Chapter 1 The Night My Destiny Caught Fire
The first time my mark burned, it felt like someone pressed a star against my skin.
A sharp, white hot pulse woke me long before dawn. For a moment, I could not move. I could not breathe. The mark normally faint, nearly invisible glowed through the sheets like molten gold. My bedroom lit up with a trembling, unnatural light, painting my walls in ripples of amber flame.
"No… no, not today," I whispered, clutching my forearm.
But fate, destiny, prophecy, whatever cruel force governed the Lumen Mark did not care about my preferences.
I slapped my palm over the blazing sigil as if I could smother the light with sheer will. It was pointless. The mark pulsed harder, a living heartbeat beneath my skin.
Not today. Please, not today.
Of course, it was today.
My twenty first birthday.
The age the prophecy warned about.
The age the Shadow King hunted for.
And the age the village feared would expose me.
I pushed myself out of bed, shaking from the intensity of the burn, and stumbled to the water bowl near my window. Splashing cold water over the mark did nothing but send steam curling into the air.
Panic rose in my throat.
If anyone saw this
If the soldiers patrolling for marked women sensed this
If the kings ravens flew overhead like they did during the last selection
I was finished.
I grabbed my cloak and wrapped the sleeve tight over my arm, but the glow seeped through the fabric like sunlight through thin paper. I cursed softly and tied it tighter.
Outside, the sky was still deep purple. Morning was a few hours away. A faint mist rolled across the fields, shifting like ghosts searching for a place to rest. My breath gathered in small clouds as I slipped out of my door and hurried toward the one person who might help me hide this.
Grandmother.
Her cottage sat at the edge of the village, half swallowed by wild vines and old legends. People avoided her not because she was dangerous, but because she carried truths no one wanted to hear.
I knocked once.
The door opened before my fist landed the second time.
"I felt it," she said.
Her grey eyes, sharp as winter rain, swept to my covered arm. She stepped aside in silent invitation.
Inside, her cottage smelled of healing herbs, smoke, and something older. Something ancient. Shelves stacked with jars, scrolls, and carved symbols lined the walls. A single candle flickered beside her pot, though I knew she never lit it. Fire obeyed her. All elements did.
But my mark… it listened to no one.
She took my arm without asking. Gently.
When she pulled back the cloth and saw the blazing sigil, she exhaled long and slow.
"It has awakened," she murmured.
"I know."
"It should not have awakened this early."
I swallowed. "Grandmother… it waits for a specific age, does it not And this is the age."
She closed her eyes. "Yes. And that means only one thing."
A cold shiver wrapped around my spine.
"The king," I whispered.
Grandmother nodded. "The Shadow Court will send soldiers before sunrise. The selection summons will come. And when they do…" Her voice lowered. "They will take you."
My heartbeat faltered.
I had always known this day could come. But hope is a stubborn thing, clinging, grasping, insisting that stories meant for nightmares could not possibly be meant for me.
But hope was nowhere to be found this morning.
The mark burned brighter and brighter, filling the room with shimmering gold light.
Grandmother stepped closer. "There may still be a way to hide it."
My breath caught. "Tell me."
She brushed her fingers over the mark, her touch cool, soothing. Her voice lowered into the steady tone she only used during spellwork.
"Lumen marks respond to emotion, Arienne. They reveal the truth under your skin. If you feel too much, fear, joy, anger, it will glow like a beacon."
"So… what do I do"
"You must numb your emotions," she said simply. "Completely. You must become unreadable, even to yourself."
I stared at her. "How am I supposed to do that"
Her eyes softened. "You must want to survive more than you want to feel."
I bit my lip hard. "And if I cannot"
She hesitated.
And that hesitation said everything.
Before I could press further, the earth trembled beneath our feet.
A distant boom echoed across the valley.
Grandmother stiffened.
She rushed to the window, peered through the herb stained glass, and cursed under her breath.
"What is it" I whispered.
She turned to me slowly.
"It is too late."
The sound grew louder, hooves pounding, armored wheels grinding against earth, chains clinking. The mist outside trembled with every vibration.
I raised the edge of the curtain.
My breath caught.
A black carriage rolled into the village square, pulled by four massive shadow steeds, horses with silver eyes and leaking wisps of darkness from their manes. Behind it marched soldiers in armor as dark as obsidian, their faces hidden behind horned helms.
The Royal Selection.
For the first time in ten years it had returned.
And on my birthday.
Grandmother pulled me sharply from the window.
"Listen to me, Arienne," she whispered fiercely. "You must stay absolutely still. Quiet. Hide here while I"
A single knock thundered against the door.
No one in the village would dare knock on Grandmothers door like that.
Only one group would.
"Open," a voice commanded from outside. Deep, cold, unquestioning. "By order of the Shadow Court."
My heart slammed against my ribs. I backed away from the door, stumbling over a basket of herbs. Grandmothers face drained of color.
There was no time to hide. No time to smother the mark. No time to numb myself. The light leaking from my sleeve brightened even more with fear.
The door burst open.
Two soldiers stepped inside, towering, faceless behind their helms. One pointed his spear at me immediately.
"That one," he said. "She glows."
My pulse dropped.
Grandmother stepped forward. "Wait, she is sick, she is fevered, she cannot travel"
"By royal decree," the soldier barked, "all marked women of age are required to be presented at the Shadow Court. Resist and you will be executed under law."
Grandmothers face hardened with fury, but she said nothing more.
I did not struggle when they seized my arms. Perhaps part of me already understood resisting would only make things worse.
The soldiers dragged me outside into the freezing morning air.
Villagers peeked from behind windows and half open doors, fear etched into their faces. No one tried to intervene. No one ever did when the Shadow Court arrived.
The carriage door opened, revealing a dark interior lit by flickering runes. One soldier shoved me inside. I stumbled onto the cushioned seat, my hands trembling.
As the door slammed shut behind me, a final thought echoed in my mind:
I will never see home again.
The carriage jolted forward.
The journey was long, silent, and suffocating.
The inside of the carriage was lined with shifting shadows, actual shadows that moved on their own, curling like black flames. I pressed myself against the far door, trying to avoid touching them.
They felt like cold breath on my skin.
The air thickened with magic. Old magic. Dangerous magic.
Every now and then, I caught faint whispers blending with the sound of the wheels.
She will awaken
She is the one
The king will know
The king.
The Shadow King.
The ruler of Noctus Realm.
The immortal sovereign whose soul had supposedly withered centuries ago.
The man rumored to kill his own brides.
The man feared by nations.
The man tied to the prophecy that haunted my birth.
I swallowed hard, trying not to think of his cruelty.
The mark warmed beneath my sleeve. Not the painful heat from earlier, something gentler, like a slow ember.
This frightened me even more.
"What do you want from me" I whispered to the mark.
It flared gently.
As if answering.
Hours later, the carriage slowed.
A deep horn blared through the air, long, echoing, mournful.
I peeked through the tiny slit in the wall.
And my breath stopped.
The Shadow Court was carved into an obsidian mountain, a fortress of black stone, spires twisting like claws toward a stormy sky. Rivers of dark magic flowed through channels along the walls, glowing faintly purple. Ravens circled the tallest tower, their cries sharp enough to cut the wind.
Anyone would fear the place.
But the strangest thing
The moment I saw it, my heart flipped violently in my chest. As if something inside me recognized it. Called to it.
No.
This was not possible.
The mark warmed again. Stronger.
Instant attraction.
Forbidden attraction.
To what
To whom
The carriage gates opened with a groaning rumble.
Soldiers surrounded the entrance.
I expected to be herded with other girls. Instead, they pulled me from the carriage alone and led me straight through the enormous iron doors of the palace.
We entered a grand hall lined with tall statues of past kings, each one sculpted in obsidian and silver. My breath fogged from the cold air.
At the far end of the hall stood a throne of black crystal.
And on it
A man.
I froze.
He was shadow and light woven into one.
Tall. Immortal. Dangerously beautiful.
His hair was ink black, falling in loose strands over a face carved with sharp, cold perfection. His eyes, gods, his eyes, glowed like silver moons, emotionless yet burning. He wore a cloak of dark velvet, fastened by a crescent shaped brooch, and armor that shimmered like starlight on water.
King Ravsyn.
The Shadow King.
My chest tightened painfully.
The attraction hit instantly, sharp, electric, terrifying. My mark blazed beneath my sleeve, reacting as if I had been pulled into a magnetic storm.
And worst of all
His eyes snapped to me the second I entered.
Not to the soldiers.
Not to the others in the hall.
To me.
Like he had been waiting.
Like he felt the spark too.
I heard him inhale, barely.
The soldiers shoved me forward, but I barely felt their push. My body felt like smoke, drifting toward him despite every instinct screaming to run.
He stood.
I stopped breathing.
He descended the steps of the throne slowly, each movement controlled, predatory, impossibly graceful. His gaze did not break from mine even for a moment.
When he reached me, he lifted his hand.
The soldiers dropped to their knees.
He did not speak to them.
Instead, he said my name.
"Arienne."
Hearing my name in his voice, low, rich, resonant, sent a ripple of heat through my chest.
"How… How do you know my name"
He reached out, his fingers brushing the sleeve hiding my mark. The light flared beneath the fabric. His eyes widened, just barely, but the reaction was there.
And then he spoke the words that changed everything.
"You belong to me."
Gasps echoed across the hall.
The soldiers stiffened. A few palace attendants dropped what they were holding. Even the shadows on the walls seemed to quiver.
No one was personally chosen by the Shadow King.
He had taken queens before, but never by singling one girl out in front of the court. Never like this.
I swallowed hard, my voice thin. "Your Majesty… I do not even know why I am here."
He stepped closer.
Too close.
I felt the cold aura radiating from him like winter air wrapped in velvet.
"You are here because the mark called to me."
My breath caught. "You… felt it"
His eyes darkened like storm clouds. "Every pulse."
I took a shaky step back.
Instant attraction twisted into instant fear.
"If your mark awakened," he continued softly, "then prophecy demands you stand before me."
Prophecy.
The word tasted bitter.
"I do not belong to anyone," I whispered.
He tilted his head slightly. "No Then why does your body react to mine"
My face burned. "It does not."
"It does."
Confident. Certain. Dangerous.
"It does not," I said again, voice trembling.
He reached for my sleeve. "Then remove this."
"I… I cannot."
His eyes glinted. "Then I will."
Before I could protest, his fingers brushed my sleeve, pulling it back with firm, quiet control.
The mark blazed so brightly the entire hall lit up with gold light.
The Shadow King inhaled sharply.
Something raw flashed across his face.
Possession.
Recognition.
Desire.
"This…" he whispered, voice dropping to a reverent murmur. "This is impossible."
"It is not what you think"
He caught my wrist, turning my arm toward him.
The contact jolted through me like lightning.
Instant attraction.
Forbidden.
Dangerous.
The mark pulsed under his touch, responding to him like a heartbeat answering another.
He looked at me, gaze burning. "Arienne… this is the Lumen Mark of the Bride."
My blood froze. "Bride"
"Yes," he said quietly. "Bride of the Shadow King."
My knees weakened. "No. No, I"
He leaned close enough for his breath to ghost over my cheek.
"You are mine."
Thunder cracked outside.
Wind howled through the hall.
The shadows trembled.
And my heart
my betraying, trembling heart
answered him.
The Forbidden Bond
I stood frozen, heart hammering, my mark blazing like a star against my skin, and his silver eyes drilled into me as if they could see every thought I had ever tried to hide. The entire hall seemed to fade around us. Soldiers, attendants, shadows, all dissolved into silence, leaving only him and me. Every instinct screamed to pull away, to run, to deny what I felt, but my body betrayed me. My mark pulsed, responding to him, to his presence, to some invisible pull I could neither see nor resist.
"You feel it too," I whispered, though my voice barely carried. I did not dare hope that the king could feel desire, yet I sensed it in the way his gaze lingered, in the subtle shift of his stance, in the way the air around him thickened with tension.
He did not answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, slow, deliberate, closing the space between us until I could feel the faint warmth of him despite the cold air that seemed to cling to his form. His hand hovered just above mine, hesitant, testing boundaries I had no power to enforce. The mark beneath my sleeve flared at his nearness, a warning and an invitation all at once.
"Do not touch me," I said, my voice firmer than I felt. Fear mingled with an undeniable pull that made my knees weak. My mark burned like molten gold beneath my skin, betraying every word I spoke.
He smiled, faint, enigmatic, a dangerous curve of lips that promised both pain and ecstasy. "It is not for you to command," he said quietly. "The mark chooses. I merely respond."
A shiver ran through me. Every nerve in my body seemed alight, every thought clouded by the gravity of his presence. Instant attraction had always been dangerous in the stories. Now I understood why. It was as though the very air around us was charged with electricity, each heartbeat echoing like a drum in the cavernous hall. I wanted to resist. I wanted to fight. But the pull was undeniable.
"You will not touch me," I said again, though my voice quavered.
He leaned closer, close enough that I could feel the faint brush of his breath against my cheek. "I do not need to," he whispered. "Your body answers for you."
The mark flared again, responding to his words, responding to him. My vision blurred with the intensity of it. I stumbled back, almost colliding with one of the statues lining the hall, my hands pressed against my chest as if I could contain the fire blazing within me.
The king did not move. He did not advance. He simply watched, measured, and waited, letting me feel the pull of our bond without forcing it. It was the most terrifying thing I had ever experienced. It was also the most thrilling.
"You are mine," he said again, and this time there was no question in his voice, only certainty.
I wanted to argue, to deny it, to run. But the words caught in my throat. The heat of the mark beneath my sleeve spread to my whole body, and I realized that even if I tried to resist, it would be futile. I had been chosen. Not by him alone, but by the very force that had marked me from birth. And it demanded that I answer.
Later, after the hall had cleared and the shadows retreated to their corners, the king did something unexpected. He commanded the soldiers to leave us alone and gestured for me to follow him into a smaller chamber at the rear of the throne room. The room was lined with obsidian mirrors that reflected our images infinitely, casting a thousand versions of us across the walls. Candles burned on silver stands, their flames flickering but not dimming the glow of my mark. In the center of the room, he motioned for me to sit on a low velvet chair.
I obeyed, though my hands trembled. My mark pulsed beneath my sleeve, reacting to his proximity even in this enclosed space. He did not sit. He remained standing, silent, watching me as if he were trying to decipher my soul.
"You are aware," he began, voice low, "that your mark is not merely a sign. It is a summons. A prophecy."
I swallowed. "I know some of the stories. That it will choose the bride of the Shadow King. That it can determine the fate of the realm."
He nodded. "It is more than that. The mark responds to truth, to power, to desire. It will burn when emotion cannot be contained. It will flare when destiny demands it. You were chosen before you were even born."
I felt my chest tighten. "Then everything I have ever known was a lie. I was never safe. I was never free."
His eyes softened, just slightly, though the intensity remained. "Freedom is an illusion. But even illusions can be managed if you understand the rules. The mark will guide you. But you must learn to listen. Not just to it, but to the power it draws."
"What power?" I whispered.
He hesitated, just barely, and in that pause I saw a flicker of something human. Vulnerability. Something buried deep beneath the shadows he wore like armor. "The power to change the course of life and death," he said finally. "To choose. To destroy. To create. You are not merely the bride of the Shadow King. You are the fulcrum on which the world may tilt."
I could not process it. My head spun. The mark beneath my sleeve flared again, answering to his words, answering to him. The heat seemed to seep into my veins, my body, my very being. "And if I refuse?" I asked, though even as I said it, I knew the answer.
He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him, and yet far enough that the command in his stance kept me trembling with fear and desire. "Refusal is not an option," he said quietly. "The mark does not allow it. And neither do I."
I realized then that I was caught between fear and fascination, between desire and survival, and that the two were impossible to untangle. The instant attraction I felt was forbidden, dangerous, and inevitable all at once. My body answered for me, but my mind screamed to resist. My heart betrayed me with every thrum of the Lumen Mark, every flicker of gold beneath my sleeve.
The First Twist Someone Else Feels the Mark Too
Days passed in the Shadow Court, though I had no sense of time. The palace was alive with shadows and secrets, with servants who whispered, eyes that followed, and corridors that shifted as if alive. I had begun to learn the rules, to mask my fear while my mark still pulsed at forbidden levels whenever he was near. The attraction between us was electric, dangerous, impossible to ignore. Yet it was not the only revelation.
One evening, as I practiced walking the halls alone, I felt a presence. Subtle, almost imperceptible, but undeniable. Another pulse answered mine. Another mark flared in response. My heart raced. That should have been impossible. The Lumen Mark responded only to the Shadow King. It should have been bound to him alone.
I turned the corner and saw him. A young guard, tall, dark haired, eyes that shimmered with curiosity and something deeper. He froze when our eyes met. My mark blazed brightly beneath my sleeve as if recognizing him, and I realized with horror and fascination that he could feel it. He could feel me.
He stepped forward, cautiously, hesitant, yet drawn as irresistibly to the mark as I was to the king. "I… I do not understand," he said, voice low, almost trembling. "The mark… it calls to me."
Instantly, I knew the first twist of my new life. The mark was not only for the Shadow King. Someone else, someone I could not yet trust, had been drawn into this dangerous game. The forbidden attraction, the prophecy, the power all became more complicated, more dangerous. I had survived so far because I had only been mine to control. Now I realized that control was an illusion. The mark had more players than I had imagined, and each choice could mean death or desire, love or betrayal.
I looked into the young man's eyes and felt the pull of fate tightening around me, unyielding, unstoppable, inescapable. The Shadow King, the prophecy, the mark, the attraction, the secrets they all converged in that moment. And I understood with chilling clarity that nothing in my life had prepared me for what was coming next.
The Ceremony of Shadows
The morning of the selection ceremony arrived with a weight I could not describe. The entire palace seemed to hum with anticipation, shadows stretching and twisting along the obsidian floors as if alive. Soldiers lined the corridors, their polished armor reflecting the faint light of my mark. I could feel every gaze on me, but none as piercing as his. King Ravsyn had not left the throne room. He watched from above, silent, unwavering, his silver eyes like twin moons against the darkness of the hall.
The attendants dressed me in ceremonial robes, black silk embroidered with threads of gold that mirrored the color of my mark. Every stitch seemed designed to emphasize what I could not hide. The higher the silk rose against my throat, the stronger the pulse of the mark beneath it. I wanted to run, to scream, to melt into the shadows of the hall, but my body betrayed me with every heartbeat that called to him.
"You are ready," one of the palace attendants said, voice quiet, trembling almost with awe. She did not touch me again, though I could feel her hesitation. The mark flared briefly at her presence, and I realized the palace itself was alive with it. Everything was aware. Everything would witness the bond I could not escape.
The doors opened, revealing the main throne hall. Light filtered in through tall windows, pale and eerie against the black stone walls. The scent of incense burned through the air, thick and clinging. Soldiers and nobles had gathered, and the tension in the room pressed against me like the walls themselves. And at the far end, on his throne of black crystal, he waited. Not for ceremony. Not for protocol. He waited for me.
I walked forward, robes brushing the floor, every step measured, every heartbeat pounding like a drum in my chest. The mark burned hotter with every pace, and I could feel the invisible pull toward him, stronger than anything I had ever known. Instinctively, I raised my head, met his gaze, and froze. For an instant, the world narrowed to him alone. The hall, the attendants, the shadows, the whispers—they all disappeared. There was only him, only the mark, and the forbidden attraction that had been growing since the moment I had entered the palace.
The king rose from his throne. Every motion commanded attention, but to me it was as if he had reached into my soul and pulled me forward. "Arienne," he said, voice low and resonant, carrying through the silent hall. "Step closer."
I obeyed, though my hands shook. The heat of my mark spread through my body, responding to him as if it had always belonged to him. My robes felt like they weighed nothing. I felt weightless, drawn forward not by will but by some force older than time itself.
"You are here by fate," he continued, taking a slow step down from the throne, "but your presence here is more than destiny. It is necessity." His gaze, sharp and commanding, held mine in a way that made my stomach tighten. "The bond is not one of choice, but of consequence. You feel it. I feel it. The mark has chosen, and we cannot escape it."
I wanted to speak, to protest, but the words caught in my throat. My body betrayed me, answering for me, and my mark pulsed so brightly that it cast golden light across the hall. Every eye turned toward us, but all I could feel was the magnetic force drawing me closer to him.
The king stepped into my space, and the moment our eyes met, I felt a shiver that went beyond fear. It was a recognition, a promise, a danger all at once. "You are mine," he whispered. "As fate, as mark, as bride."
The words sent a jolt through me. I wanted to resist, to deny it, to tear myself away, but the attraction was impossible to ignore. My mark pulsed violently, as if agreeing, as if it had been waiting for this exact moment. And in that instant, I realized that whatever this was, whatever the prophecy demanded, it was no longer just about survival. It was about surrender, about the dangerous, thrilling, forbidden pull between us.
A Forbidden Attraction
The ceremony concluded with an ancient ritual I barely understood. I knelt before the king, the mark flaring beneath my sleeve in response to his proximity, and he placed his hand lightly over mine. There was no force, no demand, only the invisible gravity of his presence. And yet, the moment his fingers brushed mine, my entire being shivered. My mark glowed like molten gold, and the palace itself seemed to pulse in rhythm with it.
"Do you accept this bond?" he asked, voice low, carrying weight and command that made my chest tighten.
I wanted to say no. I wanted to resist with every fiber of my being. But when I looked into his eyes, silver and bright with something I could not name, I knew there was no escape. My body, my mark, my heart, my very destiny were already intertwined with his. "I accept," I whispered, voice trembling but certain in a way that terrified me.
The king's expression softened just slightly, though the intensity never left his gaze. "Then it begins," he said. "The bond is forged. It will guide, protect, and punish. You are now both bride and fulcrum. Your choices will shape the world."
The words were terrifying, yet exhilarating. Forbidden attraction burned between us with a force I could not resist. The moment my mark flared brighter than ever, I realized that desire and danger were one and the same here. And though I wanted to deny it, to hide, to flee, I knew it was impossible. The bond had begun.
As I was escorted to my quarters, the palace seemed to watch me. Shadows lingered at the edges of the corridors, whispers followed me, and the weight of destiny pressed down like a storm. Yet beneath the fear and tension, the attraction simmered, forbidden and undeniable. Every glance, every brush of a shadow, every moment of stillness made my heart pound, my mark flare, and my thoughts spiral.
And in the back of my mind, a warning whispered. Someone else felt the mark too. Someone else had been drawn into this web of destiny, someone who could threaten everything. I could not yet name them, could not yet understand their intentions, but I knew that the path ahead was more dangerous than I had ever imagined.
The First Twist Revealed
Late that night, unable to sleep, I wandered the palace corridors. The mark beneath my sleeve pulsed faintly, responding to some unseen presence. I felt it again, the pull, the resonance. And then I saw him. The young guard who had appeared the day before, his eyes wide, hesitant, and drawn to me as if by some invisible string.
"You feel it too," I whispered, barely moving, terrified that someone might see. My mark flared briefly in response.
He nodded, stepping closer, drawn irresistibly. "I do. I do not understand it, but I feel it. It calls to me."
I realized then that the prophecy had more players than I had imagined. The Shadow King, the mark, and the bond were not the only forces at play. This guard, this unknown presence, had been drawn into it. And I understood, with a chilling clarity, that my survival and my desires were no longer mine to control alone.
Forbidden attraction, prophecy, and destiny collided. My heart betrayed me, my mark answered for me, and the dangerous dance with the Shadow King was only beginning.
The Mark Awakens Further
I woke before dawn, though I could not tell if it was night or day. The Lumen Mark burned brighter than ever, painting my walls in molten gold. Something had shifted overnight. I could feel it even without seeing him. It was as if the mark pulsed with his heartbeat, or maybe with a heartbeat it had never had before. My chest tightened with a mixture of fear and longing.
King Ravsyn entered my chamber without knocking. I could feel the air shift before I saw him, the temperature dropping slightly, shadows stretching toward him. He stood at the foot of my bed, silver eyes fixed on me, dark hair falling over his forehead. "Your mark is restless," he said softly. "And so are you."
I sat up, pressing my sleeve to my chest. "I cannot control it," I admitted, my voice trembling. "It burns. I… I feel everything too strongly."
He stepped closer, a dangerous grace in his movement. "Good," he whispered. "You must feel everything to master it. Control comes from understanding, not denial."
The mark flared under my sleeve, reacting to him, to his voice, to his presence. I felt it as a pull in my back.
ones, a magnetic force that dragged me closer despite every instinct screaming to run. My heartbeat quickened. He raised a hand, brushing against my arm, and the mark responded violently. Gold light radiated through the room, casting flickering shadows across the walls.
"You are mine," he said again. This time, it was not just a claim. It was a statement of power, of inevitability.
And I knew, as I looked into his eyes, that resisting would be impossible.
The day began with training. The Lumen Mark responded to emotion, and I had to learn to control it, to channel it without losing myself. King Ravsyn had appointed the Shadow Court's mages to guide me, but he hovered always, a shadow at my side. His proximity made it impossible to focus. Every glance, every movement sent sparks through me, every brush of his shadow across mine made the mark flare. I hated myself for feeling drawn to him.
"Focus on the energy within," the chief mage instructed, circling me like a hawk. "Do not let your fear or desire control you."
I closed my eyes, tried to breathe, tried to feel nothing. The mark pulsed under my skin, responding to King Ravsyn's presence even when my eyes were shut. My body betrayed me. My heart betrayed me. And then, faintly, a second presence entered my mind. A shadow, a whisper. The guard. He had come to watch, silently, unseen by the king. I felt the mark respond to him as well. Confusion and tension twisted in my chest.
King Ravsyn noticed, of course. His eyes narrowed slightly, silver light gleaming in warning. I could see it in his expression—possessiveness, jealousy, a faint hint of fascination. The forbidden attraction between us intensified, burning hotter than the mark itself.
Training continued through the day. I learned to manipulate the mark, to extend it into light, to channel it as warmth and energy, and even, briefly, as a weapon against shadows that clung to the hallways. Each success was exhilarating, each failure terrifying. I could feel King Ravsyn's attention like fire on my skin, and the guard's subtle presence like water trying to pull me elsewhere. I was caught between forces I could not resist.
By nightfall, I was exhausted, my body aching, my mind racing. My mark glowed faintly beneath my sleeve, and I knew that neither distance, nor sleep, nor distraction could hide the pull of destiny, desire, or danger. Both the king and the guard had stakes in me. And I realized, with terrifying clarity, that the coming days would test not only my power but my heart in ways I had never imagined.