The sun had dipped low, setting the cliffs around the Temple of Dawn aflame with a final wash of crimson light. Serenya stood upon the balcony of the sanctuary's inner hall, staring out at the horizon where darkness crept like ink spilled upon parchment. Every breath she drew was heavy, every heartbeat echoing with the words of the prophecy: light or night, crown or ruin.
Her hands trembled as she gripped the stone railing. It wasn't the chill of the mountain winds that unsettled her—it was the weight of the priests' eyes. Even here, among holy walls, she could feel their judgment. Some bowed to her as though she were chosen; others recoiled as if she carried plague.
Behind her, the deep voice of the High Seer filled the hall.
"You carry both salvation and damnation in your veins, Twilight Child. The Dawn will not look kindly if we shelter you, should the prophecy fall to ruin."
Serenya turned, her emerald eyes glinting with defiance. "And if you cast me out, what then? Do you think Malrik will spare your temple once he learns you denied me refuge?"
The High Seer's silence was answer enough.
Kaelen paced the chamber, the glow of his Dawn Seal flickering faintly against the walls. His jaw was tight, his gaze never leaving Serenya. The priests had made their expectations clear: abandon her, lead them as the Seal Bearer, and stand as the bulwark against the darkness.
But Kaelen's heart twisted with the thought. He remembered the vision in the trial—Serenya in the arms of the Herald, Solareth aflame, his blade broken. The prophecy demanded choices, but his soul refused to betray her.
"She is not the enemy," Kaelen said finally, his voice like iron. "If the Dawn cannot see that, then its light has grown blind."
Several priests hissed in outrage, but Serenya felt a rush of warmth at his words, though fear shadowed her heart.
Word spread quickly beyond the temple walls. Refugees had begun arriving from border towns, their faces pale with terror. They spoke of shadow-beasts stalking the night, of neighbors dragged screaming into the Veil. Yet among their whispers, Serenya's name surfaced like venom.
"She's the Herald's bride."
"The princess carries the night in her blood."
"If she stays, the temple will fall."
The murmurs reached even the ears of Lyra, who lingered at the edge of the great hall, torn between fury and despair. That evening, a courier slipped her a sealed parchment bearing her family's crest. With shaking hands, she opened it under torchlight.
Daughter, the message read, abandon the traitor. Come home before you share her fate. Malrik's decree stands: Serenya must die.
Lyra's vision blurred with tears, but her resolve hardened. She crushed the letter in her fist and whispered to herself, "No. My loyalty is to her. To us."
Night descended swift and merciless. The stars, usually a solace to Serenya, seemed smothered beneath the shroud of the Veil. A messenger stumbled into the sanctuary, bloodied and panting.
"They've broken through the eastern pass," he gasped. "A host of shadow-creatures… and something worse. A figure cloaked in black fire leads them. The gates will not hold long."
Panic swept through the temple. Priests scrambled to rally defenses, their chants echoing as protective wards flared to life along the walls.
Serenya's pulse thundered. The Herald—already here? It was too soon.
Kaelen's hand found the hilt of his blade, the golden runes of the Dawn Seal pulsing with readiness. He glanced at Serenya, their eyes locking in a silent vow.
"Together," he said.
She nodded, though her stomach twisted with dread. Together—but would together be enough?
The first wave struck with fury. Shadow-beasts, their bodies like smoke woven into flesh, hurled themselves at the temple's outer gates. Arrows laced with holy fire rained from the battlements, burning holes into their forms, but still they came, clawing, howling.
Lyra fought beside the priests, her staff glowing with protective sigils as she shielded wounded defenders. Sweat plastered her hair to her forehead, but her resolve burned bright.
Serenya drew her blade, the steel humming with faint echoes of the Veil. Each strike was swift and unerring, yet every kill left a bitter taste. These monsters felt familiar, as though threads of her own essence wove through their forms.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Kaelen—unstoppable, a storm of light and steel, cutting swaths through the creatures. He fought not as a warrior bound by duty, but as a man protecting what he loved.
Still, the longer the battle raged, the more relentless the shadows became. Every fallen beast seemed to spawn two more, the ground itself shuddering beneath the tide of darkness. The protective wards dimmed under the strain, their holy fire flickering.
And then the world seemed to still.
The shadows parted, and from the veil of darkness stepped a figure wreathed in black fire. His presence sucked the warmth from the air, his eyes burning with abyssal light. Every voice faltered. Every flame flickered low.
The Herald of Night.
Serenya's breath caught in her throat. She had seen him in visions, but reality was far more terrible. His voice rolled across the battlefield, smooth as silk and sharp as steel.
"Dawn's little sanctuary… how quaint. And here lies my runaway bride."
The words struck Serenya like a blade. Gasps rippled through the defenders. Eyes that once held doubt now burned with accusation.
Kaelen stepped forward, his sword blazing. "You'll not touch her!"
The Herald chuckled, a sound that made the stones tremble. "Oh, Seal Bearer… I don't need to touch her. She will come to me of her own will."
As he raised his hand, black fire coiled into the sky, blotting out the moon itself. The wards shattered like glass under the weight of his power. Defenders screamed as the second wave of shadow poured through the breach.
Serenya gripped her blade tighter, her heart hammering. She could feel it—the pull of the Veil within her, resonating with the Herald's power. It was like a song, haunting and irresistible, calling her name.
For the first time, she feared not the shadows outside the gates, but the darkness blooming within herself.