The Depths

The air hit her first. Cold. Like a void.

The next thing Alya knew, she was on the ground, chest heaving. Her body screamed with pain from the fall, but she couldn’t afford to think about it. She pushed herself up, the darkness around her nearly absolute, but something else—something—was pulling her forward. A glow.

Not from the ceiling. From the walls.

Runes, etched into the stone, pulsed faintly in the dark. The glow matched the same eerie, silver shimmer that had come from her ring. Alya staggered toward it, her instincts demanding that she follow the light.

And there, in the center of the chamber, was the truth.

A colossal stone altar.

A circle of symbols burned into the floor, ancient and foreboding. But it wasn’t the altar that made her heart drop into her stomach.

It was the body.

Frozen in stone.

A man. His face… familiar. Too familiar.

Alya’s throat tightened. The stone figure had his eyes closed, but there was no mistaking him.

It was Cael.

But how?

The runes flared brighter, the pull from her ring intensifying. In the distance, the sound of footsteps echoed through the darkness. Lucien.

“Don’t touch it,” he warned from behind her.

But it was too late.

Her fingers brushed the stone.

And the world exploded into light.

~~~~~

The light was blinding.

Alya squeezed her eyes shut as the power from the altar surged through her. It felt like the pulse of the universe itself—a thousand years of magic, of blood, of truth that had been hidden in the shadows for far too long. The runes on the ground burned brighter, reaching up her legs, her chest, into her heart.

And then—

The scream.

It wasn’t hers.

It was Cael’s.

Her eyes snapped open, and for a fraction of a second, everything stood still.

A figure—a shadow—ripped itself from the stone where Cael had once stood, the stone breaking apart as if it were nothing more than dust. A man, but not a man. The very air around him seemed to recoil, the temperature dropping so fast her breath turned to mist. His skin was silver, etched with veins of darkness that pulsed like blood. His eyes… those red eyes—alive.

And then he smiled.

But it wasn’t Cael’s smile.

Not anymore.

“You’ve woken me,” the creature hissed. His voice was like gravel scraping against metal. “Now, the blood must flow.”

The ring on Alya’s finger flared—and in that instant, the memories came crashing down on her. Not just memories of a past life, but of the bloodline. The truth of the curse.

Of how he had once been her king, and how she—they—had been bound by fate, by betrayal.

And the creature before her… the one who had shattered Cael’s form and took his place…

He was the source of it all.

Lucien’s sword shot out. “Alya, move!”

But it was too late.

The creature—the King—raised his hand, and the air around them tore.

The force of it sent Lucien sprawling backward. Alya’s ring began to hum, louder now, as if it were in harmony with the curse itself.

“Cael…?” Alya whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar of magic. “What are you?”

The creature—no longer Cael—slowly stepped forward, each movement inhumanly smooth, like something that had not truly walked this world in centuries.

“I am the true heir,” he said, eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her bones ache. “Not you. And not him. I was the first bloodline. Before the curse. Before this… pathetic charade.”

Lucien scrambled to his feet, his voice low and warning. “Get away from her!”

But Alya didn’t move. Something inside her—the ring—was calling to her.

“You were the one who cursed me,” she said, suddenly realizing. The pieces clicked. “You were the one who trapped me. Who betrayed me.”

The King’s eyes flashed with a cold fury. “Yes, I did. I did it to save you.”

“To save me?” Alya’s mind reeled. “From what?”

“The world,” he spat. “From what I became. What I was.”

The ground beneath her feet cracked open, and a swirling vortex of dark power erupted from the altar. Alya was caught in its pull—being drawn into the depths.

The King extended his hand toward her.

“I will remake the world,” he growled, a cruel smile forming on his lips. “With you, Alya Roth. You will be my queen again.”

But then, something snapped in Alya’s chest.

The ring.

Her pulse.

Her blood.

“I’m not yours,” she said, her voice steady. “Not anymore.”

The King’s face contorted with rage. “You are mine!”

Alya thrust her hand toward him. The ring flared—and with a deafening crash, the dark vortex collapsed inward, swallowing the King’s power in one final, violent burst of light.

And everything went silent.

~~~~~~

Alya lay on the ground, trembling, the taste of blood in her mouth. Her breath was ragged, her vision blurred. But the world around her—the curse—had disappeared.

The King? Gone.

The darkness? Gone.

Lucien was beside her in an instant, his hand on her shoulder. “Alya…”

She gasped for air, looking up at him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and for the first time since she’d found the mansion, she felt… free.

“Did I…?” she started, her voice weak.

“You did,” Lucien said, his eyes dark and proud. “You ended it.”

Alya closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath. But then—something felt wrong.

She stood up, swaying, as the realization hit her like a hammer.

She could feel it now—inside her. A presence. Not the King. Not the curse.

But her own power.

Her blood. Her true heritage.

She turned to Lucien. “It’s not over, is it?”

His eyes met hers, sadness flickering in them. “No. The curse has been broken. But you’ll never be just a human again. You’re not just the heir. You’re the true bloodline. The one who was always meant to rule.”

Alya stepped back, her hands trembling. “Then what am I?”

Lucien reached out to steady her. “You’re free… for now. But there will always be others who will come for your blood. There will always be those who want to control you.”

Alya glanced around the ruined altar, the echoes of the King’s dark presence still lingering in the air.

“I’ll be ready,” she said softly.

She didn’t know exactly what the future held, but she knew this:

The past was never truly gone.

And now, neither was she.