The Spine's library was a cathedral of shadows.
Columns of obsidian climbed high into darkness, their edges carved with runes that pulsed faintly in Kaelen's presence, as though recognizing the fire that lived in him. The shelves groaned under tomes bound in cracked leather and dragonhide, the kind of books that felt more alive than dead.
Lyra's lantern burned with a pale-blue flame, casting ghostlight across her features. She walked between the shelves like she belonged here, though Kaelen knew she hadn't set foot in this place in years. The last time she had, her mother had warned her never to return.
And yet here they were.
"You said the prophecy was written here," Kaelen murmured, his voice echoing too loudly in the vast chamber.
Lyra nodded. "The original verse, before it was twisted into whispers and lies." Her hand hovered over the spines of the books, pausing at a gilded volume chained to the wall. She unlocked it with a word that curled from her lips like music.
The chain rattled. The book opened.
Kaelen felt a chill as ancient ink bled across the pages, shifting, rearranging until words glowed faintly in silver script. He couldn't read them, but Lyra could.
Her voice shook as she began:
"When crown is stolen, and fire awakes,
A blade not fae shall cleave the gates.
Shadow and silver, blood entwined,
The lost-born flame will break the line.
One shall bind, one shall fall,
And with his choice, decide it all."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Kaelen frowned. "That's it? That's what everyone's ready to kill me over?"
Lyra closed the book, though her hand lingered on the page. "You don't understand. Every fae child learns fragments of this verse. But the full prophecy—this—was buried."
He snorted. "Convenient. So what does it mean? 'Blade not fae'—that's me, right? A human?"
Her gaze lifted to him, eyes bright with unease. "Yes. But it also means you were never meant to be here. The prophecy should not have awakened at all. You were… pulled across realms for a reason."
The fire inside him stirred, restless at her words. Kaelen clenched his fists. "So what am I supposed to do—save your people? Tear down your gates? Or just burn until there's nothing left of me?"
Lyra reached for him, her hand brushing his arm. The contact steadied him, but also sent a current through his veins, fire flaring hotter. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I know this much—you're not just a pawn. You're the knife that cuts the board in two."
They didn't hear the footsteps until it was too late.
A voice, smooth and amused, drifted from the dark. "How touching. My cousin reading bedtime stories to her pet human."
Tharos emerged from between the shelves, violet eyes gleaming. His smile was all sharp edges. "Did you really think the library was unguarded? That you could skulk in here without being noticed?"
Kaelen drew his sword. The fire licked along the blade's edge, responding instantly. "Stay out of this, Tharos."
The fae prince tilted his head. "On the contrary, this is precisely my concern. You see, the prophecy doesn't name you as a savior. It names you as a destroyer."
Lyra's jaw tightened. "You twist words to suit yourself."
"And you," Tharos said smoothly, "twist hope into blindness. Tell me, cousin—when it says 'one shall fall,' who do you think it means? Him? Or you?"
Kaelen's grip faltered for a fraction of a second. The fire inside him flickered, as though the prophecy itself waited on his answer.
"Enough." Lyra stepped between them. "We came here for truth, not your poison."
Tharos's smile deepened. "Then allow me to give you truth."
From his cloak, he drew a shard of black crystal. It pulsed faintly, shadows bleeding off its surface. "The crown was not stolen by mortals or rebels. It was given. Offered to the Shadowborn. By whom, I wonder?"
Lyra stiffened. "You're lying."
"Am I?" His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Ask yourself why the Queen has grown so frail. Ask yourself why shadows creep even here, in the Spine. She made a bargain, Lyra. And your precious prophecy—" he flicked his gaze to Kaelen "—is nothing but her way of chaining a human spark to fae blood."
The library seemed to darken around them, shadows pressing closer.
Kaelen felt it again—the heat in his chest rising, the urge to ignite and burn everything away. He shoved it down, teeth grinding. "If you're trying to rattle me, it's working. Congratulations. But here's something you didn't consider, Tharos."
Tharos raised a brow. "Oh?"
Kaelen's blade flared, casting silver firelight across the shelves. "If the prophecy says I'll break the line, then maybe it's your line I'll break first."
For once, Tharos's smirk faltered. His expression hardened, arrogance giving way to something sharper. He stepped back into the shadows, his voice echoing as he vanished. "Choose carefully, human. Fire burns everything—friend, foe, lover. Everything."
Silence returned to the library, heavy and oppressive.
Lyra's hand found Kaelen's again, tighter this time, as though afraid he might vanish. Her voice was low, trembling. "He's right about one thing. The fire won't stop for anyone. Not even me."
Kaelen turned to her, heart pounding. "Then we find a way to control it. Together."
Her eyes searched his, silver reflecting firelight. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just them, two sparks caught between prophecy and choice.
But even as she leaned closer, the fire in Kaelen's chest surged again—wild, hungry, dangerous. He forced it down, afraid of what might happen if he didn't.
The prophecy's words echoed in his mind: One shall bind, one shall fall… and with his choice, decide it all.
And for the first time, Kaelen wondered if surviving the prophecy would mean choosing who to lose.