The cell was no longer silent.
At first, I thought madness had finally taken me — the silence breaking into voices, faces, sounds that didn't belong here. But the shadows had grown louder, hungrier, stronger since I stopped resisting them.
Now, they whispered with purpose. And they showed me things.
Not dreams. Not hallucinations.
Visions.
I lay on the cold stone, half-starved, lips cracked and throat raw, when the first one came. The shadows seeped from the corners of the cell, swirling like smoke. They pooled before me until they shaped a window of darkness. And through it — I saw.
Kaylan.
She stood at the head of a war band, her pale hair gleaming under the moon. Hunters knelt at her command, armor gleaming, weapons lined with silver and fire. Her voice cut through the night:
"Leave none alive. Marcus demands their ashes."
The hunters roared back. And they moved.
The vision plunged me into their raid. Shadows carried me over the rooftops, through the clash of blades. Screams tore through the night as humans and rogues alike were slaughtered. Kaylan moved like a storm, her glaive a silver arc that split flesh from bone.
This is her joy, the shadows whispered in my ear. This is what she lives for — blood, dominance, cruelty. She burns her name into the world with slaughter, and Marcus favors her for it.
I flinched as a child's cry pierced the vision. Hunters dragged a family into the square, silver brands searing skin. Kaylan watched, expression calm, almost serene. Then she turned her glaive — and blood sprayed across the cobblestones.
I jerked back, breath heaving, but the shadows only pulled tighter. Do not look away. This is the truth you were spared. This is what they do while you rot.
The vision dissolved into black smoke, curling back into the corners of my cell. My stomach twisted with nausea. My hands shook.
But worse than Kaylan's slaughter was the next vision.
Liam.
The shadows dragged me into the dungeon, into a place darker than mine. Chains wrapped his wrists and ankles, cutting deep, his skin raw from strain. He was slumped forward, breath ragged. His face was a map of bruises, his eyes swollen — but they were still his.
Still burning.
I whispered his name before I could stop myself. "Liam…"
He lifted his head slowly, as though hearing me. For a heartbeat, I swore his gaze locked with mine through the vision.
Then Kaylan's voice cut through.
She appeared in the cell, leaning lazily against the bars, her smile cruel. "How long do you think she'll last without you, little hero?"
Liam spat blood at her feet. "Longer than you want."
Her hand whipped out, striking him across the face. His head snapped back, chains rattling. But he only smiled, faint, bloody.
That smile cost him. The hunters entered, bringing knives, bringing fire. The vision blurred in smoke, but not before I saw the blade drag across his skin, not deep enough to kill, only to mark. To remind him he was bait.
They break him to break you, the shadows crooned. Every scream he swallows, every wound they carve, is another chain around your throat. How long before you give yourself up to spare him?
"No!" I slammed my fists against the stone until skin split. "No. I won't let them. I won't break."
But the shadows laughed, low and endless, curling around my wrists like shackles.
The third vision came when I thought I could endure no more. My body was trembling, my mind fraying. But the shadows had one more truth to show me.
This time, I stood in the great hall again, though my body never moved from the cell. Marcus sat upon his throne, not in judgment but in counsel. Before him, maps of bloodied parchment lay unfurled. Red marks burned across territories, names inked in black.
And there it was.
A single name, carved in crimson across the northern lands.
Seraphina.
The whisper hissed louder than ever in my ear, rattling through my bones. The true queen in the dark. The fire to Marcus's shadow. The war he fears but cannot stop.
"Seraphina," Marcus said, the name venom on his tongue. "She builds her faction, spreading whispers like wildfire. Already, half the clans of the north bend knee to her. If we wait, she will strike first."
Lucian lounged at his side, golden eyes gleaming. "Then strike faster. Take her flames, crush them beneath your heel before she grows too bold."
Selene's voice drifted from the shadows: "Threads tangle when blades cross. The web trembles with her rise. If you march, beware — destiny coils like a serpent."
Kaylan slammed her glaive against the stone, sparks flying. "Then let it coil. I'll cut the head from this so-called queen myself."
Marcus's hand silenced them. His eyes burned with quiet fury. "War is coming. Prepare the clan. When Seraphina rises, we will be ready."
The shadows dissolved the vision, plunging me back into the cold black of my cell.
But the name remained. Echoing. Beating like a drum in my skull.
Seraphina.
I curled against the wall, shivering though my body burned. Kaylan's cruelty, Liam's torment, Marcus's war — all of it had been placed before me by the shadows. Not imagination. Not madness. Too sharp. Too real.
Why show me this? I whispered to the dark.
The shadows coiled, warm and close, their voices like velvet. Because you will need us. Because only through us will you survive what comes.
I closed my eyes. Their whispers echoed still.
And in the silence of the isolation cell, I realized something more terrifying than all the visions.
The shadows weren't just testing me anymore.
They were preparing me.