Chapter 35

The moon carved a silver path through the canopy as Serenya pushed through the thickets, Kaelen close at her heels. The night smelled of damp earth and old moss, the kind that clung to forgotten ruins. She clutched the scroll Maelis had given her, its parchment edges frayed, its symbols glowing faintly under the lunar light.

“This is madness,” Kaelen murmured, his voice a low rasp. “We’re walking into a place even the Seer herself warned us about.”

“Then why give me the map?” Serenya whispered, her heart pounding as branches clawed at her sleeves. “She said answers lie here—answers about who I am, about why the crown chose me.”

Kaelen’s silence was heavier than his words. He had always been her shadow, her sword, her quiet protector. Yet tonight, she could feel his doubt pressing on her as sharply as the cold steel at his hip.

A sudden gust of wind rattled through the forest, bending branches until they groaned. The ground beneath them trembled, and with it came a low hum, like the song of the earth itself. Serenya froze.

“There,” she whispered. “It’s calling us.”

Before them, shrouded by vines thick as rope, stood the crumbling arch of a forgotten temple. Its stones were etched with sigils that pulsed faintly, like embers refusing to die.

Kaelen’s hand went to his blade. “It’s older than the kingdom itself. These ruins belonged to a people who vanished long before we were born. What if they wanted it buried?”

“Or what if they wanted it found?” Serenya stepped forward, her palm brushing against the stone. Heat flared under her touch, and the sigils burned brighter. The archway groaned as if waking from centuries of slumber.

The vines shriveled, curling back to reveal a doorway yawning open, breathing out a rush of cold air that smelled of dust and secrets.

Kaelen caught her wrist. “Serenya. Once we step inside, there may be no turning back.”

Her eyes met his, steady and unyielding. “I’ve been turning back my entire life. No more.”

Together, they crossed the threshold.

Inside, the temple stretched vast and endless, its walls lined with murals faded by time. Shadows flickered across carvings of crowned figures, winged beasts, and battles fought beneath eclipsed moons. The ceiling soared so high it vanished into darkness.

Serenya’s footsteps echoed as she trailed her fingers across one of the murals. “These symbols—they match the scroll.”

Kaelen’s gaze followed hers. “And that crown,” he pointed to a carved figure at the mural’s center, “it looks exactly like the circlet hidden in the vaults of Crestfall.”

Her breath caught. “You mean the crown Thalric seeks.”

Kaelen’s jaw clenched. “If he finds this place…”

“He can’t,” Serenya said fiercely. “We can’t let him.”

But even as she said it, a gnawing unease coiled in her chest. The murals seemed to watch her, their painted eyes glinting with something like recognition.

At the far end of the hall, an altar stood, carved from black stone veined with silver. Upon it rested a crystal orb, glowing faintly, like a star captured in glass.

Serenya stepped closer. The glow intensified, casting her face in pale light. Her reflection shimmered on the orb’s surface—except it wasn’t her.

The woman staring back wore the same auburn hair, the same storm-gray eyes, but she was crowned and cloaked in shadows, her gaze burning with fire.

Serenya stumbled back. “Did you see that?”

Kaelen drew his blade, the steel singing. “What did you see?”

“Myself,” she whispered, trembling. “But not… me. A queen. A queen of shadows.”

As if in answer, the orb pulsed, and the temple walls shuddered. Dust rained from above. From the shadows beyond the altar, a figure emerged.

Cyrion Duskbane.

His eyes gleamed with cold fire as he stepped into the light. “So,” he drawled, “the heiress finally finds her way to the truth.”

Serenya’s blood froze. “How did you—”

“You think Maelis gave you that map by chance?” His smirk was bitter, sharp. “No, little heiress. Every step you’ve taken, every secret you’ve uncovered, was meant to lead you here.”

Kaelen raised his blade. “Stay back.”

But Cyrion ignored him, his gaze fixed on Serenya. “Do you feel it? The bond between your blood and this place? This temple was built for the crown-bearer. For you. But power like this,” his eyes flicked to the orb, “isn’t meant to be hoarded. It’s meant to be shared.”

“Shared?” Serenya spat. “Or stolen?”

Cyrion’s smile widened. “Does it matter, when both roads end in war?”

He moved closer, the shadows clinging to him like living things. “Join me, Serenya. Together, we can awaken what sleeps beneath this temple. We can reshape this kingdom into something stronger—something eternal.”

Her pulse raced. His words stirred something deep within her, a hunger she hadn’t known she carried. The thought of claiming her throne, not as the fragile girl in hiding but as the queen of shadows, tugged at her soul.

But then her gaze flicked to Kaelen. His jaw was set, his eyes burning with quiet faith in her.

She found her voice. “No, Cyrion. I won’t be your pawn.”

For the first time, Cyrion’s smirk faltered. His eyes hardened into ice. “Then you’ve chosen the losing side.”

The orb flared violently, light exploding across the temple. Murals cracked, stone splitting as ancient mechanisms roared to life. The ground heaved, and from beneath the altar, chains clattered and snapped.

Something vast stirred below.

Kaelen pulled Serenya back, shielding her as the floor split open. A gust of wind howled up from the depths, carrying with it a sound that was not human—a guttural, echoing roar.

Serenya’s eyes widened. “What did you awaken?”

Cyrion’s voice was a whisper, almost reverent. “The guardian of the crown. The beast that sleeps beneath the lost temple. Only the true heir can command it… or be destroyed by it.”

A claw, black as obsidian and larger than a man, gripped the altar’s edge. Another followed, dragging up a monstrous form, its eyes burning like molten gold.

The beast rose, wings unfurling, teeth glinting sharper than swords.

Serenya’s heart thundered as the temple shook around them. Kaelen’s hand tightened on his blade.

Cyrion’s gaze locked on her, triumphant. “Prove yourself, heiress. Either command it—or die in its jaws.”

The roar shook the heavens, dust cascading as the temple began to collapse.

Serenya stepped forward despite the terror clawing at her insides. Her voice broke but steadied with each word. “If this beast answers to the true heir… then it answers to me.”

The golden eyes fixed on her, ancient and unyielding.

Behind her, Kaelen shouted her name.

And as the monster bowed its head ever so slightly, Cyrion’s smug expression fractured into fury.

The temple walls cracked further, a deafening groan rising as if the earth itself were splitting apart.

Serenya lifted her chin. “I am Serenya Vale. Blood of shadows, heir of the crown. Obey me.”

The beast roared again—this time not in rage, but in recognition.

And then the floor gave way.