The air in the stronghold had changed.
Ever since the ritual, Aria felt it creeping in—like mist through stone. Whispers in the halls. Uneasy glances from warriors she'd once trained beside. They no longer looked at her as a girl growing into her strength. They looked at her like a storm waiting to break.
She stood alone on her balcony, the wind tugging at her fiery hair. The morning was cold, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts were louder than the wind.
The scroll Elara had entrusted to her pulsed faintly beneath her bed, tucked in its rune-locked chest. After the ritual, the symbols had dimmed—but something about it still whispered to her in her dreams. Of blood. Of betrayal. Of power.
A knock pulled her from the spiral.
She turned. "Come in."
The door creaked, and Raekon stepped through, his dark eyes scanning her face. "You missed the council meeting."
"I wasn't needed," she said simply.
"Kael noticed," he replied. "Though he didn't say it."
Aria's mouth tightened. "Did he also notice that he's been avoiding me for days?"
Raekon leaned on the edge of her dresser. "He's under pressure. The border's unstable. And now... she's back."
Aria stiffened. "She?"
Raekon hesitated, then said, "Karis."
---
Down in the sparring courtyard, the rhythmic clang of steel echoed like heartbeats.
Kael moved with brutal precision, his blade arcing with grace and fury. Across from him, the warrior parried, stumbled, and ultimately fell, sword skidding across the stone.
"Again," Kael growled, jaw tight.
"You trying to cripple me, Alpha?" the warrior groaned.
Kael didn't answer. He was already turning away.
Then came the voice.
"Still fighting like you're angry at the world?"
He froze.
Karis stood just inside the gate, arms crossed, dark hair gleaming in the sun. Her form-fitting leathers looked untouched by travel. Her smirk was effortless.
"Or maybe just angry at yourself," she added.
Kael's gaze hardened. "You're early."
"I missed the smell of wolves and blood," she said. "And I heard you finally met your 'fated one.'" Her eyes sparkled with challenge. "She as perfect as prophecy promised?"
Kael didn't answer.
Karis stepped into the ring without waiting for permission. "Spar with me. For old times' sake."
He looked like he wanted to refuse. But then he nodded once, curtly.
---
From the tower balcony, Aria watched the two move together like a memory unfolding. Their swords collided, quick and fluid. Step, parry, counter. It was more than sparring—it was rhythm. Familiar. Dangerous.
Beside her, Nyla whistled low. "Who's the tight-leathered storm cloud?"
"Karis," Aria said, voice flat.
"The infamous ex-partner?"
"Yes."
Nyla arched a brow. "Oof. That's a complication."
---
Karis was a storm. And Kael didn't fight her—he flowed with her. Every clash of their blades rang with something deeper than technique.
When Kael finally disarmed her, she smiled up at him from where she'd landed.
"Still predictable," she teased.
Kael offered a hand.
And Aria's heart sank as she watched Karis take it.
---
The war room was packed that night. Maps covered the long table, candles flickering against anxious faces.
"The Blood Covenant is moving along the northern pass," said Raekon, pointing to a red sigil. "Too close to our borders."
"We should strike first," Lyra said. "Catch them off guard."
Kael nodded. "No. We wait. Let them overextend."
Karis leaned in beside him, close. "You're playing it safe. That's not the Kael I remember."
He didn't flinch. "I'm playing it smart."
Aria stood across the table, silent. Watching.
"Aria," General Marek said. "You had a vision?"
She hesitated. "Not a clear one. But... blood in the snow. Betrayal from within."
Karis snorted lightly. "How convenient."
Raekon's hand twitched at his side. "Careful," he warned her.
Karis shrugged. "Just saying—visions can be shaped by fear. Or desire."
Aria's gaze met hers. "You speak like someone who's never had power touch her mind."
Kael's voice was sharp. "Enough."
But Karis smiled sweetly and stepped back.
---
Later that night, Aria wandered the moon garden, her boots crunching the frost-kissed grass. Her chest ached. Not from battle. From doubt.
She wasn't just angry. She was hurting.
Kael had been distant since the ritual. And now Karis—beautiful, confident, his past—was here, moving through the stronghold like she still owned pieces of him.
Aria sat by the silver fountain, dipping her hand in the cold water.
She hadn't asked to fall for him.
And she certainly hadn't asked to compete.
That's when she heard voices.
Low. Heated. Just beyond the hedge wall.
She rose, instinct sharpening.
"…You're different now," Karis was saying.
Kael: "So are you."
"I still know you. Better than she does."
A pause. A breath.
"She's young. New to this world. And if you're honest, she terrifies you."
"She's powerful."
"She's dangerous," Karis corrected. "Your instincts are screaming it. You just won't admit it."
"I won't abandon her," Kael said at last.
"You already are," Karis whispered. "Piece by piece."
Aria didn't wait to hear more.
She fled.
---
She didn't make it back to her chambers. Instead, she climbed the old spiral tower near the east wing—the one no one used anymore. Cold stone, broken windows, a sky full of stars.
Her breath clouded in front of her.
She didn't cry.
She burned.
Magic sparked beneath her skin, wild and electric. Her hands shook. The stone beneath her feet trembled faintly.
The power inside her didn't want to be caged anymore.
And she was tired of pretending she was okay.
---
Back in the great hall, Kael stood alone by the fire.
He felt her absence like a missing limb.
Karis had already gone, after saying too much. As always.
He stared into the flames and cursed his silence. His pride. His inability to say the thing he felt instead of what strategy required.
He didn't want Karis.
He needed Aria.
And if he didn't act soon, he would lose her.
---
Far away, in a hidden sanctum of shadows, Mircella watched the pool of visions ripple with silver and red.
"She breaks," the dark sorceress said softly. "Her heart splinters. Just as the prophecy warned."
Beside her, Celene twirled a blade between her fingers. "Shall we move in?"
Mircella's smile was cruel. "Not yet. Let her fall a little further. Then… we offer her something no one else has."
Celene raised a brow. "And what's that?"
"Control," Mircella whispered. "Over fate itself."
---
Back in the tower, Aria stood as storm clouds rolled in.
She lifted her hand—and lightning shimmered across her palm.
No one would save her.
Not Kael.
Not prophecy.
She would forge herself anew.
Even if it meant burning down the very destiny she'd been given.