That night, as the rescued children slept in the ruins, Selene dreamed.
She stood before a black throne carved of bone, rising high above a wasteland of ash. Upon it sat a figure cloaked in smoke, a crown of thorns burning upon his head. His eyes glowed with cold fire, and his voice was like iron scraping stone.
"So. The Lightbearer awakens."
Selene's heart thudded. "Who are you?"
He rose, towering, shadows swirling around him. "The rightful ruler of this realm. The suns are dying, the kingdoms rotting—and I will bind them to me, as it should have always been."
"You're destroying them," Selene said, voice trembling.
"I am saving them," the Wraith King hissed. "Only shadow endures. And you—" He leaned forward, his face half-formed, half-forgotten. "—are but a child playing empress. Do you think your light can burn forever?"
The crown of flame above her flared, answering.
The Wraith King recoiled with a snarl, shadows writhing. "Enjoy your borrowed glow while it lasts, little empress. When the suns fall, your world will fall with them."
Selene jolted awake, her breath ragged. The night was still. The children slept peacefully. Lyriel snored softly in a flower cup.
But Orien watched her from the firelight, his gaze sharp.
"You saw him, didn't you?" he asked quietly.
Selene swallowed. "Yes."
Orien's face darkened. "Then he already knows you're here."