Chapter 14

Rain clung to the stone walls of Maelis Rowan’s tower, dripping through the moss and filling the silence with a steady rhythm. Serenya stood near the window, arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring at the storm-tossed horizon. The prophecy still rang in her ears—cryptic words that painted both promise and doom.

Kaelen lingered a few steps behind her, his presence steady but unreadable. He hadn’t spoken since they left the chamber where Maelis had delivered her vision. The tension between them grew heavy, a cord stretched too tight, threatening to snap with a single word.

Finally, Serenya turned, her eyes searching his.

“You heard it, didn’t you? She saw me—crowned and broken. Loved, yet destroyed. How am I supposed to carry both?”

Kaelen’s jaw clenched, his gaze flicking away as though afraid of what she’d read in his expression. “Prophecies are riddles, Serenya. They twist meaning until you see what you fear most. Do not chain yourself to words spoken in smoke and shadow.”

“And yet,” she whispered, stepping closer, “you believe them. I saw it in your face.”

His silence answered for him.

Before either could say more, the sound of boots echoed up the spiral staircase. Darian Crestfall appeared, rain dripping from his cloak, eyes sharp with urgency.

“You must both listen. What Maelis spoke tonight cannot leave this room.”

Serenya frowned. “Why? The prophecy concerns more than me—it touches the crown, the kingdoms, perhaps even the war to come.”

“All the more reason to remain silent,” Darian pressed. His hand brushed the hilt of his sword, a habitual motion. “If Thalric Veynor learns of this… if Eloria Thorne gains even a whisper of what the seer saw, you will not live to see the dawn.”

Kaelen stepped forward, his voice low but cutting. “And what do you suggest? That we pretend nothing was spoken? That we blind ourselves while danger closes in?”

“No,” Darian said firmly. “That we swear silence. No tongues but ours must carry this burden until the time is right.”

Serenya’s chest tightened. She knew Darian was right—rumors were poison, and prophecies even deadlier. But silence came with its own dangers. If they carried this knowledge alone, how long before it turned into mistrust between them?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the slow creak of the tower door. Isolde Mirean, the healer, slipped inside with an oil lamp. Her face was pale, her dark hair damp from the storm. She looked at each of them in turn, and Serenya knew immediately—she had overheard enough.

“The prophecy isn’t safe,” Isolde said softly, setting the lamp down. “I can feel its weight like chains on the air. If you silence it, it will fester. If you speak it, it will destroy. Either path is dangerous.”

Darian cursed under his breath. “Then the pact becomes all the more vital. No others must hear of this. Not Eloria, not Cyrion, not even the council.”

Kaelen moved closer to Serenya, his voice quieter now, meant only for her. “The prophecy spoke of choice, of love entwined with ruin. If we make this pact, Serenya, you must understand—our path is no longer entirely our own.”

Her breath caught. She understood the unspoken words. He was asking her to bury not only the prophecy, but perhaps their bond as well.

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the sound of the storm. Finally, Serenya lifted her chin. “Then let it be sworn. But on one condition—our silence must not mean surrender. When the time comes, we act. Together.”

Kaelen’s eyes softened, just briefly, before the mask of restraint returned. “Together,” he agreed.

Darian stepped forward, drawing his blade. He pricked his palm and let a drop of blood fall to the stone floor. “By steel and shadow, I swear silence.”

Serenya followed, biting her lip as she cut her hand. Her blood mingled with his, staining the stone. “By crown and fire, I swear silence.”

Kaelen’s hand lingered longer on the blade, his blood darker against the torchlight. “By shadow and vow, I swear silence.”

Isolde hesitated. She had not been asked to join, yet she stepped forward anyway, her voice trembling. “By healing and truth, I swear silence. For your sake—and ours.”

The pact was sealed. The chamber seemed to exhale, though the storm outside only grew fiercer.

But as the blood sank into the stone, Maelis’s voice drifted through the doorway. The seer had returned, eyes clouded with visions, her staff tapping against the floor.

“Fools,” she murmured, her voice both far and near. “You think silence will shield you? Secrets do not remain buried—they only rot. And rot spreads.”

Her words cracked like thunder, leaving the four of them staring at one another in unease.

Kaelen stepped forward, ready to demand answers, but Maelis was already gone, her footsteps vanishing into the storm.

Serenya’s heart pounded. For the first time, she wondered if silence itself would become the blade that cut them all.