Chapter 51

Darkness pressed in like a tide. Serenya drifted through it, weightless, caught between voices that weren’t her own. They weren’t whispers now—they were echoes, deep and resonant, as though her very veins carried the memory of a thousand rulers before her.

Starborn blood cannot be broken.

Shadow cannot reign unless light accepts it.

Choose, child of crown and night. Choose what you are.

Her body jolted. Heat flooded her chest, racing down her arms until her fingers burned with invisible fire. She gasped and sat upright, her breath ragged.

The first thing she saw was Kaelen kneeling at her side, his hand hovering close to her cheek, fear written raw across his face. His cloak was torn, his blades bloodied. The forest around them was still trembling, its roots withdrawing after the battle with the assassins.

“You’re awake.” His voice was low, almost reverent.

Serenya blinked, her vision struggling to clear. Darian stood a few steps away, sword still unsheathed, his back toward them as though daring any remaining threat to strike. His knuckles were white on the hilt.

“What happened?” she whispered.

Kaelen’s lips tightened. “You collapsed. The pendant—” He glanced at the fragments still scattered across the moss, glowing faintly like dying embers. “It shattered. And when it did, you screamed like your soul was being torn apart.”

Serenya touched her chest where the pendant had rested. There was no wound, no blood. Yet something inside her felt broken, as though the shattering had ripped away more than just an heirloom.

She swallowed. “I saw… my blood. Not mine alone. Memories that weren’t mine, lives lived long before me. Kings, queens, warriors, betrayers. They were all inside me, as though the forest forced me to remember what I am.”

Darian turned at that, his eyes dark with unease. “And what are you?”

The words cut like a blade.

Serenya met his gaze, steady despite the tremor in her voice. “I am the last of the Starborn line. My blood carries the right to the throne, and the power to bind shadows and stars together.” She paused. “But it also carries a curse.”

Kaelen’s brows drew together. “A curse?”

She nodded slowly. The memory of the voice echoed still, heavy as prophecy. Shadow cannot reign unless light accepts it.

“If I claim the throne without love, without choosing with my heart, the crown will destroy me. My bloodline was bound by oath centuries ago: only those who unite both star and shadow—duty and love—can wear the crown without falling into ruin.”

Silence stretched between them. The fire of Kaelen’s gaze, the stiffness of Darian’s shoulders, the weight of her confession—it all pressed against her like another battle waiting to be fought.

Darian was the first to speak, his tone sharp. “So all this—wars, betrayal, prophecies—boils down to a choice of who you give your heart to?”

“It’s not just a choice,” Serenya replied softly. “It’s survival. If I deny it, if I choose only the crown and not the heart, the kingdom falls with me.”

The forest stirred again, gentler now, as though confirming her words.

Kaelen rose to his feet, offering his hand to help her stand. She hesitated but took it, her skin tingling at the contact. His eyes held hers for a moment too long—gray storms filled with secrets she had yet to unravel.

“You should rest,” he said, voice quieter. “The forest has shown you what it needed to. Now we need to move before Thalric sends more.”

Darian sheathed his blade with a metallic snap. “He’ll never stop. Not until your blood stains his throne.” His words were bitter, but beneath them was something else—fear. Not for himself, but for her.

Serenya straightened, the fragments of the pendant crunching faintly beneath her boots. “Then we don’t wait for him. We find the Starborn Legacy before he does.”

Hours later, the three of them trekked through the narrowing paths of the forest. The air hung heavy, the canopy blotting out what little starlight broke through the eclipse. Serenya’s thoughts turned inward, replaying what she’d seen, what she’d felt.

She remembered her father’s voice from childhood, soft but distant, always laced with caution. One day, Serenya, you will understand why you must never reveal who you are.

She had thought it was fear of war, of assassins, of politics. But now she knew it was deeper. He had feared the curse.

Her blood carried both salvation and ruin.

“Your silence is loud,” Kaelen murmured beside her, breaking her reverie.

She glanced at him. “Do you ever wonder what you’d see, if the forest tested you?”

A shadow crossed his face. “I already know.”

She frowned. “How?”

“Because I live with it every day,” he said flatly. Then, after a pause, “My blood isn’t pure either. Shadows run through me in ways you can’t imagine. If the forest looked too closely, it wouldn’t whisper—it would condemn.”

The cryptic words sent a chill down her spine.

Before she could ask, Darian called from ahead. “We’ve reached it.”

They stepped into another clearing, smaller, almost hidden. At its center lay a pool of water so still it mirrored the eclipse above perfectly. Around its edges, ancient stones formed a broken circle, each carved with runes like those Serenya had seen on the monolith.

“This is it,” she breathed. “The heart of the Whispering Forest.”

As if in answer, the water stirred though no wind touched it. Light glimmered across its surface, forming shapes—crowns, stars, shadows. Then a single word appeared, glowing faintly on the rippling water: Blood.

Darian stiffened. “What does it want?”

Serenya stepped forward, heart hammering. “It wants mine.”

Kaelen grabbed her arm. “No.” His voice was sharp, almost desperate. “You don’t know what giving it will do.”

She pulled free, though her hand lingered against his. “If my blood carries both the curse and the key, then only my blood can unlock the Legacy.”

Without waiting, she drew a dagger from her belt. The metal caught the pale light as she pressed it against her palm. The blade bit into her skin, a thin line of crimson welling up. She let the drops fall into the pool.

The reaction was instant.

The water erupted in light, swirling into spirals of silver and shadow. The runes around the circle flared, casting beams skyward. Serenya gasped as the pool reflected not her face, but a woman’s—familiar yet older, regal, with the same eyes she saw in her mirror.

“Mother…” Serenya whispered, her knees buckling.

The vision of Queen Aelira Vale, thought long dead, gazed back from the pool. Her voice was clear, strong, echoing with command.

“My daughter. My blood. You have found what I could not.”

Kaelen and Darian froze, stunned into silence. Serenya’s tears blurred her sight. “You’re alive?”

The queen’s image shook her head. “No. Only my blood remains within you. I died to protect you, to bind the curse until you were ready. Now you must bear it. Only through love will you survive. Only through trust will the kingdom rise again.”

Her voice grew fainter. “Beware the duke. Beware the one who wears shadow as easily as skin. One of them will betray you. And one will save you.”

The light shattered. The pool stilled. The queen’s face vanished.

Serenya collapsed against the moss, breath trembling. Her blood still dripped from her hand, but she barely felt it.

Kaelen was at her side instantly, binding the wound with a strip of cloth torn from his sleeve. His hands shook despite his careful touch.

“Secrets in the blood indeed,” Darian murmured, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—dark, pained—flickered from Serenya to Kaelen, as though weighing something heavier than words.

Serenya’s gaze lingered on the still pool. Her mother’s warning echoed like thunder in her chest. One will betray. One will save.

And for the first time, she realized she didn’t know which fate awaited her.