Eleanor's POV
Dawn comes too fast.
The guards unlock my cell before the sun fully rises. I haven't slept. How could I, when my body is falling apart?
"Time to go," one guard says. He won't look at my face.
They don't bind my hands—nobody wants to touch me. I follow them through empty corridors. It's so early that most of the palace still sleeps. Good. I don't want anyone watching me leave like this.
But someone is watching.
Cassian stands at the end of the hallway. My heart jumps. He's still wearing his formal clothes from yesterday, like he never went to bed. His blonde hair is messy. His eyes are red.
"Cassian," I breathe. Maybe he still loves me. Maybe he'll fight for me.
He takes one step forward, then stops. His face twists with something that looks like pain. "Eleanor, I—"
"Please," I interrupt. "Tell them this is wrong. Tell my father I can be cured. You know me. You know I'm not a monster."
"But you are." His voice breaks. "Look at you."
I look down. More black veins have appeared overnight, spreading across my neck like evil spiderwebs. My fingertips are completely black now, leaking that awful shadow mist. Even my reflection in the window shows a stranger—half of my face still looks like me, but the other half is changing, darkening.
"I'm still Eleanor," I say desperately. "I'm still the girl you asked to marry."
"That girl is dead." Cassian's hands clench into fists. "What you are now... it's an abomination. I could never marry something like you. I could never love—" He stops, shaking his head. "Goodbye, Eleanor."
He walks away.
Each footstep echoes in my chest. The boy I thought I'd spend my life with just called me a 'something.' Not even human. Just a thing to be thrown away.
The guards push me forward, out of the palace, across the grounds. The Borderlands gate looms ahead—a massive iron door built into the wall that surrounds our kingdom. Beyond it lies the wasteland, where exiles and criminals are sent to die.
My father waits at the gate. I didn't think he'd come, but here he is, standing tall and cold in his royal robes.
"Father—" I start.
"You're dead to us," he interrupts. His voice is hard as stone. "Be grateful we're only exiling you. The Council wanted immediate execution."
"Immediate execution?" My voice shakes. "For an accident?"
"There are no accidents with shadow magic, Eleanor. Only choices." He signals to the guards. "Open the gate."
The iron door groans open. Through it, I see nothing but gray wasteland—cracked earth, dead trees, smoke rising in the distance. Even from here, I can feel how wrong it is. How dead.
"Please don't do this," I whisper one last time.
My father's expression doesn't change. "You stopped being my daughter the moment you touched that cursed tree. Now go."
A guard shoves me forward. I stumble through the gate, and it slams shut behind me with a sound like a coffin closing.
I'm alone.
The wasteland stretches endlessly in every direction. No roads. No shelter. No water. Just cracked earth and dead things. The sky is gray and sunless. The air smells like ash.
I take one step, then another. My legs shake. The corruption is spreading faster now—I can feel it eating through my chest, wrapping around my ribs. Every breath is agony.
How long did the Elder say I had? Days? I don't think I have even that much time.
I walk for what feels like hours but might only be minutes. Time is strange here. My vision blurs. I trip over rocks I don't see. The shadow mist leaking from my hands is thicker now, almost solid.
I'm dying.
I collapse on the cracked ground, gasping. My whole body convulses. The black veins reach my heart, and pain explodes through my chest. I scream, but no sound comes out.
This is it. This is where I die. Alone in a wasteland, thrown away like trash, while my sister takes everything that should have been mine.
Tears stream down my face. I'm so angry. So scared. So alone.
Then I feel it again—that pull from last night. That invisible thread tugging at my chest, stronger now. It's coming from somewhere ahead, deeper in the wasteland.
Find me, something seems to whisper. Before it's too late.
I don't know what it is. I don't know if it will help or hurt me. But I'm dying anyway, so what do I have to lose?
Using my last bit of strength, I drag myself forward. One inch. Then another. The pull gets stronger, like a rope wrapped around my heart, dragging me toward something.
My vision goes dark around the edges. My arms give out. I face-plant in the dirt, unable to move anymore.
The corruption surges through me in one final wave. This is it. I'm going to die right here.
Then I hear footsteps.
Someone is walking toward me. Through my fading vision, I see boots. Black boots with strange silver symbols stitched into them.
A man's voice, cold and almost amused: "Well, well. Aren't you interesting."
Hands touch my shoulders—hands covered in tattoos that glow with shadow magic—and everything goes black.