Page 21

A s we approach the border, the wind stings fiercer.

Malachi’s wings stretch wide, gliding over the frigid air as if the storm whirling around us is a whisper instead of a warning. My hands tighten around the saddle straps, knuckles bone-white as I press my body into Kainen’s back. The air here is thinner, colder. It smells different—like long-dead flames and blood that never quite dried.

I didn’t know what to expect at the border, but it wasn’t this.

The ground below is scorched from some ancient war, burned black and lifeless. Rivers slice through the earth like open wounds. The trees stand brittle and skeletal. No sun breaks through the clouds—only a dim gray glow casting the entire world in ash.

“You see that?” Kainen yells over the wind, nodding toward the horizon. His voice vibrates through his back into my bones. “That wasteland? That’s Therion’s legacy.”

It’s silent. Maybe too silent.

“Is it always like this?” I lean in and ask against his ear.

He doesn’t answer. Not with words. His mouth sets in a grim line. One hand shifts on the reins.

Malachi growls, low and deep, and it shakes something in my chest. He senses it—what waits for us.

This boundary isn’t just a line on a map. It’s written in blood and bone. And we’re right on the edge of it.

Kainen stiffens. His eyes narrow, scanning the horizon. “We’re not alone.”

“What is it?” I ask, my voice barely audible.

He exhales slowly, controlled. “Nightfallen.”

That single word sends cold rushing down my spine.

“Hold on to me,” he says.

I don’t hesitate. Malachi dives sharply, wind howling past as I wrap my arms tighter around Kainen. My face buries against his back. We plummet into the heart of the storm.

The ground trembles the second we land.

Kainen dismounts in one fluid movement. His hands are already on my waist before I can slide down, setting me gently on the scorched earth like I’m something fragile. There’s no time to speak before he draws his blade—its whispering hiss sounds like a warning of its own.

Malachi growls again, wings fanning outward in a protective arc.

I look around.

Shadows move beyond the line of dead trees.

Figures take shape—nothing and everything at once. Made of dust and magic older than language. Bone and void.

Nightfallen.

Their eyes glow silver, molten and searing. They step out of the fog, horrors dragged from forgotten nightmares. One slinks forward, humanoid but wrong—its limbs stretched unnaturally long, joints bending in places that shouldn’t exist.

“She shouldn’t be here,” it hisses. Its voice scrapes across my mind like broken glass.

My blood runs cold.

“She belongs to no one,” Kainen growls.

Then he moves.

I don’t even see it happen—just a blur and the sound of metal slicing through air. His blade severs the creature’s throat in one clean sweep. It crumples with a shriek, dissolving into black mist.

More are coming.

Dozens. Maybe more.

The air fills with a high-pitched wail, something between a scream and a song. It vibrates in my bones.

Kainen steps in front of me, his body a shield of steel and heat. Power radiates from him in pulses of darkness and light. His voice is calm, controlled. “Stay behind me.”

Fear climbs my throat like thorns, but I want to be brave.

“What do I do?” I whisper.

He glances over his shoulder. “You breathe. You stay alive. And you don’t look away.”

Then he launches into them like a storm unleashed.

Every strike is precise. Brutal. Beautiful. He moves like a blade made flesh—his blade a blur, cutting through the Nightfallen like ink through water. Tar-like blood sprays across the charred ground. It smells like rot and cold.

Malachi joins in from above, fire carving wide arcs across the earth, burning everything too close.

And me?

I stand frozen. My heart hammering. My lungs barely keeping up.

Then one of them gets past.

It moves too fast—I barely see it. It leaps for me, claws outstretched, mouth unhinging into rows of serrated teeth.

I scream.

“Selene!” Kainen shouts.

But before the creature touches me, it bursts into a thousand shards of light. I blink.

My hand is raised.

There’s a pulse in my chest. Something ancient. Magic. Mine.

Kainen turns to me, expression unreadable, eyes full of questions—and something else.

“You felt that too?” I whisper.

He nods once, eyes never leaving mine. “It’s awakening. Whatever it is inside you.”

Before I can process, another wave of Nightfallen surges from the fog.

Kainen reaches for me. “We run,” he says. “To the Mirror Hall.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s where your truth begins. And ends.”

I follow him, even as the earth burns behind us.

We run.

Or try to.

The ground crumbles beneath our feet, ash swirling like snow. Malachi circles above, roaring fire into the darkness, covering our retreat. Kainen never lets go of my hand. Never slows.

“They’re not retreating,” I pant.

“They’re not supposed to,” he answers darkly. “You’re being tested.”

“Me?”

He glances back. “They’ve never come this far beyond the border. Not even for me.”

I stumble, but don’t fall. Not this time.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re no longer a pawn, Selene.” He pulls me closer. “You’re the prize.”

We reach an ancient stone wall, half-buried in ash and tangled vines. A crumbling tower looms beyond it—the Mirror Hall.

Or what’s left of it.

Kainen places a hand on the stone. He murmurs something in a language I don’t recognize, but the sound resonates through me like a second heartbeat. The wall shimmers—then splits open to reveal a doorway glowing faintly silver.

“Inside,” he says. “Now.”

I step through and cross into another world.

The air thickens. Heavy. Charged.

Inside, the hall is a dome of black stone, obsidian walls etched with runes. The floor veins with glowing red and silver, like lava frozen mid-motion. And at the center—taller than Malachi’s wingspan—is a mirror framed in gold and bone.

The glass isn’t glass. It swirls with stars and stormlight. Liquid sky.

It hums when I draw near.

“Do you recognize it?” Kainen asks, voice quieter now.

I shake my head. “No. But it feels like I should.”

He steps closer. “It’s one of the last. One of the original gates from before the fall of the Bloodborne. It only opens for a reason—or for someone.”

I stare into the shifting surface. My reflection ripples—twisting. A child. A girl with silver eyes. A woman cloaked in flame. A queen.

My breath stutters. “What is this place?”

“Where you’ll find your answers,” Kainen says. “Or your ghosts.”

The air grows colder.

“You knew we’d come here.”

“I hoped we wouldn’t have to.” He moves closer. “But the Nightfallen followed us for a reason. Something inside you woke the moment you came through your mirror.”

His fingers trace my jaw, gentle despite the storm outside. “You’re not protected. Not by me. Not from them. And not from the truth.”

I meet his eyes. “Then show me.”

He hesitates, jaw clenched. “Once you step through, there’s no going back. You’ll remember things that hurt. See things that break you. But you’ll finally understand.”

“Understand what?” I whisper. “That I’m here by the gods?”

“No.” His voice hardens. “By blood.”

The mirror pulses.

The Hall of Mirrors is nothing like I imagined.

It’s not opulent. It’s quiet. Sacred. Rows of silver-glass archways stretch into shadow, their frames humming with an ancient pulse that makes the air feel alive. Like the mirrors are watching. Listening.

Newt said the mirrors show what’s needed—not what’s wanted.

I hesitate before the tallest one, a mirror cracked at the edges but still whole in the center. My reflection stares back at me, eyes shadowed, heart heavy.

Then the glass ripples.

And pulls me in.

The cold hits first. Then the light. I blink into a memory not mine.

Two boys—one dark-haired, fierce-eyed, laughing as they chase fireflies through a moonlit glade. Kainen and… Therion.

But not as they are now. Kainen is unscarred. No tattoos over his golden brown skin. They wear simple tunics, not armor, and there’s no crown between them yet. Only bond. By blood.

“I’ll always have your back,” Therion says, his hand clasping Kainen’s shoulder. “Even when you hate me for it.”

Kainen grins. “You couldn’t handle me hating you.”

Time lurches forward.

Now they're older—near the age they are now. Standing in a war chamber, voices sharp, eyes tired. Kainen’s armor is scorched. Therion’s is gleaming.

“You promised I’d rule and you would be by my side together,” Kainen snarls. “And now you wear the crown alone.”

Therion’s voice is ice. “Because you're not a true Valtori. You're my father's bastared son. He betrayed both of us.”

“I would have let you rule with me once I married,” Kainen spits.

“You think I would sit back and let you,” Therion snarls.

The room burns away.

I stumble backward, gasping, as the mirror’s hold loosens. My knees hit the floor. They were brothers in more than blood. They were fire and ice, bonded and broken by love—and betrayal.

And she was between them.

Who was she?

Why do I feel like I already know?

The mirror doesn't answer.

But the fire in my chest flickers like it remembers.

Malachi roars outside.

“They’re coming,” Kainen says.

I take his hand. “We have to leave.”