Kael Blackthorn had ruled since he was nineteen.
He had crushed rebellions, negotiated blood-soaked treaties, and sentenced traitors without flinching. Fear had never lived in his chest—only duty.
Until Elara Nightwind collapsed in his arms.
He stood alone in the shadowed chamber long after the healers left, fists clenched at his sides, staring at the door behind which she slept. The palace was silent, yet his mind roared.
She remembers.
The words echoed like a curse.
Morvain's voice replayed again and again—too calm, too certain.
She remembers.
Remembers what?
Kael turned sharply and strode to the window, dragging in a breath that did nothing to steady him. Moonlight washed over the stone floor, pale and unforgiving.
Since the night before, his dreams had been wrong.
Not vague impressions or half-formed images—no. They were vivid. Brutal. Detailed.
Blood on marble.
Chains.
Her scream.
He pressed a hand to his chest as the memory surged again without warning.
Elara kneeling.
Looking up at him.
Trusting him.
"No," he muttered.
He hadn't dreamed that before.
He had lived it.
Kael staggered back, bracing a hand against the wall as pain lanced through his skull. Images flooded his mind in violent fragments—too real to be imagination.
A sword in his hand.
Her blood on the blade.
The mate bond snapping with a sound like glass shattering inside his soul.
He gasped.
"That never happened," he said aloud, his voice hoarse. "I would never—"
Wouldn't I?
His silver eyes darkened.
Power.
The council.
The realm.
He had chosen those things before.
Hadn't he?
A sharp knock sounded at the door.
Rowan entered cautiously, his beta's expression tense. "Your Majesty… the council requests your presence."
Kael laughed—short, humorless.
"Of course they do."
"They're… concerned," Rowan added. "About her."
Kael turned slowly.
"Touch her," he said coldly, "and I will tear this council apart stone by stone."
Rowan stiffened. "You're certain?"
Kael didn't answer. He didn't need to.
He dismissed Rowan with a gesture and returned his gaze to the door of Elara's chamber.
He felt it now—faint but undeniable.
The mate bond wasn't forming.
It was reconnecting.
And that terrified him more than any enemy ever had.
Elara dreamed of fire.
Not the consuming kind—but the quiet, glowing heat of the moon.
She stood in a vast silver field, barefoot, her hair loose down her back. Above her, the Moon Goddess watched with ancient, unreadable eyes.
You returned when you were not meant to.
"I died when I was not meant to," Elara replied calmly.
The goddess tilted her head. Fate was altered.
"Yes," Elara said. "By him."
Silence stretched.
Do you still desire the bond?
Elara's chest ached.
"I desire truth," she said softly. "And choice."
The goddess studied her for a long moment.
Then the bond will test you both.
The moonlight flared—
Elara woke with a sharp gasp.
Her body was weak, drained, but her mind was clear.
Too clear.
She wasn't alone.
Kael stood near the foot of the bed, his presence heavy in the room.
"You shouldn't be here," she said quietly.
"And yet," he replied, "you woke me from my sleep screaming my name."
She frowned. "I didn't."
Kael's jaw tightened.
"That's the problem," he said. "You did. In my dream."
Their eyes locked.
Something unspoken passed between them—fear, recognition, something dangerously close to understanding.
"You told the council you'd worn the binding circlet before," Kael said carefully. "Explain."
Elara sat up slowly, ignoring the ache in her limbs.
"If I do," she asked, "will you believe me?"
He hesitated.
"I don't know," he admitted.
She smiled faintly. "At least you're honest now."
Kael exhaled sharply. "You're implying a future that hasn't happened."
"I'm stating a past you don't remember," Elara corrected.
The room felt too small.
Kael stepped closer. "Then tell me how it ends."
Her gaze hardened.
"With my execution."
The word hit him like a blow.
Kael staggered back half a step, staring at her as if she'd struck him.
"I would never—"
"You did," she said softly. "On the council's word. On forged evidence. And you never looked back."
Silence swallowed the room.
Kael's hands shook.
His dreams weren't lies.
They were memories.
"You loved me," Elara continued quietly. "But you loved the throne more."
Kael closed his eyes.
For the first time in his life, the weight of the crown felt unbearable.
"What happens now?" he asked hoarsely.
Elara met his gaze, her expression unreadable.
"Now," she said, "you choose differently."
A long pause.
Kael opened his eyes.
"I don't know how to undo what I don't remember," he said.
"You don't have to," Elara replied. "Just don't repeat it."
Their bond stirred—quiet, fragile, uncertain.
Kael bowed his head slightly.
A king's gesture.
A man's surrender.
"I will protect you," he said. "From the council. From fate. From myself, if I must."
Elara looked away.
"Protection without truth is just another cage."
He had no answer.
And that terrified him most of all.