The council chamber still felt heavy with the echoes of clashing voices. The scent of incense clung to the air, mingled with the sharper tang of unease. Serenya sat alone at the long table, the moonlight spilling through the tall arched windows behind her, painting her in silver hues. Her shoulders were drawn tight, as though the crown of Solareth weighed twice as much tonight.
Kaelen lingered at the edge of the chamber, his hand resting on the pommel of his blade. He had said little during the meeting, watching instead the faces of nobles who spoke of treaties and caution as though the Veilspawn were something to be reasoned with. But in their eyes, he had caught something else—shadows that did not belong to fear alone. Shadows that spoke of intent.
"They do not trust me," Serenya whispered finally, her voice soft but laced with bitterness.
Kaelen stepped closer, his boots silent on the marble floor. "Some are blind. Some are cowards. And a few…" His jaw tightened. "A few may already be traitors."
She looked up at him then, her amber eyes catching the moonlight like flame beneath glass. "You felt it too."
He nodded. "One of them avoids my gaze. Another's pulse raced not with fear, but guilt. And there was someone else… their words too polished, too deliberate. They were stalling."
Serenya rose, the delicate fabric of her gown whispering against the floor. "If betrayal is within these walls, then Solareth is weaker than even I feared." She turned to the window, looking out over the sprawling city where lanterns flickered like fireflies. "My people believe the council to be unshakable. If they knew its heart was rotting from within—"
"They would despair," Kaelen finished.
Silence lingered between them, thick as the night.
Finally, Kaelen said, "I will watch them. Quietly. Let the council think I am only your guardian, but I will find the one who conspires against you."
Her lips curved in something that was not quite a smile. "You would do that for me?"
"I swore to protect you, Serenya. That means from daggers in the dark as much as monsters from the Veil."
Something softened in her eyes. She turned fully to face him, stepping closer until only a breath separated them. For a moment, the weight of crown and prophecy seemed to lift, and she was only a woman standing before the man who guarded her life with his own.
"Then I trust you," she said, her voice low but certain.
The words settled between them, heavier than any oath.
The following nights in Solareth were restless. Murmurs ran through the streets of Veilspawn sightings near the northern forests. Merchants whispered of caravans ambushed in silence, their goods left untouched, their guards vanished. And within the castle itself, unease grew like ivy—quiet, creeping, wrapping around every corner.
Kaelen moved through these halls like a shadow, unseen, listening. He learned the servants whispered of late-night movements in the west wing—footsteps where no one was permitted after sundown. He marked faces in the council who avoided Serenya's gaze yet spoke of "peace" with the Veil as though it were possible.
One night, while most of the castle slept, Kaelen's sharp ears caught it—the faint scrape of a door closing too quickly, too quietly. He followed, his steps silent on the cold stone. The intruder moved swiftly, cloaked in black, their figure slim and sure.
They slipped into the library.
Kaelen followed, pressing into the shadows of towering shelves. The moonlight filtering through stained glass fell across the intruder's hands as they reached for something on a high shelf—a scroll sealed not in wax, but in silver thread.
Kaelen's heart lurched. That seal—he had seen it only once before, in the chamber of prophecy where Serenya first read his fate.
The intruder tucked the scroll into their cloak and turned to leave. Kaelen stepped from the shadows.
"Going somewhere?"
The figure froze, then whirled, a dagger flashing in their hand. Their hood fell back in the motion, revealing the face of Councilor Veradis—the same man who had argued most fiercely for appeasing the Veil. His eyes were wild now, stripped of political composure.
"You should not be here, boy," Veradis hissed. "This is beyond you."
"That scroll belongs to the crown," Kaelen said, drawing his blade. "And so does your loyalty."
Veradis sneered. "The crown is doomed. Serenya leads us into ruin. Only by bending to the Veil will Solareth survive."
Kaelen's grip tightened. "You speak of survival, but I see only cowardice. And betrayal."
Veradis lunged. His dagger darted quick as a serpent, but Kaelen met it with steel, sparks flaring in the moonlit library. The clash rang out, echoing through the shelves.
Though Kaelen's training far outmatched the councilor's, Veradis fought with the desperation of a man who had already burned his bridges. Their blades locked, and Veradis spat through gritted teeth, "You cannot stop what has already begun! The Veil is rising, and soon Solareth will kneel!"
With a twist and a shove, Kaelen disarmed him, the dagger clattering across the marble floor. Kaelen pressed his blade to the traitor's throat.
"Then kneel to me instead," Kaelen said coldly. "And pray your queen shows mercy."
Moments later, guards dragged Veradis through the halls, his wrists bound in iron. Serenya met them in her chamber, her face pale but resolute. When Kaelen tossed the stolen scroll onto her desk, she stared at it with wide eyes.
"This… this is the Scroll of Union," she breathed. "It was kept hidden, locked away even from most of the council. Only my father and the high seers knew its place."
"What does it say?" Kaelen asked.
Her hands trembled slightly as she broke the silver thread. She unrolled the parchment, eyes scanning the faded script. Her lips parted in disbelief.
"It speaks of… of two souls bound across worlds. One of twilight, one of dawn. Together, they form the key to the Veil's undoing."
Her gaze lifted to him, unreadable, yet filled with something fierce.
Kaelen's pulse quickened. "And you believe—?"
"I do not believe, Kaelen," Serenya interrupted softly, her voice shaking. "I know. This speaks of us."
The chamber fell silent, the words heavy, undeniable.
At last, Kaelen said, "Then Veradis was not merely betraying Solareth. He was trying to shatter the prophecy itself."
Serenya's eyes hardened. "And he is not alone. Others will follow him. Perhaps others already have."
She closed the scroll with trembling hands, as though sealing away fate itself.
"Then let them come," Kaelen said, his voice steady. "For as long as I stand, no hand raised against you will prevail."
Her eyes glistened in the candlelight. "You speak as though you were forged for this."
"Maybe I was," he murmured.
And though the weight of prophecy pressed down on them both, for a fleeting moment in that chamber, with betrayal unmasked and destiny unveiled, their hearts beat as one.
The whispers of betrayal did not die with Veradis's capture. If anything, they grew louder, more insidious. Somewhere in the castle, in the city beyond, others stirred, emboldened by one man's fall. And though Serenya and Kaelen now held a fragment of prophecy in their hands, they also held the knowledge that Solareth's greatest enemies might not be the monsters at its gates—
but the traitors within.