The night had not yet broken, but Lianna could not sleep. Her chamber in the Crescent Court was silent except for the distant song of crickets and the restless beat of her own heart. She sat by the tall window, knees pulled to her chest, staring at the pale sliver of moon above. Every word of the Oracle's decree still echoed in her mind: Bride of the Forgotten King.
She pressed her palm over the glowing mark on her wrist, half-praying it would fade away. Instead, it pulsed faintly, as though it were alive, mocking her resistance.
A gentle knock came at the door. Lianna stiffened, then whispered, "Come in."
The door creaked open, and Kael stepped inside. His dark figure was outlined by the torchlight of the corridor, his eyes gleaming like storm clouds ready to break.
"You haven't slept," he said quietly, shutting the door behind him.
Lianna turned away from the window. "How could I? My life has been decided by some prophecy I never asked for."
Kael crossed the room and stopped a few steps from her, his presence heavy but strangely grounding. "Prophecies can be twisted. They are not as binding as you think."
Her eyes narrowed. "Then why do you keep treating me like a vessel of fate?"
His jaw tightened, as if she had struck him. For a moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by the pounding of her pulse in her ears. Finally, Kael said, "Because I have seen what happens when one fights destiny blindly. It consumes them—and everyone around them."
Before Lianna could respond, another voice broke the tension. "That's not true."
Both turned sharply. Leaning against the doorframe, Auren stood with his usual lazy elegance, silver hair catching the faint moonlight. Unlike Kael's stormy aura, Auren radiated warmth, almost relief. His smile was gentle, but his eyes burned with quiet defiance.
"Destiny isn't a prison," Auren said, stepping into the room. "It's a path. And paths can be chosen, changed, or abandoned. You don't have to bear this weight alone, Lianna."
Her breath caught. The way he said her name—it was softer, more personal than Kael ever allowed himself to be.
Kael's expression darkened instantly. "What are you doing here?"
Auren ignored him and approached Lianna, kneeling so that his face was level with hers. "I came because I know the mark frightens you. But you are more than that cursed symbol. You are a person, with a will of your own. Remember that."
Lianna's chest ached at his words. It was everything she wanted to hear. Yet a flicker of doubt unsettled her. Why did his gaze feel so comforting… and yet so dangerous?
Kael moved closer, his shadow falling over both of them. "You should leave," he said to Auren, voice low with threat. "She doesn't need your illusions."
"Or maybe," Auren shot back with a smile, "she doesn't need your chains."
The room thickened with tension, as though two storms had collided. Lianna rose quickly, stepping between them. "Stop it! Both of you." Her voice trembled, but it was sharp enough to silence them.
Kael's jaw clenched. Auren tilted his head, a spark of mischief in his eyes, but he didn't press further.
"Arguing about me as if I'm not even here… Do you know how suffocating that feels?" Lianna whispered. She pressed a hand to her chest. "I don't even know what I want yet. But I do know this—I won't let either of you dictate it."
For the first time, both men looked startled.
Before either could answer, a cold wind slithered into the chamber, extinguishing the candles in a single breath. Lianna shivered as the temperature dropped, and the mark on her wrist flared to life, glowing crimson.
Kael instantly shifted into guard mode, blade materializing from shadow. Auren moved to shield Lianna, his warmth clashing against the chill that invaded the room.
From the corner of the chamber, shadows thickened, curling like black smoke until they formed a shape—tall, regal, and shrouded in mist.
A voice older than time whispered: "The chains of destiny cannot be broken. Only embraced."
Lianna's knees nearly buckled as the mark seared her skin. She clutched her wrist and gasped, "Who… who are you?"
The shadow figure extended a hand, though it never moved closer. "You know me already, child of the mark. I am the one who waits in the silence of your blood. I am the Forgotten King."
The air thickened, pressing against Lianna's chest until every breath burned. The shadowy figure stood at the center of the room, its outline half-man, half-nightmare.
Kael moved first. His sword of blackened steel slashed forward, cutting through the air like a bolt of lightning. "Stay away from her!"
The blade struck the figure—but instead of dissipating, the shadow caught it between its fingers. Dark smoke hissed and coiled around Kael's weapon, snuffing out its edge like a candle wick.
Kael's eyes widened, shock breaking through his mask.
The figure tilted its head, voice echoing with ancient amusement. "So fierce, protector. But shadows cannot kill shadows."
Auren placed himself between Lianna and the apparition, one hand resting lightly at his side. Unlike Kael's open hostility, his aura shifted into calm defiance. "If you really are the Forgotten King, then why hide like a coward? Why creep into her chambers instead of facing the world?"
The shadow chuckled—a sound like the creak of tomb doors. "Because it is not yet time. She has not yet chosen me."
The mark on Lianna's wrist burned hotter. She bit her lip to hold back a cry, clutching her hand against her chest. Her body trembled, her breath shallow, yet her eyes locked onto the shadow. "What do you want from me?"
The shadow's gaze seemed to pierce her soul. "Not want. Need. You are my bride, the bridge that binds me to this world. Without you, I remain caged. With you, the chains of my prison shatter."
Her heart hammered painfully. Bride. The word echoed like a curse.
Kael lunged again, fury blazing in his eyes. "You will never have her!" He struck with everything he had, shadows spilling like wings from his back. The clash lit the chamber with violent sparks, but the figure absorbed the attack without flinching.
Auren reached for Lianna, steadying her trembling shoulders. His voice dropped low, meant only for her ears. "Don't listen to him. You're not his bride. You belong to yourself. Remember that."
His words softened the fear in her chest—but also ignited a new conflict. If she didn't belong to the Forgotten King, then why did her blood sing when the shadow spoke?
The figure turned its hollow gaze on Auren. "Pretty words, false guardian. But you cannot shield her from what she is."
Dark tendrils shot across the chamber, wrapping around Lianna's ankles and wrists. She cried out as they yanked her toward the figure.
"Lianna!" Kael roared, severing the tendrils with one brutal sweep. Auren pulled her back against him, his warmth blazing in contrast to the cold grip of fate.
The shadow hissed, form wavering. "You cannot delay the inevitable. The mark binds her to me. And soon, she will understand that resisting me only feeds my hunger."
The air crackled, then the shadow dissolved into smoke, leaving behind a silence so deep it rang in Lianna's ears.
Her knees buckled. Both Kael and Auren reached for her at once, their hands brushing across her arms. She flinched at the contact, overwhelmed, heart racing so fast she thought it might tear from her chest.
"What—what was that?" she whispered, staring at her glowing wrist. "Why does he call me bride?"
Kael's face was carved in stone, fury warring with dread. "Because he intends to claim you. But over my dead body will that happen."
Auren's hand tightened gently on her shoulder. "Don't let his words poison you. You still have a choice, Lianna. A future that isn't chained to that monster."
Her gaze flicked between them—the storm of Kael's protectiveness and the warmth of Auren's defiance. Both fought for her, yet neither had the answer she needed most.
Because deep down, she already knew what terrified her more than the King's claim.
It wasn't the mark.
It wasn't the prophecy.
It was the tiny, traitorous part of her heart that had stirred when the Forgotten King's voice called her bride.
The mark pulsed one last time before fading into silence, leaving only a question echoing in her soul:
Was she truly destined to resist him… or was she already beginning to belong to him?
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