The Citadel was not quiet at night. Not truly.
Though torches flickered low and the courtyards dimmed, the halls were filled with whispers—too soft to echo, but too sharp to ignore. Footsteps moved like ghosts. Scrolls changed hands in the shadows. And in the upper chamber of the council, where power should have rested, it stirred like a nest of vipers.
"Seris cannot be trusted," murmured Lord Imros, his rings clinking as he poured wine into his goblet. "She is too bold, too powerful… and far too beloved."
"And Kael?" Veira asked, leaning back into her chair, lips curling around the stem of her glass. "He follows her like a dog—but fights like a demon. They've already become a legend."
"That's the problem," Chancellor Rhemar growled. "Legends inspire revolution."
He placed a sealed letter on the table. The wax bore a foreign crest—a chained serpent coiled around a broken star.
"From the East," he said. "They've heard rumors of Seris's resurrection… and are offering their assistance in containing her before the realm falls under her influence."
Veira raised an elegant brow. "Contain her? Or destroy her?"
Rhemar only smiled.
---
Elsewhere in the Citadel – The Tower Room
The moon cast a pale light through the silk-draped windows, bathing the stone walls in silver. Seris stood barefoot before the mirror, her robe loosely tied at the waist, hair still damp from the bath. She traced the fading burn marks along her collarbone—scars from the void creature's final strike. The skin had healed, but her soul… still smoldered.
Kael entered quietly, carrying a tray with bread, fruit, and a bottle of dark wine. He wore only a tunic, the laces undone, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the faint white mark where a sword had nearly ended him weeks ago.
"You're still awake," he said softly, setting the tray down.
"So are you," she replied, without turning.
Kael walked up behind her and rested his hands gently on her shoulders. They stood in silence a moment—no words needed. His fingers brushed along the edges of her scar, and she leaned into his touch, letting out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"I keep waiting for this to feel like peace," she whispered.
"It never does," he said. "But we can still have moments of it."
She turned, meeting his eyes.
"Then give me one," she said.
He didn't hesitate.
Their kiss was not gentle—it was needful, urgent, years of longing from lives both past and present bleeding through their lips. Her robe slipped to the floor with a whisper. His tunic followed. Skin to skin, they stumbled toward the bed, the world falling away with every touch.
Kael's mouth found the hollow of her throat, the curve of her breast, his hands worshipping the strength in her muscles, the softness in her waist. Seris wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer—not just to feel him, but to anchor herself in something real. Something human.
They moved as one—fierce and tender, fire and storm—until the night wrapped around them like silk and the only sound left was their shared breath.
After, they lay tangled together, her head on his chest, fingers tracing the old burn mark at his ribs.
"Do you ever think about them?" she asked.
"The ones we lost?"
She nodded.
"Every day," Kael said. "But I think… this time, we might win."
Seris didn't speak. She only closed her eyes and let his warmth hold her together.
---
At the Eastern Border – Midnight
A ship arrived under no flag.
It docked silently, its sails soaked in night, and its crew masked in crimson. A robed figure stepped off, carrying a scroll sealed in black wax.
The message was simple:
> "Offer her peace—or provoke war. The serpent coils beneath your throne."
---
Back in the Citadel – The Next Morning
Councilwoman Veira stood before the high mirror, adjusting her jeweled collar. Behind her, a shadow emerged.
"You've read the letter?" she asked.
Rhemar nodded grimly. "They fear her as much as we do."
"Then perhaps it's time we stop watching from shadows and start pulling strings."
Veira turned, her reflection gleaming like steel.
"She is powerful, yes," she said. "But power means nothing without trust. And I intend to poison hers."
Rhemar's lips curled.
---