Chapter 59

Mist coiled along the courtyard like a living serpent, wrapping the broken stones in a pale shroud. Serenya tightened her cloak around her shoulders, her heart thundering in the silence. Every step toward the old fortress felt heavier than the last.

Kaelen’s shadow lingered just behind her, silent and sharp as a blade. His presence steadied her, though his eyes—dark, unreadable—were fixed on the looming gates.

“This place isn’t abandoned,” he murmured. “It breathes.”

And he was right. The fortress of Mirethane, once a place of royal feasts, now whispered with strange echoes. Faint lights flickered in windows long thought shattered. Serenya knew this was no ordinary stronghold. This was where illusions were born.

Isolde Mirean had warned them: “Trust nothing you see beyond the gates. The fortress will weave lies to break your spirit. If you falter, you’ll never return.”

But Serenya could not turn away. Somewhere within those walls lay the final key to the prophecy, the truth her bloodline had hidden for generations. And perhaps, the weapon Thalric Veynor sought to end her claim to the throne.

They entered.

The gates groaned like a beast awakening, and the world shifted.

Suddenly, the courtyard bloomed with life—flowers glistening with dew, the sound of laughter in the air. Children ran across the cobblestones, knights trained under a blazing sun. The fortress was no ruin—it was alive. Whole.

Serenya gasped. “It’s… beautiful.”

Kaelen caught her arm sharply. “Illusion. Don’t believe it.”

Yet his words faltered when a familiar figure approached them. A tall man, regal in bearing, with golden eyes Serenya knew from portraits.

Her father.

King Vale, slain when she was a child, stood before her, warm and smiling.

“My little star,” he whispered. “You’ve come home.”

Serenya’s breath hitched. She had dreamed of this moment a thousand times—the embrace she never had, the voice she lost too soon. Tears stung her eyes as her body leaned forward, desperate for the comfort.

“Serenya!” Kaelen’s hand tightened around her wrist. “It’s a trap. Look closer.”

But her father’s eyes glowed with tenderness she had never known. He opened his arms. “You don’t have to fight anymore. Leave the crown. Leave the pain. Stay with me.”

Her knees weakened. “Kaelen… what if—”

Kaelen’s voice cut like steel. “He’s already dead. This is what the fortress wants—to chain you with your longing.”

She shut her eyes. The warmth she felt, the smell of cedar on the illusion’s cloak—so real it hurt. But when she forced herself to step back, the figure flickered. Gold eyes became hollow pits. Skin peeled like parchment, revealing a shadow’s grin.

Her heart cracked, but she did not falter. “You are not my father.”

The illusion hissed and shattered into smoke.

They pressed onward, climbing winding staircases that seemed endless. Walls shifted, doors multiplied, hallways looped back on themselves. Time lost all meaning.

“Do you feel it?” Serenya asked, her voice trembling.

“Yes,” Kaelen said. “The fortress feeds on us. The longer we wander, the weaker we grow.”

A sound broke the silence—a woman’s laughter, crystalline and cruel. Eloria Thorne.

“Impossible,” Serenya whispered.

But there she stood, dressed in silver armor, her rival’s beauty sharp as a blade.

“Eloria?” Serenya’s hand flew to her dagger.

Kaelen drew his sword. “Not her. Another lie.”

But this Eloria smirked knowingly. “Oh, but I am real, darling. Real enough to end you.” She lunged, steel flashing.

Their blades clashed in sparks. Serenya felt the weight of Eloria’s strikes—too fierce, too deliberate to be illusion. Was it possible the rival princess had entered the fortress before them?

Kaelen shouted, “Don’t give her your focus! That’s how they trick us!”

But Eloria’s blade grazed Serenya’s cheek. The sting was sharp, warm blood trailing down her skin. Illusions could not draw blood.

Serenya’s stomach dropped. “Kaelen—it’s her. She’s truly here.”

The realization was a dagger of its own. Eloria had followed them, using the fortress itself as her battlefield.

“You’ll never wear the crown,” Eloria hissed, her sword twisting dangerously close. “I’ll see you buried beneath these walls first.”

Serenya blocked the strike, sparks blinding her eyes. Every muscle burned with fear and fury.

Kaelen leapt between them, blade locking with Eloria’s. “Run!” he barked at Serenya.

But Serenya didn’t move. She couldn’t leave him. Instead, she drew her second dagger, flanking Eloria with swift precision. Together, she and Kaelen struck in harmony, pushing Eloria back step by step.

The rival princess snarled. “This fortress will devour you both.” Then, like smoke, she vanished—slipping between shadows as though she were never there.

Serenya’s chest heaved. “She was real.”

Kaelen nodded grimly. “Which means she knows what we’re after.”

They climbed to the highest chamber, where the air grew colder, heavier. A single mirror stood in the center of the room, framed in silver vines. Its surface rippled like water, reflecting not their bodies, but their desires.

Serenya froze.

In the mirror, she stood crowned, a kingdom kneeling before her. At her side, Kaelen’s hand clasped hers, his gaze filled with love. The image burned with promise.

“Do you see it?” she whispered.

Kaelen’s jaw clenched. “I see… a different path.”

His reflection showed something else—a throne bathed in shadow, a crown forged from flame, his figure draped in power no protector should hold. A ruler, not a guardian.

Serenya’s breath caught. “That isn’t you.”

His hand trembled on his sword hilt. “Perhaps it is. Perhaps this is what I was meant to be. The fortress shows not only lies, but truths we deny.”

The mirror pulsed, its whispers coiling around them: “Choose. The crown or the heart. One cannot live while the other thrives.”

Serenya staggered back. “It wants us divided.”

Kaelen turned to her, eyes burning. “And if it’s right? If loving you means destroying you?”

Pain cut deeper than any blade. She stepped closer, placing her hand over his. “Then we fight the illusion together. We choose us. Not what it wants us to believe.”

For a long, agonizing moment, Kaelen did not move. Then slowly, he lowered his sword. His lips brushed her forehead. “Together.”

The mirror screamed. Cracks split across its surface, light pouring from within.

When it shattered, the fortress groaned and the illusions crumbled. The walls returned to ruin, the mist dissolving into the night. They were free.

But at their feet, among the shards, lay a single fragment glowing with strange power. Serenya bent and lifted it, the silver edges warm in her palm.

Inscribed within the glass were words that chilled her to the bone:

“Only the betrayed shall wear the crown.”

Her heart clenched. A prophecy piece, one they could not ignore.

Kaelen touched her arm. “What does it mean?”

She closed her hand around the shard. “That the greatest betrayal is yet to come.”

Outside, the first light of dawn bled across the horizon. But within Serenya, darkness and dread grew heavier. She had faced illusions, the longing for her father, the temptation of her heart. But the words etched in the shard made one thing clear—

The betrayal had not yet happened.

And it would break them.