The chains didn't burn her skin.
But they burned her spirit.
Serai sat in the Temple of Judgment, bound by golden runes that pulsed like heartbeats. The priests had stripped her of her robe, her titles, her weapons. She wore a simple shift of white linen. Symbol of a traitor. Or worse a heretic.
Torches crackled against the polished obsidian walls. The air reeked of incense and fear.
She couldn't sleep. Not with her mark glowing brighter each hour.
Not with his voice still echoing in her mind.
Auren (memory): You're not what they think you are.
She looked down at her wrist. The golden crescent shimmered like fire and moonlight.
No matter how many purification rites they performed, it wouldn't fade.
Because it wasn't a curse.
It was a thread.
A bond that pulsed with life.
The High Priests entered at dawn.
Clad in full ceremonial armor, their faces hidden behind sun masks. In the center stood Archon Veyr, the emperor's hand and voice of divine law.
He gazed at her like one would a broken mirror.
"You've trespassed into forbidden realms," he said.
"I followed my magic."
"You chose a cursed prince over your own people."
"I chose the truth."
His eyes narrowed. "Then speak that truth."
She lifted her chin. "He didn't harm me. He saved me."
"Lies," the priest beside him hissed. "He marked you. Corrupted your essence."
"No. We're connected."
Veyr leaned forward. "And what is that connection?"
"I don't know," she admitted, voice soft. "But it's not evil."
"Then you won't mind if we sever it."
Serai's eyes widened.
"What?"
The guards advanced, rune-blades glowing with sealing magic.
"You can't do this!" she shouted.
Veyr raised a hand. "We must protect the light. Even from one of our own."
The chains yanked her forward.
Her mark blazed.
Pain lanced through her arm as one of the rune-blades grazed it.
And then—
The ground cracked.
The torches snuffed out. The golden walls pulsed black for a second.
Everyone froze.
Then a whisper.
Soft. Cold. Familiar.
"Let her go."
A ripple in space. Shadows coiled upward like smoke.
Auren.
He stepped through a rift that hadn't existed a second ago. Moonlight clung to his cloak. His expression was unreadable but his eyes burned.
"You dare enter the Temple?" Veyr snapped.
"You dare chain someone who belongs to both realms," Auren answered.
Veyr snarled, casting a radiant sigil. "She belongs to the light!"
"No," Auren said. "She belongs to herself."
He raised his hand.
And the shadows moved.
The battle that followed would be remembered in whispers.
Auren moved like mist, untouchable and terrifying. The shadows didn't obey him they loved him. They wrapped around his arms, struck down runeblades, shattered light barriers.
Serai watched as the High Priests fell one by one, not dead just overwhelmed by the presence of balance.
The moment the chains broke, her magic surged back.
But it felt different now.
It wasn't just light.
It was both.
She stood beside Auren.
No longer afraid.
Their marks glowed in sync his silver, hers gold.
The priests screamed of prophecy, of doom.
But Serai only heard the rhythm of the eclipse pulsing in her blood.
"Are you ready?" Auren asked her.
She nodded. "Take me with you."
They vanished.
🌒
The world of Dusk wasn't dead.
It was waiting.
Floating islands. Silver trees. Black rivers glowing from within. Castles made of starlight ruins. Spirits roamed freely. Time twisted oddly here.
"This is where the old gods sleep," Auren told her.
"And the new ones are afraid," Serai said.
He glanced at her. "You understand more quickly than I expected."
"I feel… at home."
"You are home," he said.
In the coming days, she trained beneath moons instead of suns. Her light magic warped—evolved. It danced with shadow now, creating new forms. Her sword hummed with eclipse energy.
Auren watched her silently, always near but never too close.
Until one night, she finally asked:
"Why won't you touch me?"
He looked away. "Because I don't know what it will cost me."
"What if I'm willing to pay it too?"
He met her eyes then haunted, hopeful.
"…Then we fall together."
That night, they touched.
Not hands.
But souls.
Their marks merged briefly.
And in that merging, visions exploded across their minds.
A shattered world.
Twin thrones.
The moon bleeding gold.
Serai in armor of eclipse.
Auren dying in her arms.
And a voice—older than time—whispering:
"Only one may live to end the curse."
They broke the connection, both gasping.
Serai clutched her chest. "What… was that?"
"The future," Auren said. "Or a warning."
She trembled. "Does it always end like this?"
"Only if we let it."
But far away, in the capital of light, the Empress awakened from a vision.
She had seen her daughter standing beside the Prince of Dusk.
She had seen her empire fall.
And so she called forth the Covenant Blades the deadliest shadows of the Solari Empire.
Her decree was clear.
Bring Serai home. Or bring her heart.
Midnight, Dusk Realm – The Forgotten Watchtower
Serai stared into the reflection pool.
It didn't show her face anymore.
Not fully.
Sometimes, it flickered showing the face of someone older, cloaked in starlight, with eyes like galaxies. The same woman from her dreams. The one who whispered her name from beyond time.
"Seraphine…"
The old name again.
Each time it was spoken, her magic stirred deeper. Hungrier. As if it were remembering something she was too afraid to accept.
Auren approached, silent as ever.
His presence no longer startled her. She could feel him now before he entered a room. Like a second heartbeat. A pulse in her bones.
"You saw her again," he said.
She nodded. "She keeps calling me Seraphine."
He knelt beside her, his voice low. "That was your name… long ago."
Serai turned to him. "You know who I was, don't you?"
He hesitated.
Then: "You were a goddess once. Or something close. Born of eclipse. Child of both the Moonborn and Sunforged bloodlines. A bridge."
She went still.
"I don't understand."
"You don't need to yet," he whispered. "But you will."
He placed a small shard of crystal in her hand.
It glowed faintly, reflecting both her mark and his.
"When the time comes… it will choose you. Or it won't."
She looked at it, then him. "And if it doesn't?"
His voice was quiet. "Then the world ends."
Elsewhere - The Capital of Light, Throne of Solari
Empress Lysara of the Solari watched flames dance on the altar.
Golden embers shaped into visions of Serai standing with the Prince of Dusk. Of prophecy shattered. Of thrones burned.
"She has chosen him," the empress murmured, eyes burning with fury.
"She is corrupted," said Archon Veyr.
"No," Lysara replied. "She is remembering who she was."
She turned to the generals kneeling before her.
"I want the Covenant Blades deployed. No mercy. No capture. If my daughter will not return to the light…"
She crushed a golden lotus in her fist.
"…then let her bloom in death."
Back in the Realm of Dusk — The Broken Bridge
Three days later, Auren and Serai stood on the fractured edge of a forgotten bridge. Below them, a void swirled a rift left behind by the war of the ancients.
"This bridge once connected our realms," Auren said. "Light and shadow walked side by side here."
Serai ran her fingers along a vine-choked pillar. "What broke it?"
He answered, eyes dark. "Fear."
They set up camp beneath a crescent arch. Firelight painted their features Serai's soft but watchful, Auren's carved and unreadable.
He handed her dried fruit and spiritroot tea.
She frowned. "You eat?"
He smirked faintly. "I'm not a ghost, Serai."
"…You act like one."
The smile faded.
She regretted it instantly.
"I didn't mean"
"No," he said, gaze distant. "You're right. I don't belong here. Not fully. I'm cursed to exist between two worlds. And the gods want me gone."
She reached for him—hesitated—then touched his hand.
He flinched, but didn't pull away.
"Then stay between," she said. "With me."
Auren stared at her for a long moment.
"Why do you trust me?" he whispered. "You barely know me."
Serai met his gaze.
"Because my soul remembers yours."
Silence.
Then he leaned in. Just enough for their foreheads to touch.
No kiss.
Just closeness. Quiet and trembling and dangerous.
"I won't let them take you," he said.
"I won't let them take you," she whispered.
But the moment shattered.
Because the shadows behind them moved and not by Auren's will.
A cold wind swept over the bridge.
From the void below, figures emerged cloaked in golden and obsidian armor, faces hidden by mirrored masks.
The Covenant Blades.
Six elite assassins sworn to the light, trained in holy execution.
Auren stood, cloak flaring.
"Run," he told Serai.
She drew her sword. "No."
"We're not ready for them."
"I won't leave you."
He looked at her, moonlight clashing with firelight in his eyes.
"…Then we fight."
The battle exploded like thunder.
Serai's blade danced with gold and eclipse fire. She was faster now more dangerous. Her magic didn't hesitate.
Auren became a storm. Shadows wrapped around his limbs like wolves. Each strike of his hand shattered stone.
But the Covenant Blades didn't falter.
One sliced Serai across the shoulder holy light burned into her skin. She screamed.
Auren's rage turned feral.
He unleashed a wave of shadowlight that blasted two of them into the rift.
Another Blade grabbed Serai by the neck.
"You're not the daughter of light anymore," he hissed.
"No," she growled, eyes blazing.
"I'm the child of dusk."
She drove her sword through his helm.
Breathing hard, they stood amidst the wreckage.
Four Blades dead.
Two retreated into light portals, vanishing with hissing hatred.
Serai fell to her knees.
Auren caught her before she hit the ground.
Her wound glowed painfully.
"You'll be okay," he said.
"You're lying."
"I know."
She clutched his tunic. "Don't disappear again."
He wrapped his arms around her. Tight.
"I couldn't if I tried."
Above them, the sky cracked.
The eclipse was coming.
And the gods were watching.