ANMELDENSAPHRA’S POVEveryone is watching him.Waiting.For judgment.For death....For my death.But I’m not watching the crowd.I’m not watching the guards inching closer, their hands tightening on their weapons, their eyes flicking between me and the balcony.I’m only watching him.Lucien.His hands are still gripping the stone railing, cracks spiderwebbing beneath his fingers. His body is rigid, locked in place like something is holding him there.His eyes...They flicker. The war inside him is visible and I feel it through the bond.That fragile thread I followed back here It isn’t fragile anymore.It’s alive, burning, pulling me forward.I inhale slowly and I move.The first step echoes louder than it should.Gasps ripple through the crowd.“She’s moving...”“What is she doing....”“Stop her...”Hands reach for me.Guards.Their grip closes around my arm but I wrench free before they can fully restrain me.“Don’t touch me,” I snap, my voice steady despite the chaos trying to claw its way
LUCIEN’S POVThe noise reaches me before I reach it.Distant at first.A low, restless hum beneath the heavy silence that has consumed the palace these past weeks.Then louder.Voices.Too many voices.Raised.Uncontrolled.I sit in the dark of the throne room, unmoving, staring at nothing as the sound builds and builds until it presses against my skull like something trying to claw its way inside.Make it stop.The thought isn’t entirely mine.It never is anymore.My fingers curl slowly against the arm of the throne. There’s something inside me that stirs at the chaos.Something that likes it.Feeds on it.No.I push the feeling down, grinding my teeth as a sharp pulse of pain cuts behind my eyes.Focus.But focus is getting harder.Everything is getting harder.Voices blur together.Memories slip.Time fractures.Sometimes I blink and hours are gone. Sometimes I open my hands and there’s blood on them I don’t remember spilling.Sometimes...No.Don’t think about that.Don’t think ab
LADY SERAPHINE'S POVI refuse to be undone like this.Not by a story.Not by sentiment.Not by a girl who should have been erased the moment she stepped out of this palace.If they want truth, then I will give them truth.The kind that poisons.The kind that burns everything clean.I draw in a breath.And when I speak, my voice cuts through the chaos like a blade.“Enough.”It’s not louder than before.But it’s sharper.And this time, It works.The noise falters, stumbles then stills.Not completely.But enough.Enough for me to take it back.All of it.“You want to know who she is?” I say, my gaze sweeping across the crowd.Curiosity flickers.I turn slowly and for the first time since this began, I look directly at her.Saphra.Standing behind Marcus, still, silent watching and waiting.There’s no fear in her face.No panic.No scrambling for escape.And that, that almost irritates me more than anything else.Because she should be afraid.She should be desperate.But she isn’t.Whic
LADY SERAPHINE'S POVForce and threats should have worked.It always does.That’s how order is maintained.That’s how power functions.But as I stand in the center of the courtyard, watching Marcus refuse to yield, watching the guards hesitate, watching the servants linger instead of scattering.I feel it.Power slipping, breaking.No.I won’t let it.If brute command won’t bend them, then I will remind them why they should kneel.I straighten slowly, drawing in a breath, forcing the rage back beneath the surface where it belongs.Control.Always control.“Guards, stop.”My voice cuts through the noise, sharper and carrying across the courtyard with practiced precision.It works, partially.The murmurs quiet not fully but enough.I take a step forward, lifting my chin, letting them all see me clearly. Letting them remember who I am.“You forget yourselves,” I say, my tone measured now, deliberate. “All of you.”My gaze sweeps across the gathered crowd.“I am not some passing authority
LADY SERAPHINE'S POVThe moment the door slams open, I know something is wrong. I don’t need the breathless servant stumbling over her words to tell me.“My Lady.....” she gasps, bowing too quickly, too messily. “She....she’s back....”The words don’t fully register at first.My mind rejects them because they don’t make sense. They can not be true.“Say that again,” I tell her, my voice soft.The servant swallows hard, trembling.“Saphra,” she whispers. “She’s inside the palace.”For a moment everything goes very, very still.Then the world snaps.The crystal vase in my hand leaves my fingers before I even realize I’ve moved.It shatters against the far wall in a violent explosion of glass and sound, shards scattering across the polished floor like fragments of something far more fragile.The servant flinches, dropping to her knees with a choked cry.I don’t look at her.I can’t.Because something hot and vicious is rising inside me, clawing its way up my throat.“She what?” I breathe
SAPHRA’S POV When we reach the palace Mara leaves us and heads to the servant quaters to create a distraction for us. We wait in the darkness. Every step echoes faintly, a reminder of how exposed we are despite the darkness wrapping around us. Then, a voice cuts through the silence above us. Sharp and loud. Familiar. “I told you I left it there!” Mara. I freeze for half a second, my heart jumping into my throat. Her voice rises again, louder this time, edged with frustration. “Don’t lie to me! I know it was here!” The sound carries through the stone above us, distorted but clear enough. Marcus doesn’t stop. If anything, he moves faster. “It’s working,” he murmurs. Above us, more voices join in. Confused, arguing. “What are you talking about?” “I didn’t take anything.” “You’re accusing me now?” The noise builds quickly, overlapping shouts echoing faintly down through the tunnels. Servants. Guards. Exactly what we need. My chest tightens, I know Mara is up there
SAPHRA'S POV One moment I am sitting on the cold dungeon floor, back against stone, counting the slow drips of water somewhere beyond the corridor. The next— The world shatters. Moonlight floods my vision so violently I gasp, clawing at the ground beneath me. But there is no stone now. No iron
SAPHRA'S POV Darkness has weight. I did not understand that before the dungeon. Here, it presses against my skin like damp cloth, sinks into my lungs when I breathe, coils behind my eyes when I try to sleep. The torches in the corridor burn low and uneven, their light never quite reaching the co
SAPHRA'S POV Darkness stops being frightening after the first day. After that, it becomes a companion. Three days pass in the bowels of the palace, measured only by the sound of footsteps and the ache in my body. There is no light in my cell. No window....No crack in the stone. Time dissolves in
SAPHRA'S POV The rage fills me up white-hot and blinding. For a heartbeat after his confession, I can’t breathe. The dungeon seems to tilt, stone walls warping as if reality itself recoils from what he’s said. My mother begged him in dreams. Her murderer remembers her face. He remembers her dyi







