The silence between Seraphina and her father stretched like a drawn bow.
Kael stood across from her, the wind in the chamber swirling around them, carrying the faint scent of old blood, stone, and lavender. His face was unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes held a thousand emotions that could not be spoken in the tongue of men or monsters.
Seraphina's breath came slow. Measured. The walls of the chamber—if one could call this carved mountain space a room—shimmered with faint silver glyphs that pulsed like a heartbeat. She knew what this was. The third trial.
"You're not here to guide me through this, are you?" she asked quietly.
Kael's jaw tightened. "No. This trial is yours alone."
She nodded, her gaze dropping. But Kael stepped forward, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, his touch lingering for just a second too long.
"But I'm proud of you, little flame," he said softly. "More than you know."
Her throat tightened. "You watched me suffer. All those years. And said nothing."
Kael's expression faltered. "To protect you."
"You think hiding truth is protection?" Her voice cracked.
"Sometimes it's survival."
Silence again.
Then the glyphs flared, and the mountain itself groaned as the stone beneath her feet cracked open. Seraphina stumbled back. Her father caught her, but the moment their hands touched, the floor swallowed her whole in a blinding flash of white.
—
She landed hard on her knees.
But the pain wasn't physical.
Around her, nothing but fog. A void where time and space had no meaning. And then, footsteps. Slow. Echoing.
Seraphina rose.
From the mist stepped another version of her—dressed in white, eyes hollow, hands outstretched.
"I am who you could have been," the shade whispered. "Had you stayed hidden. Had you been safe."
Seraphina's breath caught. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because you fear becoming me."
The ground beneath her cracked again.
Another version appeared—this one drenched in blood, with claws out and fangs bared, flames licking at her feet.
"And I," this new self hissed, "am who you may yet become. A weapon. A destroyer. Loved by none. Betrayed by all."
The first self spoke again: "One is silence. One is ruin. You must choose."
Seraphina's heart thundered. "I choose neither."
But the ground shattered once more.
This time, she fell not into a pit, but into memory.
She stood in Eryn's old room. The scent of herbs and ink lingered. The bed was still warm. Eryn's laughter echoed faintly.
Then the room bled away into cold snow.
She saw the altar. The night of her birth. The look in Kael's eyes as he held her. The shadows whispering: "Two bloods cannot coexist."
And then… Vael.
His eyes, filled with pain. The way he had looked at her before the first trial. Torn. Distant. Knowing.
A new voice echoed: "You are the bridge. The bond. The breaking."
She stumbled back. "Stop!"
The world cracked around her, and the trial took shape.
A field.
A sword.
A mirror.
The voice returned: "The third trial is the Trial of the Self. Choose your reflection. Claim your path."
Seraphina walked to the sword first. Its hilt was carved with the same sigil as her mark—the crescent and falling stars.
She lifted it.
It was light.
And yet… heavy.
When she turned to the mirror, her reflection was not alone. It shifted. Showed her all the lives she might live:
— Seraphina as a queen, veiled in power but haunted.
— Seraphina as a rogue, untethered and wild.
— Seraphina dead, laid out on the battlefield.
And then…
— Seraphina holding a child. Standing beside both Kael and Vael. Whole.
She raised her blade.
And smashed the mirror.
"I will make my own fate," she declared. "Not theirs. Not yours. Mine."
Light exploded from the broken glass.
The voice whispered, softer now, almost proud: "Then you have passed."
—
When Seraphina opened her eyes, she was lying on the floor, sweat clinging to her skin, gasping like she had surfaced from drowning.
Kael knelt beside her. But his eyes weren't on her—they were on something beyond her.
Vael.
He stood at the chamber's edge, breathless, eyes wide. She could feel it.
Her mark pulsed.
He had felt her transformation. The breaking and remaking of her soul. The bond between them had stirred—rekindled.
Kael stood slowly. "You felt it."
Vael nodded. His voice was hoarse. "She's changed."
"Yes," Kael said softly. "She chose herself."
Vael's eyes flicked to Seraphina. There was longing. Guilt. And a whisper of hope.
Seraphina rose unsteadily.
She met Vael's gaze. For once, she didn't flinch.
"You left me," she said.
He swallowed. "Because I knew what I would become. What I'd have to do."
Her heart beat faster. The prophecy's words burned in her memory.
A mate will wound.
She took a step closer. "Then don't become that."
Vael looked away. "It's not that simple."
Kael placed a hand on Seraphina's shoulder.
"The path ahead will break you further. But you have strength even I did not. Remember that."
She nodded. Tears threatened, but she held them back.
She had passed the third trial.
But the hardest part still lay ahead.
Not war.
Not prophecy.
But choice.
—
That night, Seraphina sat beside a fire carved into the heart of the mountain. The flames danced with memories.
She watched them in silence, until a shadow joined her.
Vael.
He sat, a distance between them, but the bond hummed.
"I'm sorry," he said. No more excuses.
She didn't reply. Not yet.
Instead, she reached for the sword she'd claimed in the trial. Ran her fingers over the sigil.
"The war is not the only battle," she murmured. "Sometimes, it's the ones inside us that matter more."
Vael stared into the fire. "Then we fight them. Together."
She looked at him. Saw the truth in his eyes.
The wound he would become might also be the healing.
Her story wasn't done.
But tonight, she had found herself.
And that was enough.