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I used to believe in the gods. I knew we came from them—created by their very own hands.

But I now know what they are capable of.

They do not wish to help us or protect us.

They wish to spill our blood for their amusement.

I have seen how He has tried whispering in Hadrian’s ear. We are no longer safe from them.

I stopped praying long ago.

Tabitha Wysteria

The Temple of Deadly Shadows crowned the highest hill, a silent guardian over the Kingdom of Darkness.

Unlike the grand temples of other lands, it was humble, a testament to the priestesses who shunned vanity.

Wyverians revered their gods in the quiet of daily devotion, offering respect rather than spectacle.

Mal had always found solace here. The same could not be said for Kai.

Her brother, for all his strength and defiance, had never been able to mask the way his skin prickled at the sight of the priestesses, their quiet knowing eyes unsettling him.

And yet, he followed her, always, never allowing her to make these pilgrimages alone.

There were no towering altars here, no golden idols to honour the divine—just a single leafless tree, its gnarled branches stretching towards the sky like skeletal fingers. The gods had planted it at the dawn of their world, and it had stood, unwavering, ever since.

It was there that Kai found Mal, kneeling at its roots, her forehead pressed against the earth.

The temple, only a few steps away, was modest yet exquisite. Polished stone columns lined its entrance, glistening obsidian beneath the pale light. But Mal was outside, her hands buried deep in the soil, whispering prayers older than time itself.

Kai leaned lazily against one of the columns, a blackened apple twirling in his grip, half-eaten.

‘You’ll get into trouble for eating that,’ Mal said, her voice quiet yet firm. ‘Food is only to be brought as an offering.’

Kai rolled his eyes, unbothered. ‘I’m trembling.’

She lifted her head, fixing him with a pointed glare over her shoulder, those unearthly purple eyes catching the dim light. He smirked but said nothing more. Mal exhaled, shaking her head, and returned to her task.

Her fingers pressed into the damp earth, planting a single pear into the shallow grave she had dug. Covering it with soil, she whispered, ‘Deadly Gods, listen to my prayers. Protect me. Guide me along the path you have set.’

Kai bit into his apple just as she placed two fingers to her forehead, then pressed them gently against the white bark of the sacred tree. Rising, she turned to him swiftly, snatching the apple from his grip.

‘You cannot eat in the temple.’

Kai let out a dramatic sigh. ‘I will never understand the gods and their endless rules. Nor will I understand why you continue to pray when they so clearly refuse to answer.’

Mal strode past him, stepping into the temple’s entrance. Though its design was simple, to her, it was the most beautiful place in the world. Vines of ashen black and ghostly white flowers curled along the bare stone walls, their muted tones softening the sharpness of the architecture.

At its centre burnt a pit of eternal blue fire, a sacred gift from the shadow wyvern—a beast that had not been seen in ages untold.

Legends claimed it had been the shadow of the very first wyverian king, a spirit of darkness given form.

Since then, no other royal had ever been blessed with such a companion.

Mal stared into the flame, her thoughts lost in its flickering depths.

‘We do not pray to demand,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘We pray for hope.’

Kai remained unimpressed. ‘And what do you hope for?’

Mal ignored his question. ‘I suppose you’ve already heard what’s to happen to me.’

The warmth left Kai’s expression in an instant. ‘I won’t allow it.’

Mal turned to him, his dark eyes burning with quiet fury.

‘You cannot stop this from happening, Kai. The King has spoken—’

‘The King,’ he interrupted, as his fingers brushed the curved horns atop her head, pushing playfully against them as he had when they were children, but his grin did not meet his eyes, ‘is our father. Which means he can be persuaded.’

‘But I cannot.’

Kai stilled. ‘This isn’t your responsibility.’ His voice dropped lower, rougher. ‘Our kingdoms can unite without you being sacrificed.’

‘Kai…’

‘No, Mal.’ He shook his head. ‘I will not allow you to marry the Fire Prick just because some silly whispers of witches are keeping our father awake at night.’

Mal smiled, despite herself. He was magnificent, this brother of hers. Fierce, protective, willing to fight the world for her. She took his hands in hers, squeezing them softly.

‘I love you, Kai. But if my marriage can help our kingdoms… maybe this is what the gods have chosen for me.’ Kai clenched his jaw, but she continued.

‘The Kingdom of Fire and the Kingdom of Darkness have never fought as one. Not truly. If they are to trust each other, then they must see a royal willing to step forward, to bridge the divide.’

‘And what if they never trust you? What if they see you as the enemy instead?’

Mal turned away. She already knew how the people of her own kingdom looked at her—the way their eyes lingered too long, the hushed words that drifted behind her like ghosts. She was fourthborn, an anomaly, a child with cursed eyes who had never truly belonged.

Maybe this was why she had been born at all.

Maybe this was her purpose.

‘So that’s it?’ Kai exhaled, his voice quiet now. ‘You believe you were born just to be a wife? To be his wife?’

Mal turned back to him, something new in her gaze—something fierce.

‘No, Kai. Not a wife.’

The temple fire cast a halo of blue light against her silhouette, the shadow of her horns stretching long across the stone.

‘A queen.’

For a long time, Kai simply stared. Then, after a long exhale, he whispered, ‘So you’ve made up your mind.’

Mal parted her lips to reply, but the wind—soft yet insistent—shifted, carrying with it the quiet rustle of robes gliding over stone. She knew before she turned. The priestesses had arrived.

Kai stiffened beside her, his body taut with unease.

He had never been able to hide his discomfort in their presence, and though Mal understood why—their sightless gazes, their ghost-like steps, the weight of the divine pressing down upon them—she had never feared them.

Here, beneath the unblinking eyes of the gods, she had always felt at home.

The priestesses moved like mist, their long grey robes folding around them like second skins, obscuring even the whisper of their footfalls.

They wore no silver nor jewels, no embellishments save for the sacred cloth bound over their eyes— a strip of fabric cut from their very robes by the holy blade upon their initiation.

To see was to stray from faith.

By day, they wandered blind, their hands forever outstretched to the unseen, waiting for the gods to answer.

But at night, when the moon bled crimson and painted the sky in scarlet streaks, the fabric was lifted, and their unveiled eyes—terrible and wise—became the only light within the darkness of the temple.

The High Priestess stepped forward, her voice smooth as water, yet layered with something deeper, something ancient that came from the very bones of the mountain itself.

‘Princess.’

Mal dipped her head in respect, letting her gaze rake over the priestess’s figure—tall, draped in shadow, as if woven from twilight itself. They were terrifying in their way, untouched by mortal desires, tethered only to the whispers of gods.

Once, Mal had dreamt of becoming one of them.

Then she had learnt the cost.

To become a priestess was to forsake the skies.

‘We listen to the gods, but we may not reach them,’ the High Priestess had told her long ago. ‘Our duty is bound to the earth, to guide those who wish to listen but cannot hear. That is why we may not ride wyverns.’

And Mal had known then that she could never be one of them.

‘High Priestess,’ she said in greeting. ‘I have come for my daily prayer.’

‘Come, child.’ The High Priestess turned, already drifting towards the temple, her dismissal of Kai as natural as breathing.

‘Your father came to us this morning. He has spoken of your decision. There is much to discuss before you journey beyond our borders—before you step into the Kingdom of Fire.’

Behind her, Kai stirred, his voice thick with something raw.

‘Mal.’

The plea in her name cut deeper than any blade.

‘Come back to the castle with me. We will find another way, a better one. I promise.’

Mal exhaled, the weight of his words pressing against her ribs. There was a part of her—a part still fragile, still yearning—that wanted to be saved. That wanted to collapse into her brother’s arms and let him bear the burden, let him make it all disappear.

But then there was the other part.

The part of her that had been born wrong, that had grown up haunted by the whispers of her own existence. The part of her that ached to prove she was something more than a mistake, something more than the cursed child.

Because if she—a princess with cursed eyes, a girl who should have never been—could be the one to save them all…

Then maybe—just maybe—she would not be the monster she had always feared she was.

With slow, deliberate movements, Mal turned to her brother.

She bowed.

And then, without another word, she stepped into the waiting shadows of the temple.