POV: Nernia
The ocean groaned with secrets that night.
Torches lit the darkened path as Nernia followed Kaelen into the deepest chamber beneath the Temple of Varyn — the oldest structure in their kingdom, older even than the throne. Magic vibrated in the air, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Kaelen pushed open the heavy stone doors with both palms. Ancient glyphs shimmered faintly on the walls, glowing pale blue.
"It's here," he said softly. "The truth. The curse. And the way to end it."
Nernia stepped into the chamber, her breath catching. At the center of the room stood an altar carved from black obsidian, and atop it, a book bound in sea-dragon hide — the Tome of Marais. The original prophecy.
Kaelen opened it with reverent hands. "The prophecy was never about two lovers dying. It was about balance — sacrifice in place of destruction."
He pointed at the old dialect, slowly translating.
> "When the tides bleed red and the moon turns silver, the bond may be undone—by a heart given freely, and a name surrendered to the sea."
Nernia's brows furrowed. "A name surrendered?"
Kaelen nodded grimly. "Someone must give up everything. Their bloodline, their identity, even their memory. To become one with the sea and protect the realm forever."
Her heart stuttered. "You think… that someone is you?"
"I know it is," he said, stepping back from the altar. "I've been marked by the tides since I was born. I was always meant to be the anchor."
She shook her head, her voice breaking. "No. There must be another way. I just got you back—I won't lose you again to some ancient curse."
But Kaelen didn't flinch. "If it means saving you, I'll do it."
Tears pricked her eyes. "I don't want to be saved. I want us to survive this—together."
A sudden wind howled through the chamber, flipping the pages of the tome wildly. The glyphs flared.
Nernia's hand flew to her chest as a symbol lit up beneath her skin—an old sigil of the sea goddess. Her mouth parted in shock. "Kaelen… maybe it isn't just you."
He stared at her, realization dawning. "It takes two—a willing bond. One to surrender their past. One to guard the future."
Their gazes locked. For the first time, the prophecy didn't feel like a death sentence.
It felt like a choice.