Elara POV
I woke to silence.
Not normal silence. The kind that felt wrong. Heavy. Like the whole mountain was holding its breath.
I sat up slowly. My body ached. The trial had drained me more than I realized. The cracks in my skin were healed but I could still feel them. Faint lines of silver running under my flesh.
Permanent scars from refusing both bonds.
I reached for Kaelen through the bond. Found nothing. Not empty. Blocked. Like he'd closed a door between us.
That scared me more than anything.
I got dressed. Tried the door. Locked from the outside.
Prisoner again.
I paced. Tried to think. Tried to understand what was happening.
Then the Moonfire came back.
Not physically. It was still night. But I felt it. Inside me. Burning. Searching.
The trial wasn't over.
I'd survived the first night. But the fire had found something. A lie I'd been telling myself for so long I'd forgotten it was a lie.
Who are you?
The question echoed in my head.
"I told you," I whispered. "I'm Elara. I'm—"
What do you believe about yourself?
The fire pushed deeper. Not gentle this time. Demanding.
Images flashed through my mind. Memories I'd buried.
My mentor Aldric telling me I was lucky to have a job. That I should be grateful anyone wanted me.
The council staring at me like I was trash.
Kaelen's first look. Not seeing me. Seeing a problem.
Theron's smile. Seeing me as a tool. A weapon. A means to an end.
What is the lie?
"I don't—"
But I did know. Deep down. I'd always known.
The fire burned hotter. Forcing me to say it. To acknowledge it.
"I matter only if someone chooses me," I whispered.
The words tasted like ash.
"I matter only if I'm wanted. If I'm useful. If I'm worth keeping." My voice broke. "I don't exist unless someone else decides I should."
The fire blazed. Not punishing. Recognizing.
That was the lie. The deepest one. The one I'd built my entire life around.
I only mattered if chosen.
"But that's true," I said. Tears ran down my face. "No one wanted me. My parents died. Aldric only kept me because I was cheap labor. Kaelen only protected me because of the bond. Theron only wants me because I'm a weapon. Nobody chose me for me."
The fire pulsed.
Then choose yourself.
The words weren't mine. Weren't the fire's. They came from somewhere deeper.
"How?" I asked. "How do I choose myself when everyone else has decided what I am?"
By deciding for yourself.
Light exploded from my chest. Not silver. Not crimson. Gold. Pure. Bright.
It spread through me like sunrise. Warm. Powerful. Right.
The cracks in my skin blazed. But instead of pain, I felt something else.
Release.
Like chains I didn't know I was wearing suddenly snapped. Like walls I'd built around myself crumbled.
I gasped. Fell to my knees.
The sensations were overwhelming. Not sexual. But close. Like my entire body was waking up for the first time. Like I'd been numb and suddenly every nerve was alive.
My skin tingled. My blood sang. Power surged through me in waves.
I arched back. Hands pressed to the floor. Light pouring from my mouth. My eyes. My wrists.
This was what I was meant to be.
Not Kaelen's mate. Not Theron's weapon. Not a tool. Not a prize.
Just me.
Elara.
Chosen by herself.
The light faded slowly. Sank back into my skin. But it didn't disappear. It stayed. Warm. Steady. Mine.
I stood. My legs shook but held.
I looked at my wrists. The marks were still there. Silver and crimson. But they were different now. Fainter. Like they were losing their hold.
Because I'd chosen myself over both of them.
Then I heard it.
Theron's voice. Not out loud. In my head. Through the crimson mark.
That's it, little flame. Choose yourself. And then choose me.
The words were seductive. Tempting.
I'm the only one who sees you as you are. The only one who doesn't fear your power. Choose yourself—and then let me show you what we can become together.
I touched the crimson mark. Felt his pull. His hunger.
He was right about one thing. He didn't fear me.
But he also didn't love me. He loved what I could do for him.
"No," I said out loud. "I choose myself. Not you. Not Kaelen. Just me."
The mark burned. Angry. Rejected.
But it didn't force me. Couldn't. Because I'd meant it.
For the first time in my life, I'd chosen myself.
And nothing—not bonds, not kings, not prophecy—could take that away.