POV: Sera
I'm still shaking when the healer's chambers spin around me.
Zhal'kara has me on a medical bed—soft and cushioned, nothing like the cold stone of the throne room. The symbols on my skin have faded to a dull bronze, but I can still feel them burning underneath, like something alive trying to claw its way out.
"Your transformation is stabilizing," Zhal'kara says, pressing cool hands to my forehead. "But you've awakened power that's been dormant for generations. Your body needs time to adjust."
"How much time?" I ask weakly.
"Days. Weeks. Possibly months." Zhal'kara's expression is grim. "No one alive has experience with a Catalyst at full awakening. We're in uncharted territory."
Uncharted territory. That's one way to describe my life falling apart.
The healer leaves briefly, and I'm alone with my spiraling thoughts. I was ordinary this morning. Powerless. Disposable. Now I'm something ancient. Something that shouldn't exist. Something that everyone in this Citadel suddenly sees as either salvation or destruction.
I think of Kael'thor's fear when I transformed. The way his four eyes widened, the way his hands shook as he held me. For a moment, I wasn't a prize to protect. I was something that terrified him.
The door to the chamber opens.
I expect Zhal'kara returning with medicine or supplies. Instead, a woman walks through—human, scarred, muscular, with dark hair pulled back in a warrior's braid and eyes that have seen horrors and survived them.
She grins at my shock.
"Surprise," she says, moving to sit on the edge of my bed like we're old friends. "I'm Nova. I was Offered six months ago. And unlike you, I didn't get special treatment from the King on day one."
I stare at her. An actual human who survived the Offering. Who's alive in the Citadel. Who's clearly not a prisoner or a pet.
"How are you..." I start, but I don't know how to finish that sentence.
"Alive?" Nova shrugs. "Stubbornness. Cunning. A refusal to die on someone else's schedule. Pick whichever reason makes you feel better." She leans back, studying me with an intensity that reminds me of Kael'thor. "But more importantly, how are you holding up? The entire Citadel has been buzzing about you for the last hour. A human who glows. A human who can see desires. A human the King literally went feral protecting."
Heat rises to my cheeks. "He was just—"
"Possessive as hell?" Nova finishes, laughing. "Yeah. I noticed. So did everyone else." She turns serious. "Listen, I don't know what your situation is—and I'm not going to pry, though I'm definitely going to pry later—but right now, you need to understand something: being valuable in this place is complicated."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
Nova stands and pulls me to my feet, steadying me when I wobble. "Come on. You need to get out of these chambers. Seeing you locked away will only fuel rumors."
She half-drags, half-guides me through corridors I didn't know existed. We pass guards who bow to me without Nova having to say anything. Mutants stop and stare. Some whisper. Some look afraid.
Finally, we reach a chamber I recognize—the beautiful guest room with windows overlooking the alien landscape. Nova closes the door firmly behind us and locks it.
"This is where I stay," she explains, gesturing to the space. "And now you're here. Which is smart, actually. Puts you in the royal wing but gives you space from the King's private chambers. Good political move, even if he's not thinking politics right now."
I sink onto the bed, my legs suddenly unable to hold me up. "What happens now?"
Nova sits beside me, and her expression shifts from sharp to something softer. "That depends on you. On what you can actually do. Because right now, the entire court is trying to figure out if you're a gift or a threat."
"And which am I?" I ask.
"Both," Nova says simply. "Which is why I'm going to help you navigate this before you accidentally manifest something catastrophic."
I look at her—this scarred, fierce woman who's clearly intelligent and dangerous and somehow kind. "Why would you help me? You don't know me."
Nova's expression darkens slightly. "Because I know what it's like to be Offered. To have everyone you love throw you away like you're garbage. To have to survive on your own terms in a place that wants to own you." She reaches out and squeezes my hand. "And because the King has never looked at anyone the way he looked at you. Not once in the six months I've been here. So you're either the best thing that could happen to this world, or you're going to burn it down. Either way, I want to be on your side."
Something in me relaxes slightly. I have an ally. An actual friend who understands.
"Show me," Nova says. "Show me what you can actually do. The healer said you can manifest desires into reality."
I hesitate. "I'm not sure I can control it."
"Then we learn," Nova says firmly. "Come on. What do I want most right now?"
I activate my power carefully—a gentle pulse of golden light across my palms. I've gotten better at controlling it, but it's still terrifying. And when I look into Nova, I see:
A flower. Something beautiful from her childhood. Something from before the meteor strike. Something that reminds her she's human, not just a survivor.
Without fully understanding how I do it, I reach out and pull.
Energy flows from my hands, shapes itself, and blooms into existence: a white flower with delicate petals, exactly like the ones that grew in gardens before the world ended.
Nova's eyes widen, and tears actually form. She takes the flower with trembling hands, and for a moment, she's not fierce. She's just a woman remembering who she was before everything broke.
"You're not just special, Sera," Nova whispers. "You're dangerous. And valuable. Which means everyone in this Citadel is going to want something from you. Everyone is going to try to use you."
"Including the King?" I ask quietly.
Nova looks at me, and there's something knowing in her expression. "Especially the King. But at least he's honest about wanting you. Everyone else will lie."
A sound interrupts us—a alert bell ringing through the Citadel. Once. Twice. Three times.
Nova's head snaps up, and her entire body goes rigid. "That's the security alert. High level."
The chamber door suddenly opens—Zhal'kara stands in the frame, her expression grave.
"Sera," she says urgently. "You need to come with me. Now."
"What's happening?" I ask, standing.
"Your father," Zhal'kara says. "The Ashford delegation has arrived, and they're making demands. But that's not the problem."
"What is the problem?" I press.
Zhal'kara's eyes meet mine, and I've never seen fear in a healer before.
"We've detected something on our surveillance systems. A ship. Human-made, but modified with technology that shouldn't exist. It arrived an hour ago, and it's descending toward the Citadel's outer perimeter."
"What does that mean?" Nova asks, but I already know.
"It means," Zhal'kara says carefully, "that your family brought more than diplomats, Sera. They brought soldiers. Advanced soldiers. And according to our scans, the ship is carrying something else."
"What?" I demand.
"A weapon," Zhal'kara whispers. "Something that neutralizes mutant biology. Something designed to kill our kind. And the readings suggest it's designed specifically to kill beings with your power signature."
The world stops.
"They're not here to negotiate," I realize. "They're here to capture me. Or kill me."
"Both," Zhal'kara confirms. "Your father knows what you are now. And he's decided you're either going to serve his purposes, or you're going to die before you become a threat to his power."
My golden light flares involuntarily—fear and rage mixing into something dangerous.
"Kael'thor is preparing for war," Zhal'kara continues. "But Sera, if your father has that weapon, many mutants will die trying to protect you. Many of your people will die."
The weight of that crashes down on me.
"My people?" I ask bitterly. "They threw me away."
"But they're still human," Nova says quietly. "And they're still dying because of your power."
The door opens again, and Draeven enters—the scarred warrior mutant. His four arms flex, and his golden eyes burn with the intensity of someone ready for battle.
"The King needs you," he says simply. "The war council is gathering. Your presence is required."
But before I can move, Zhal'kara steps forward and pulls up my sleeve. On my arm, beneath the bronze symbols, something is happening. New markings are appearing—glowing brighter, spreading like a disease of pure power.
"What is that?" I whisper.
"That," Zhal'kara says with absolute certainty, "is the Catalyst's mark fully activating. Which means your power isn't just awakening anymore."
"It's calling," she finishes. "Calling to something else. Something ancient. Something that's been waiting two hundred years for you to return."
"Calling to what?" I demand.
Zhal'kara meets my eyes, and in them I see the answer before she speaks it:
"The original bond. The one from before the war. The one that tied you to Kael'thor's bloodline when you were queen and he was prince. The bond is remembering itself. The bond is reforming. And when it completes—"
A new voice cuts through the chamber.
"When it completes," Kael'thor says, stepping from the shadows where he's apparently been listening the entire time, "the treaty becomes binding. Not just between us, but between all our peoples. Your father understands that. Which is why he's willing to destroy you rather than let that bond complete."
His four eyes lock on mine, and I see it now—the weight of destiny he's been carrying. The reason he claimed me so fiercely. The reason he can't let me go.
"You're not just my guest," Kael'thor says quietly. "You're my intended. And once the bond completes, the war between our species ends. Forever."
"No pressure," Nova mutters.
But Kael'thor steps toward me, and his expression is absolute. "Your father is counting on you being afraid. On you choosing safety over fate."
He extends his hand.
"Choose differently, Sera."