Latisha stared at Rwaine in shock, her breath catching in her throat as the same strange occurrence began again.
Fear engulfed her like flames licking through dry wood, burning away her composure until all that remained was confusion and dread.
She couldn't understand why this was happening again, why the curse seemed to chase him, no matter how far he ran. Her hands trembled, and she froze when she heard his voice.
"The Sinister," Rwaine whispered, his voice hollow and distant, as if it didn't belong to him anymore.
The word sliced through the air like a blade. Latisha's stomach twisted, and cold realization washed over her. It was happening—the prophecy, the one that had been buried in old texts and whispered about for centuries.
Rwaine was only a few steps away from fulfilling his destiny, and the truth of it chilled her to the bone.
Rwaine's body shook violently. His eyes, once calm, were now clouded with something wild and dark. He kept muttering the same words over and over, his tone breaking between human fear and something ancient that lurked within.
"The Sinister will be back…" he murmured again, his voice faint and trembling before his legs gave out beneath him. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
"Rwaine!" Latisha screamed, rushing forward. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she fell to her knees and gathered him into her arms.
His skin felt cold, almost lifeless. Panic made her hands shake as she pulled him close.
"Let's go back," she whispered hurriedly. Her magic flared like a burst of wind, wrapping them both in light. The world twisted and folded, and in a blink, they were standing inside the house of mirrors.
To her shock, Fanaza was there—awake, breathing, and radiant. The blisters that had marred her skin were gone; her once pale, sickly complexion now glowed with life.
She stood in awe of the thousands of mirrors that surrounded her, their endless reflections shimmering in soft light. Fanaza had never been in a place like this before. It was mesmerizing… until curiosity pushed her to raise her hand toward one of the glass surfaces.
"Don't touch it!" Latisha's voice cracked through the air like thunder, startling Fanaza so badly that she stumbled back. "It affects the reflections," she warned sharply.
Latisha waved her hand, and instantly, the mirrors darkened. Their light vanished, replaced by a heavy black void. Fanaza's wide eyes flicked from one lifeless mirror to another, then turned to the sound of movement.
When she saw Rwaine in Latisha's arms, she gasped and ran toward them.
"Rwaine!" she cried, relief flooding her face as she dropped to her knees beside him.
Latisha looked at her for a brief moment, her expression unreadable. "Stay with him. I'll be back." She placed Rwaine gently in Fanaza's arms before vanishing in a swirl of mist.
******
The ground beneath Latisha shifted as she appeared in a cold, underground chamber. The smell of damp stone and old magic filled the air. Latisha hurried down a narrow corridor lit by flickering blue flames.
A large metal door loomed ahead, carved with runes that pulsed faintly. She dropped to one knee as a voice slithered out of the darkness.
"Why have you come?" The creature's tone was ancient, layered with echo and shadow.
Latisha kept her head bowed. "It's about the Sinister, the one of the prophecy."
"What about him?" The creature said.
"He's getting closer to knowing who he is," she said softly, her voice heavy with fear. "But he isn't ready. If he realizes too soon…"
The creature's tone sharpened. "Do not tell me you plan to interfere. You know the cost."
Tears pricked her eyes. "This is unfair. He can't bear the weight of this destiny, it'll destroy him."
"Destiny does not ask for permission," the creature replied, its voice rising like thunder. "If you interfere, you will draw the wrath of the prophecy protectors. Leave the boy alone"
"Who are they?" she whispered.
"You don't want to know." The voice softened, almost pitying. "Rwaine is a beacon that attracts all supernatural beings. If he alters fate, the kingdom will drown in chaos. You can't cheat prophecy, Latisha."
Her shoulders sank. "So I must just… watch him destroy everything?"
"It is time for the Sinister to rise," the creature answered. "Let him fulfill his purpose." The creature said with a loud sigh.
******
Back in the mirrored chamber, Fanaza cradled Rwaine's head on her lap. His breathing was faint but steady. She brushed her fingers through his cloak, her eyes wet and red-rimmed.
"Please wake up," she whispered, her voice breaking. Then, like the faint glow of dawn, his eyelids fluttered. His chest rose, deeper now.
"You're awake," she said softly, her heart leaping.
"Fanaza…" His voice was hoarse, his golden eyes unfocused. He slowly pushed himself upright.
"I'm no longer infected," she said with a trembling smile. "Look, I'm healed."
He exhaled shakily, reaching up to cup her face. His touch was gentle, lingering. "I thought I lost you," he murmured.
"I'm sorry if I scared you," she whispered, holding his hand tightly.
Rwaine's gaze darted around the now-dark mirrors. "Where's the old woman?"
"What old woman?" Fanaza raised her brows.
"The one with the red hair."
Fanaza frowned, recalling. "Yes… I saw her. She helped me. But after she told me to care for you, she disappeared."
Rwaine's eyes flicked to the shadows. Then, like a whisper of wind, Latisha stepped into view.
"Latisha," he said in relief.
Her face was grim. "Your friend is awake. You should leave now."
Rwaine frowned. "Why so suddenly?"
"I have other things to attend to," she said coldly. "You can't stay here."
"Let's just go, Rwaine," Fanaza murmured, tugging at his cloak. She felt a bit uncomfortable staying there.
As they were about to leave, Latisha's voice echoed softly. "Rwaine."
He turned. "Yes?"
Her eyes glimmered faintly. "Take care of yourself."
He tilted his head, uneasy. "You make it sound like a goodbye." He gave a light scoff, then walked away.
The air outside the House of mirrors was crisp, scented with pine and fading rain. As they stepped into the open, a voice called out—a voice so bright and familiar it made Fanaza stiffen.
"Rwaine!"
A girl ran toward them, her hair fluttering, a wildflower clutched in her hand. It was Lana.
Fanaza's stomach twisted. The world suddenly felt too quiet.
Rwaine blinked in shock. "Lana? How did you find me?"
"The old woman told me," Lana said, smiling brightly. "She said I'd find you here."
Fanaza's breath hitched. She turned slightly, looking away, her chest tightening as jealousy and confusion clashed within her. Rwaine took a step toward her, but Lana's fingers caught his wrist.
"Where are you going so fast? I've been waiting for hours," she said with a small pout.
"You shouldn't have done that," he muttered gently.
"But I did," she said, and pressed the flower into his hand. Her eyes flicked toward Fanaza. "Who's the girl?"
Rwaine stayed silent.
Lana smiled stiffly. "Since you won't answer, that's fine."
He turned away from Lana. "I have to speak to her."
Fanaza stood several feet away, her arms wrapped around herself. When Rwaine reached her, she barely looked up.
"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," he said softly.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Who is she to you?" she asked, her voice quiet but trembling with anger.
"She's someone I met with the old woman. We fought the plague doctors together," he said calmly.
"It looked more than that," she murmured.
"There's nothing between us," he said. "Are you jealous?"
"No!" she snapped, voice cracking. She turned away quickly.
"It's written all over your face," he muttered under his breath.
"No!" Fanaza screamed out.
They walked in silence through the woods until the familiar cave came into view.
"You should go back to the palace," Rwaine said finally.
"No," Fanaza replied. "I want to stay for a while."
"Won't they notice you're gone?" Rwaine said softly.
"I'll come up with something," she said weakly. "They don't really care."
His gaze softened. "Are they treating you that badly?"
"I just don't belong there," she whispered. "I'd be happier if I could stay with you."
Rwaine turned sharply. "No. Don't ever think that. My life isn't meant for you."
"I don't mind," she said quietly.
Before he could reply, a shout pierced the air.
"Fanaza!"
She turned and froze. Percival stood at the entrance of the cave, fury burning in his eyes.
He listened to Lyon and went to the mountains, luckily he found them.
"Percival," she breathed.
"So this is what you've been doing?" His voice thundered. "Hiding out in the mountains… with him?" he shot Rwaine a deadly gaze as if he was a pest.
"Percival, please..." Fanaza tried to come up with something.
He ignored her. In two strides he reached Rwaine and punched him hard across the face.
Rwaine stumbled back, his jaw tightening. He didn't retaliate, but anger sparked in his eyes.
"Stop!" Fanaza cried, throwing herself between them.
"What do you want?" Rwaine growled.
Percival sneered. "To see the freak that's been seducing her."
Before anyone could react, he grabbed Rwaine's cloak and yanked it off. The fabric tore away, revealing the scars, burns, deformities, twisting across Rwaine's body—the mark of his curse.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Fanaza's eyes widened. Her hand flew to her mouth. "Your skin…"
Rwaine's chest heaved. He tried to step closer to her, his eyes pleading, but she stepped back, horror etched across her face.
Percival's words were sharp and cruel. "So this is the monster behind the cloak."
"Stop," Rwaine whispered, his voice breaking.
"You thought she'd love you like this?" Percival's words cut deep, merciless. "You should see your face, boy. You actually believed she'd choose you."
"Percival!" Fanaza cried, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Don't....."
But the damage was done. Rwaine saw it, the little fear in her eyes, the way her body recoiled. It shattered something inside him.
"How could you lie to me?" she whispered. "How could you hide this?"
"I had to," he said hoarsely. "No one wanted me because of my skin. I thought… maybe you would."
Percival smirked. "Tell him, Fanaza. Tell him what you've been keeping from your little monster."
Rwaine's head jerked up. "Tell me what?"
"That she's betrothed," Percival said coldly. "She's getting married."
Rwaine's breath caught. The world seemed to tilt and everywhere became blur for a second. "What?"
"It's true," Percival sneered. "You've been wasting your emotions while she belongs to someone else."
Rwaine turned to her, his voice barely audible. "Is that true?"
Fanaza sobbed. "I wanted to tell you… I was scared. I didn't know what to do."
He took a shaky step back. "You were scared, how could you make me fall for you when you were going to marry someone else?" His voice cracked. "You made me believe you cared."
"Rwaine... please, I care. Everything that's happened, it's real and I know you felt it too." Fanaza said.
Rwiane wasn't believing her, he felt heartbroken. How could she do this to him? deceive him and falling in love with two men at the same time.
"Go away," he said, his tone hollow. "You deserve him."
He had accepted his fate.
"What was I even thinking? Hoping I could find love with this horrible skin of mine." Rwaine scoffed in pain.
Percival grabbed her arm roughly and dragged her away as she cried his name.
"Rwaine" she screamed.
Rwaine stood there, trembling. The sound of her voice faded into the wind, leaving only silence and the faint echo of his heartbeat.
His chest ached—an ache that felt too deep to be human.
He walked away blindly, the forest spinning around him. The betrayal tore at him like claws. Every memory of her smile, every moment of her touch burned in his mind until it turned to ash.
He stumbled into the necromancer's lair, his eyes wild.
"Why have you come?" the necromancer asked.
"You remember the deal," Rwaine said, his voice filled with determination. "The new skin. I want it now."
The necromancer smiled thinly. "Ah. Finally, you changed your mind."
He lifted his staff, chanting words that twisted the air. Blue flames encircled Rwaine, burning cold and bright. The sound of whispers filled the chamber, voices of the dead or the damned.
"I warn you," the necromancer said. "This comes with a price, never to love again. If you do, you'll risk returning back to your old self, you'll also be stuck in between life and death. A red bird will watch you always."
"I don't care, just do it." He screamed at him.
"Rwaine, you're breaking laws that should be broken and this will endager your life and everyone around you. Are you willing to be that selfish?" The necromancer asked.
"Just do it, love is nothing but pain," Rwaine said bitterly. "I don't want it."
The ritual began. Fire licked at his flesh, searing away the scars, peeling his curse apart. His screams filled the chamber, raw and terrible. He had never felt pain before but at this moment his body felt it, it was burning.
The process was excruciatingly painful and he would vomit black blood every second.
The scent of smoke and blood filled the air.
When the flames died, Rwaine trembled and the pain left him instantly.
"It is done. Look at your reflection in the pool." The necromancer said pointing at the pool in front of him.
Rwaine ran towards it and saw his reflection, it shimmered and be noticed a great change, smooth skin, golden eyes, perfect and unrecognizable.
The necromancer grinned. "Your new skin"
Rwaine leaned closer to the water. The face that stared back was not his own.
This isn't me," he whispered, staring in disbelief. The man in the water was too perfect to be real.
His once scarred skin was now smooth and pale, glowing faintly under the dim light. Every burn and mark had vanished, replaced by flawless flesh that looked almost otherworldly.
His jaw was sharp, his cheekbones high, and his lips full and soft with a faint rose hue.
But his eyes, those golden eyes shimmered like molten sunlight, both haunting and beautiful. His dark hair fell in loose waves around his face, brushing his neck as he leaned closer to the water.
He touched his reflection with trembling fingers. "This can't be me…" he murmured, voice breaking as the water rippled beneath his hand.
"This is you. I only removed the deformities," the necromancer said proudly, his voice echoing in the dim chamber.
"Thank you," Rwaine whispered, his throat tight. His eyes burned with tears he refused to let fall.
For the first time in his life, he felt… free. The weight of shame that had crushed him for years seemed to lift from his shoulders. He was beautiful—normal—something he had begged the stars for since childhood.
Gratitude flickered in his chest like a fragile flame, directed toward the necromancer who had granted his wish. But beneath that newfound joy, the air seemed heavier, as if the world itself held its breath.
But as that joy settled over him, something unseen rippled through the air. The wind grew colder, the torches flickered low—as if the world itself recoiled.
Rwaine had no idea that what he'd done had broken the laws of the land, or that there was a far greater cost waiting to be paid.
He had invited something far more dangerous than he could ever imagine.
*****
Far away, in the void where time itself held its breath, a voice hissed through the darkness—ancient, furious, and heavy with wrath.
"Who dares to change the prophecy?"