CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SKYE'S POV

The silence in the royal suite was heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and the dying embers of the fireplace. Eryx stood by the tall, arched window, his back to me as he looked out over the valley. Even from across the room, I could feel the erratic, vibrating hum of his wolf—an ancient, restless beast that seemed to be straining against its own skin.

I sat on the edge of the velvet-draped bed, my hands resting on my knees. I looked at them, half-expecting to see that soft, silver glow lingering beneath my skin, but there was nothing—just the faint, silvery outline of the crescent moon mark on my shoulder, pulsing like a slow, steady tide.

I was exhausted, yet my mind was racing with a thousand fragmented images from the quartz chamber. The woman with my face. The burning temple. The way the mountain had felt like a living, breathing entity when I finally reached out to grasp its core.

"You're thinking again," Eryx said, his voice cutting through the stillness. He didn't turn around. "I can hear the rhythm of your heart changing. It’s too fast, Skye."

"I have a right to think," I replied, standing up and walking toward him. The floorboards didn't creak beneath me; I felt as though I were hovering, a ghost in my own body. "I just realized that for eighteen years, I was living in a cage I didn't even know existed. And now that I'm out, I’m realizing the whole kingdom is just a bigger version of that same cage."

Eryx finally turned. His silver eyes were shadowed, filled with a weariness that defied his powerful frame. He moved toward me, not with the predatory grace I had grown accustomed to, but with a cautious, almost hesitant step.

"The kingdom was built on the foundation of that temple," he said, stopping a few feet away. "My ancestors—the ones who survived the purge—they thought they were protecting us. They thought if they centralized the power, if they created the Council and the Elder system, they could maintain order. But they forgot that power is like water. If you try to dam it up, it eventually breaks through the wall. And you, Skye... you are the flood."

"And what happens to the land when the flood comes?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Does it wash everything away? Or does it just leave a mess behind?"

"It changes the landscape," he said, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch was electric, a sudden surge of warmth that made my knees weak. "It cleanses the rot. It allows something new to grow."

I looked up into his eyes, searching for the King who had been so cold, so distant, at the masquerade. He was still there, but he was drowning in the weight of his own history. "Why me, Eryx? Out of all the descendants, out of all the hidden lines... why did you go to the Silvercrest pack? How did you know I was the one?"

He hesitated, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "I didn't know. Not for sure. I spent decades tracking the bloodline, following the trail of 'anomalies'—people who showed signs of latent talent, or strange visions. Most of them died young, their bodies unable to hold the legacy. When I found you... you were the first one who looked back at me without fear. Even then, when you were just a servant, there was something about your eyes. You were surviving the impossible."

"I was just trying to stay alive," I said, a bitter laugh escaping my lips.

"That's exactly why you're the one," he insisted, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling timbre. "The others wanted the power. They hungered for it. You? You wanted nothing more than to be left alone. That indifference, that rejection of the crown... that’s what made you strong enough to carry it."

I leaned into him, resting my forehead against his chest. I could hear his heart—strong, steady, and fast. It was the only thing in this entire fortress that felt honest. "If we do this—if we tear down the Elders and the Council—there’s no going back. They won't just step aside. They’ll send assassins, armies, curses. They’ll try to burn Nighthaven to the ground just like they did the temple."

"Then we will be the fire," he vowed, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me flush against him. "Skye, I spent eighty years waiting for a partner. I am done being the only one watching the gate."

The intimacy of the moment was interrupted by a sharp, rhythmic pounding at the door. I pulled away, my heart jumping into my throat. Eryx’s face hardened instantly, the warmth vanishing behind the iron mask of the King.

"Enter," he commanded.

The door swung open, and Kael stepped inside. His face was pale, a stark contrast to the dark uniform he wore. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Your Majesty," Kael began, his voice tight. "The lower guard towers. They’ve gone silent."

Eryx’s expression darkened. "Silent? What do you mean, silent? Are they under attack?"

"No, sir," Kael said, his hands shaking slightly. "They aren't under attack. They’ve been... removed. The entire masonry of the south tower, gone. As if it had never existed. And there’s a message, written on the stone where the guard room used to be."

I felt a chill wash over me. I stepped around Eryx, my pulse pounding in my ears. "What does it say?"

Kael looked at me, his gaze lingering on my shoulder for a fraction of a second, before shifting to the King. "It doesn't use words, Your Majesty. It uses a seal. The mark of the Obsidian Crown."

The air in the room seemed to freeze. I looked at Eryx, and for the first time since I’d met him, I saw genuine, unadulterated fear in his eyes.

"The Obsidian Crown," he whispered. "That's impossible. They were wiped out in the First Rebellion. They’re a myth."

"They're not a myth, Eryx," I said, my voice sounding hollow as the realization dawned on me. The woman in the vision—the one with my face—she hadn't been the only one. There was an entire faction, an entire lineage that hadn't been destroyed, just buried. "They’re the people the Elders were afraid of. And they’re not coming for the kingdom."

I walked toward the door, my resolve hardening into a sharp, lethal blade. "They’re coming for me."

"Skye, stay here," Eryx ordered, moving to block my path.

But I was already walking. I could feel the mountain, I could feel the cracks in the foundations where the south tower used to be. It wasn't just a threat. It was a beckoning.

"No," I said, not looking back. "If they have the Crown, they have the keys to the temple too. We don't have time to hide, Eryx. If we want to rule this kingdom, we have to start by showing them who actually owns the stone."

As I stepped into the hallway, the torches didn't just flare—they exploded into brilliant, silver flames, lighting the way for us like a funeral procession. The war hadn't started yet, but the first move had been made.

And I was ready to play.