Elara stood where Rowan had vanished into the trees.
The morning mist still clung to the branches, and the birds had yet to begin their song. Only silence remained, and the ghost of a goodbye etched into steel.
She traced her finger over the hilt of the blade he left behind.
When you choose, I'll come.
But what if the choosing destroyed them all?
Kael approached quietly, his shadows flickering like restless wolves around his shoulders. "He'll be back."
She didn't answer.
She couldn't.
Because a part of her wanted to run after Rowan. To tell him it had always been him. That the girl who watched stars fall beside him still breathed inside her.
But another part — the one alight with power and hunger and some aching, impossible tether — pulled her toward Kael.
"Whatever's waking in the ruins," Kael said, "it's not waiting."
Elara's throat tightened. "I saw myself, Kael. A child… a crown. Fire."
He stepped closer. "And you saw me in it."
"Yes." Her voice cracked. "But you were dark. You're the ruin, Kael."
He tilted his head. "Or the one who ends it."
Elara clenched her fists. "Why me?"
"Because you're not just a girl. You were born at the eclipse, under the Old Moon. Your blood carries both flame and shadow. You're a bridge."
"To what?"
He leaned in, voice low. "To gods who forgot how to die."
A chill traced her spine.
Because she believed him.
They descended into the crypt again that evening, this time into the deeper catacombs Rowan had mapped before he left. The mark on Elara's wrist pulsed stronger with each step — like a heart trying to beat outside her skin.
"This isn't just old magic," Kael murmured. "This is primordial."
Elara's breath fogged in the air. "I can feel it too. It's pulling me."
They reached a chamber sealed with seven symbols — fire, ice, blood, bone, storm, shadow, and moonlight. One by one, the runes on her wrist shimmered to match.
The door trembled.
Cracked.
And opened.
Inside was a room that didn't belong in this world.
The walls were alive, pulsing with veins of starlight and shadow. At the center stood a pedestal — and on it, a crystal sphere glowing blood-red.
Elara stepped forward, drawn.
"Wait," Kael hissed. "That's—"
She touched it.
And the sphere shattered.
Magic surged up her arm, through her chest, down her spine. The room spun. Screams echoed inside her skull — ancient voices, endless rage.
And then—nothing.
When she opened her eyes, Kael was staring at her like she'd grown wings.
"Elara…" he whispered. "Your eyes."
She ran to a cracked mirror on the wall.
Her pupils had turned silver.
Her hands shimmered with smoke.
"I can feel everything," she breathed. "All the runes. All the power. Like the world is made of strings and I can pluck each one."
Kael's jaw tightened. "This is what they wanted. To awaken you. That crystal… it was a seal. Not a gift."
"Then who sealed it?"
Kael hesitated.
"Elara," he said finally, "you did."
They made camp deeper in the ruins, too afraid to return to the surface until she could stabilize the storm now coursing through her veins. Kael kept guard while Elara sat, eyes closed, trying to silence the voices.
They wouldn't stop.
Whispers of ruin.
Promises of eternity.
And somewhere — a voice she recognized.
Rowan.
He was in danger.
She leapt up. "He's in the Vale. Surrounded."
Kael stood. "You're not strong enough."
She looked at him, fury and panic clashing in her chest. "He came with us. He risked everything. I won't let him die."
Kael cursed. "Then I'm coming too."
They reached the edge of the Vale by dawn.
Elara saw them first — the wraiths. Creatures made of bone and void, tearing through Rowan's arcane defenses as he stood, bleeding and half-conscious, in the ruins of a shield dome.
She didn't hesitate.
The new power in her surged forward.
Flame roared from her hands.
Shadow snapped into spears.
She tore through the wraiths like a god of war — a queen in flames, magic dancing at her fingertips, the air itself bending around her will.
Rowan collapsed.
Kael reached him first.
"He's alive," he said.
Elara dropped to her knees beside him, cradling his head. "Rowan—"
His eyes opened slowly.
And when they landed on her, something in him broke.
"Elara," he rasped. "You… you're not—"
"I'm still me," she whispered.
He reached up, bloodied hand brushing her cheek. "Then don't let them take you."
She kissed his hand.
"I won't."
That night, Rowan slept beneath Kael's shadows, protected by spells and runes Elara didn't fully understand yet. She sat outside the makeshift tent, eyes on the stars, the mark on her wrist now glowing without pause.
Kael joined her silently.
"He loves you," he said.
"I know."
"You could still choose him."
She turned to face him. "Would you let me?"
Kael's jaw clenched. "No."
She smiled sadly. "Didn't think so."
"But," he said, "I'd fight for you. Not just kill for you. Not just die. I'd fight to be worthy."
That stopped her.
He leaned closer, voice rough. "You make me want to be something more. Not for a throne. Not for prophecy. For you."
And this time, she didn't pull away.
She kissed him.
It was fire and fury and longing all at once.
He devoured her.
Pinned her.
Worshipped her.
Her back arched beneath his touch as he explored every curve, every sound she made, like a song he needed to memorize. Magic sparked beneath her skin — not destructive this time, but sacred.
When they collapsed together, panting, spent, trembling — Kael whispered, "You're mine."
And Elara whispered, "I never wasn't."
Rowan was gone in the morning.
Again.
But this time, he didn't leave a blade.
He left a single rune — carved into the stone beside her bedroll.
A broken heart.
"Elara," Kael said, returning from the northern passage, "they're coming."
She stood slowly. "How many?"
"Dozens. Maybe more. Creatures of void. They want what's inside you."
She looked down at her hands.
At the spark.
At the future.
"Then let them come."
Kael pulled her close. "When this ends…"
"It won't," she said. "Not really. But we end it together."
Kael smiled for the first time in days.
And in his eyes, she saw not ruin.
But hope.
Far beyond the crypt, Rowan stood at the cliff's edge.
In his hand was a rune Elara had carved once — a promise of forever.
He dropped it.
And turned away.
Back into the storm.