Semua Bab Her Enemy, His Curse: Bab 71 - Bab 80

The fire didn’t hurt.It stripped.Layer by layer—skin, memory, name.Pain was too small a word for what it did to me. This wasn’t agony. This was the truth. The kind that peeled back your soul and held it up to the light, daring you to look.I saw myself.Not in mirrors, but in echoes.A child with ash-streaked cheeks and wild eyes, stealing spells from locked rooms. A girl with too much power and not enough permission. A prisoner. A weapon. A lover. A liar. A key.I saw every moment that led me here.And I let it all go.The god reached inside me—not to take, but to unearth.Something older than the curse stirred in my blood, woken by the place, the magic, the sacrifice. A thread of divinity wound through my veins like molten gold.I didn’t scream.I opened.My bones shattered—then reformed.Hollow at first, like the wings of a bird not meant to walk. Then filled. With power. With purpose. With names that had never been spoken aloud.My blood turned to starlight.My lungs filled wit

FentonThe war room was chaos.Accusations flew like knives. Alliances cracked. Every court had sent a mouth, and every mouth was screaming. No one listened. No one cared.“She's gone!” the Summer delegate shouted, face flushed and wild. “The Temple consumed her! The curse did not break—it merely changed form!”“She didn’t die,” I growled. “You don’t understand what you saw. None of you do.”“Then enlighten us, wolf,” snapped the Autumn Prince. “Tell us how you plan to lead without your little witch to whisper blood and prophecy in your ear.”The stone table between us vibrated, as if it too had grown tired of our voices.I stood slowly. “Mind your tone, your highness. You might live longer.”He sneered. “You think threats make you a ruler?”“No,” I said. “But she does.”He opened his mouth to reply——and the air shifted.The torches along the walls flickered once, then blazed with white fire. Banners stopped moving mid-ripple. Even the Hollowed chained outside the gates stilled, head

LucianShe said it like a prayer.No—like a prophecy.“They’re going to try to kill me.”The air didn’t move after that. It froze.My hands curled before I could stop them, fists tightening at my sides. I didn’t ask her to repeat it. I didn’t doubt it for a second. The bond between us, once a thread, was now a burning cord through my ribs. And it flared the moment she spoke, heat licking up my spine like a warning.“Who?” I asked, voice low, teeth clenched to hold back the fury trembling behind it.Arielle didn’t look at me. She stared past me—through the mirror, through stone, through time. Her ceremonial robes still clung to her like silk chains, too heavy for her slender frame. Her reflection shimmered like it knew what she was becoming.“I don’t know their names,” she whispered. “But I felt them. Blood rites. Secrets. Rage.”I stepped toward her, slowly, as if she might vanish if I moved too fast. “Tell me what you need.”She looked at me then, and for a breath, I forgot how to st

LucianThere are thirteen of them.Thirteen masks. Thirteen blades. Thirteen chances for death, disguised as opportunity.The stone ring thrummed with old magic, the kind that crawled beneath the skin and whispered your secrets to the dirt. I kept to Arielle’s right—close enough to shield, not close enough to smother. She wouldn't allow that anymore.She moved like shadow given form, like the war she was born to wage. And as the contenders circled, I couldn’t help but watch the way they watched her.Like wolves at the scent of blood.And she?She offered them her throat with a smile."Let the Trials begin," Arielle said, voice cutting clean through the cold.A tremor moved through the circle. Magic rippled. Torches flared blue.And then—Chaos.Two contenders clashed instantly—steel on steel, no hesitation. Another dropped low, attempting to sweep a third’s legs before disappearing in smoke. One masked figure didn’t move at all, just watched Arielle the way I did.Like they knew her.

LucianThe path back wasn't a path at all.It was memory.Pain and power braided together like the twisted strands of the dagger’s hilt. Every step I took echoed with something ancient, something watching. The blade hadn’t stopped whispering since I claimed it. It didn’t speak in words anymore.It remembered.Every betrayal ever carved in bone.Every lover turned weapon.Every king who fell to his knees before it, and every god who bled because he didn’t.It wasn’t just judging me now.It was teaching me.And I—I was listening.The door reformed behind me when I emerged, not with stone, but with silence. The kind that pressed against your chest and demanded reverence. The Tower was waiting.But not for me.Her.Arielle.I didn’t have to see her to feel the shift. The air above was burning cold, the kind of heat that scalded from the inside out. The kind that transformed.My heart stuttered. Then beat again, harder.She was choosing her court.And if they failed—They’d die for it.Th