is it this time? Another accusation? A new punishment?"
Killian slowly opened his hand. The letter lay crumpled in his palm, edges torn from how tightly he had been holding it.
"It's not punishment," he said quietly. "It's the truth. About you. About your family."
Her eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
He stepped closer, pressing the letter into her hand. His gaze didn't leave her face, not even as she hesitated before unfolding it.
Saphira began to read.
At first, her brows furrowed. Then her lips parted. Her breathing hitched. Her hands shook violently as she clutched the parchment.
"No…" her voice broke. "No, this isn't—this can't—"
Killian's throat tightened. "I didn't know either. I thought you lied. I thought you were like them. And I hurt you for it. I'm sorry, Saphira. I'm so damn sorry."
She stumbled back a step, her eyes darting over the lines again as if reading them a second time would change the meaning.
Her parents.
The Mark.
The creation.
The betrayal.
She felt her stomach drop into nothing.
"They did this?" she whispered, horror spreading across her face. "They created the Mark of Fate? My parents?"
Killian swallowed, guilt in every word. "Yes. They were the reason my family suffered. The reason yours did too. The reason this curse even exists."
Saphira's grip on the letter tightened until it nearly tore. "So all this time… I was fighting an enemy I didn't even know was my blood."
She laughed bitterly, the sound cracking. "The enemy was in me all along."
"No," Killian said sharply, stepping forward. "Not in you. Never in you. You didn't choose this. You didn't even know. You're not them, Saphira. You're better than them."
Her eyes brimmed with tears, though she fought to keep them from falling. "And you… locked me away without ever asking who I really was."
His jaw clenched. "I know. And I'll regret that every day I breathe. But I'm telling you now, my mother's last words weren't just truth. They were a warning."
He looked at her fiercely, his voice steady even though his chest burned.
"Protect her. Guide her. Trust her. That's what she wrote."
Saphira's heart twisted. She stared down at the letter, her parents' sins bleeding through every word, her whole world upended in a single night.
And for the first time, she wasn't sure if she was going to break apart… or burn everything down.