The moonlight spilled like silver over the broken marble of Ravian's fortress, silent and desolate. Nyra stood at the entrance, fingers trembling as they tightened around the blade she had once buried in her own heart.
A part of her still ached.
Not from pain.
From remembering.
Behind her, Kai stood guard while Leo checked the maps Lira had sent through an enchanted whisperbird. Lira's real allegiance still teetered in shadow, but she had risked too much not to be trusted.
"Are you ready?" Leo asked, voice low, eyes scanning the jagged remains of the fallen gates.
Nyra didn't answer.
She stepped forward.
The gates creaked open without resistance.
Inside, the palace was draped in ash and echoes, the once-golden halls defiled by blood sigils and demonic wardings. Somewhere inside, Ravian waited. The one who played gods like puppets. The one who had orchestrated her death.
The one who had worn a crown forged in her blood.
A rush of magic pulsed through her as her foot touched the obsidian-stained floor. Nyra winced but didn't stop. Each memory that surfaced carved deeper into her resolve. The games, the glass-walk, the child she lost.
No more.
Kai drew his blade. Leo stepped beside her.
But she raised a hand.
"Let me go first."
They hesitated but obeyed.
Nyra walked alone through the corridor of shattered mirrors, the glass reflecting every version of herself—the queen, the mother, the murderer, the victim. And then, the flames flickered—and the mirrors showed something else.
A face.
Celeste.
"You followed me," Nyra whispered.
Celeste emerged from the shadows. "I never left."
Nyra blinked. "Why? After everything?"
Celeste's eyes glowed violet. "Because I love you. And because he's not waiting for you inside. I am."
A trap.
Nyra stepped back.
Celeste lunged forward.
Their blades clashed.
The fortress began to awaken with the cries of a thousand imprisoned souls.
---
To be continued in Part 2...