The temple's marble walls trembled beneath the weight of the onslaught. Shadow-beasts slammed against the outer gates, their claws raking through sacred wards that once had never faltered. Priests screamed invocations, casting beams of light that split the dark, but for every monster burned away, three more slipped through the fractures in the Veil.
Kaelen's sword was a river of steel and fire. He cut through the beasts as though he were cleaving nightmares themselves, the Seal of Dawn blazing bright across his chest. Each strike left an arc of light, and yet for every victory, exhaustion gnawed deeper at his bones.
Serenya stood at the temple steps, her bow trembling in her hands. She loosed arrow after arrow of pure starlight, but her gaze was not on the battlefield. It was locked on the figure that had emerged beyond the gates.
The Herald.
He strode through the chaos like a sovereign of ruin, his cloak of black fire trailing behind him, every step unraveling the ground into ash. Where his shadow fell, the temple's wards withered, as though the very stones bent in reverence—or terror. His face was hidden beneath a helm of twisted onyx, but his voice carried across the battlefield, deep and resonant, striking directly into the marrow of all who heard.
"Daughter of light… do you hear me?"
Serenya staggered back as the words pressed against her skull. They weren't sound; they were thought, invasive and intimate.
"Stay out of my head!" she gasped, loosing another arrow. It streaked toward the Herald, blazing silver, only to vanish as it neared him, swallowed whole by a coil of shadow.
His laughter rolled like thunder.
"You cannot deny me. The Veil recognizes its own. You are its chosen, whether you embrace it or not."
Kaelen surged forward, his blade igniting with the Seal's radiance. "Stay away from her!" he roared, closing the distance in a storm of light.
Steel clashed against shadow. Kaelen's sword struck the Herald's gauntlet, sparks bursting as light and darkness warred. For an instant, the temple courtyard glowed like the sun. But then—the Herald raised his free hand and pressed against Kaelen's chest.
A shockwave erupted. Kaelen was hurled back, crashing through a pillar that splintered under his weight. Blood sprayed from his lips, and the Seal burned so fiercely it cracked the skin around it.
"Kaelen!" Serenya cried, rushing toward him, but the Herald's presence loomed closer.
Chains of black fire uncoiled from his body, snaking through the air like living serpents. They lashed toward her, coiling around her wrists and ankles before she could leap away. She screamed as the heat seared into her flesh—not burning skin, but burrowing into her soul.
The chains tightened, lifting her off the ground. Her bow fell from her hand, clattering across the marble.
"Do you feel it?" the Herald whispered into her mind. "This is not pain. This is awakening."
Serenya thrashed, but the chains only bound her tighter. The shadows seeped into her veins, igniting a strange fire within. For one fleeting heartbeat, she felt power—raw, infinite, intoxicating.
"No," she hissed, forcing herself to resist. "I won't… become yours."
The Herald chuckled.
"You already are."
The priests shouted prayers, casting their brightest spells toward him, but the Herald ignored them as though they were gnats. Several broke ranks, hesitating as they saw the chains around Serenya. Whispers spread like wildfire.
"She is bound…"
"The prophecy… it's true!"
"She belongs to him…"
The weight of their doubt struck Serenya harder than the chains themselves. These were her people, sworn to the light, yet their eyes filled with suspicion. Her chest clenched. If they abandoned her now—if they saw her as the enemy—then everything she had sacrificed meant nothing.
A surge of fury erupted from the battlefield. Lyra stood at the steps, her staff blazing with green flame. "Enough!" she shouted. "You will not take her!"
She slammed her staff into the ground, vines of emerald light snaking outward, wrapping around Serenya's chains. The shadows hissed, recoiling. Lyra's voice shook but did not falter: "I stand with the princess. Always."
Serenya's breath hitched. Even now, when doubt infected every corner, Lyra's loyalty was unbroken.
The Herald tilted his head, regarding the handmaiden with amusement.
"Loyalty is admirable. Futile, but admirable."
The chains tightened again, dragging Serenya higher. Kaelen staggered back to his feet, blood dripping from his brow. He raised his sword once more, though his knees trembled. "Let her go!" he roared.
With a cry, he leapt toward the Herald, blade flashing. But the Herald caught the strike between two fingers. The light sputtered, crushed.
The Seal of Dawn flared in Kaelen's chest, brighter than ever before—then cracked, hairline fractures spreading like shattered glass across his skin. Agony ripped through him, but he held on, teeth gritted, refusing to let go.
"Kaelen!" Serenya's voice tore from her throat. The sight of him—broken, bleeding, refusing to yield—ignited something deep within her.
Her fear twisted into resolve.
The Herald's chains burned against her flesh, but she no longer fought against them. Instead, she reached inward, toward the strange fire coursing through her veins. The shadows within her pulsed, wild and unclaimed.
If he thinks I am his… then I will show him I am not.
With a scream, she willed the shadows to obey—not as his servant, but as her weapon.
The chains around her wrists erupted into black fire, then shattered into fragments. Power surged from her chest, a tidal wave of dark flame. It exploded outward, slamming into the Herald with such force that his cloak of fire wavered. His form staggered, cracks spreading across his helm.
The battlefield froze.
Priests stared in horror as Serenya descended from the air, her eyes glowing with black light, her body cloaked in shadows that bent unnaturally around her. Even Kaelen, his sword still raised, faltered at the sight.
The Herald laughed, even as his form wavered, his voice rich with triumph.
"Yes. At last. That is my bride."
Serenya's chest heaved, her hands trembling as she struggled to contain the power. She wanted to scream that she was not his—that she would never be his. But the looks on the faces around her told another story.
Fear. Suspicion. Doubt.
Only Lyra's gaze remained steadfast. And Kaelen's—though filled with pain—still carried something else. Not fear. Not doubt. But sorrow.
The Herald straightened, his form already knitting back together. "This is only the beginning," he promised, his voice echoing through the temple like a curse. With a final wave of shadow, he and his army dissolved into the Veil, leaving silence in their wake.
Serenya collapsed to her knees, her breath ragged. The shadows receded slowly, leaving her trembling and hollow. She looked up, searching Kaelen's eyes.
But around them, the priests whispered.
"She used the Veil…"
"She carries its power…"
"She will doom us all."
The temple that had once been her refuge now seemed filled with enemies.
And the words of the Herald lingered in her ears like a brand:
My bride.