I dreamed of fire.
It swallowed the palace towers, painted the skies crimson, and turned the rivers to steam. In the middle of it all stood my brother — his crown burning brighter than the sun, his sword raised high as people bowed in fear, not loyalty. He looked at me through the flames and smiled, the same way he did the night I died.
When I woke, the garden was trembling.
The air carried the taste of metal and rain. The spirits were uneasy — I could feel their murmurs inside me, their thoughts brushing against mine like restless birds. The crown at my side pulsed faintly, and the runes that slept upon its broken surface glowed one by one, warning of something unseen.
Seris appeared first, her form rippling like mist in a storm. "The omen has come sooner than we expected," she said softly.
"What omen?" I asked, rising to my feet.
"The Blood Moon," she whispered. "It marks the night when the veil between the realms weakens. Spirits walk freely. The living dream what the dead remember. And the throne awakens to seek its true bearer."
I looked at the sky. The sun had barely risen, yet already I could see a faint red circle clinging to its edges. My heart clenched. "Then I don't have much time."
Seris nodded. "No. The moon will rise tonight. Before it fades, you must complete the bond."
"The bond?"
She stepped closer, her spectral eyes reflecting the pale light. "You carry our oaths, but not our strength. The Blood Moon will give you the chance to seal it. Once done, your spirit will be tied to ours — forever. You will wield our power, and our grief."
I hesitated. "And if I fail?"
Her voice dimmed. "Then you will fade. Again."
I turned away from her, staring into the distance where the ruins of the palace slept beneath the hills. The memory of my brother's blade still haunted my ribs. The garden's calm could not protect me forever.
"I will not fade," I said at last. "Not again."
Seris smiled faintly. "Then prepare yourself, daughter of Aravelle. Tonight, the Blood Moon will test your will."
By dusk, the garden no longer felt like mine. The air had thickened, charged with something heavy and ancient. The vines coiled tighter around the stone arches, and the flowers that had bloomed that morning now bowed their heads in silence.
One by one, the spirits gathered. Kael, the armored guardian, stood at my right — his form sharper now, almost solid. Around him appeared others: a priestess with no eyes, a child wearing a crown of thorns, a king whose body was wrapped in the faint echo of flames. They formed a circle around me, their faces solemn, their gazes heavy with memory.
"The moon rises," Kael said, his deep voice carrying through the mist.
I lifted my eyes. The sky burned red. The moon hung above us like a wound in the heavens, bleeding light into the garden. My chest tightened as I felt the energy pulse through me — warm, painful, alive.
Seris stepped forward and placed her hand upon the crown. The runes blazed, filling the night with golden fire. "Elara of Aravelle," she intoned, her voice echoing like a thousand overlapping tones, "do you swear to bear the pain of the fallen, to uphold the justice of the forgotten, and to let the whispers guide your hand?"
"I swear," I said, my voice trembling but sure.
"Do you accept the price of power — the burden of every soul that will call your name in vengeance and sorrow?"
I hesitated, feeling the spirits press closer. Their pain flowed into me like cold water. I wanted to turn away, to let it all fade. But then I remembered the night of my death — the fire in my brother's eyes, the silence of the crown, the helplessness that had crushed me.
"I accept."
The moment the words left my lips, the ground erupted in light.
The spirits cried out — not in fear, but in release. Their forms broke apart into streams of energy, each rushing toward me. I gasped as they passed through my chest, my arms, my veins, until I could no longer tell where they ended and I began. Their memories flooded me: the battles they lost, the betrayals they suffered, the crowns they once bore.
I fell to my knees, clutching my head. Every heartbeat felt like thunder. The voices of the dead roared within me — thousands of them, crying, whispering, pleading.
"Elara," Seris's voice broke through the storm, faint but firm. "You must control it. The power will consume you if you resist. Let it flow, do not fight it."
I forced myself to breathe. Slowly. Deeply.
The air shimmered around me, golden threads weaving through the red light of the moon. I felt my pulse slow, the chaos inside me quieting until the whispers became words — not screams of pain, but murmurs of strength.
When I opened my eyes, the garden was glowing. Every flower, every leaf, every broken stone shimmered with the light of the spirits. I rose slowly, the crown hovering before me, now whole again — its cracks sealed by the light of their oaths.
Seris looked at me with awe. "It is done. The bond is complete."
I reached out and touched the crown. It was warm, alive. "I can feel them," I whispered. "All of them."
"The Blood Moon chose well," Kael said quietly. "But beware, princess. With power comes the pull of the throne. You are tied to its will now. The closer you draw to it, the more it will test your soul."
I nodded. "Then I will be ready."
The wind stirred, carrying the faint echo of drums — not from this world, but from the one I had left behind. It was distant, hollow, yet unmistakable: the rhythm of marching soldiers.
I turned toward the hills. There, beyond the fog, faint fires flickered — torches, spreading through the ruins like veins of flame. My heart sank.
"Aric," I whispered. "He is moving his armies."
Seris's expression darkened. "Then the omen was not only for your bond. The Blood Moon has awakened him too."
The garden's light dimmed as the moon began to fade, its red glow softening to pale silver. The spirits retreated, their forms dissolving into the night once more, leaving me standing alone with the crown in my hands.
I looked at its surface and saw not just my reflection — but the faint shimmer of hundreds of faces behind me, waiting. Watching.
For the first time, I didn't feel like a ghost. I felt alive.
The whispers returned, gentle and steady. We are with you, Elara. The throne remembers.
I closed my eyes and breathed in the night. The scent of blood, earth, and destiny filled my lungs.
"I will return," I said softly. "And when I do, Aravelle will kneel — not in fear, but in remembrance."
The wind carried my words across the ruins like a vow.
And beneath the fading light of the Blood Moon, I began my journey back to the kingdom that had killed me.