Volume 1 — Chapter 13: The Heart of the Prophecy
The forest clearing was bathed in an otherworldly silver glow. Lyriana and Aryn stood side by side, faces streaked with sweat and dirt, hearts still pounding from their encounter with Serelis. Yet there was no time to rest.
"The prophecy…" Lyriana whispered, tracing the glowing runes carved into the ancient altar. "It doesn't just involve you, Aryn. It involves both of us."
Aryn nodded, his fingers brushing hers. "The Moonlit Throne chooses its champions. That mark you saw on me… it binds my fate to the throne, but the princess of Arvandor is the other half. Together, we can awaken the power hidden for centuries."
Lyriana swallowed hard. "And if we fail?"
"Then the council will destroy us," he said bluntly. "The empire will crumble, and the Shadowmarked will be hunted to extinction."
Before Lyriana could respond, the mist shifted, and figures emerged from the darkness—the council's elite enforcers. At their forefront was Grand Advisor Marovain himself, eyes cold, unwavering.
"You've meddled far enough, Princess," he said, voice echoing through the clearing. "And you, Shadowmarked… you overstep your place in this world."
Lyriana stepped forward, defiance blazing. "We are not overstepping, Marovain. We are choosing the future—for the empire, and for the people you claim to protect."
A tense silence fell. Then, with a subtle gesture from Aryn, the sigil on his wrist flared, casting beams of silver light across the clearing. The altar responded, resonating with energy.
Marovain's face hardened. "So be it. If the prophecy must awaken, then let it. But beware—its power is not for the weak of heart."
The enforcers advanced, but the forest itself seemed to rise in defense. Roots twisted, vines lashed, and a wind swirled that carried whispers of the Moonlit Throne. Lyriana felt her own magic—latent and untapped—beginning to stir, resonating with Aryn's power.
Their hands met, fingers entwined. Every heartbeat, every breath, carried not just fear, but a fierce, undeniable love—an anchor in the storm of magic and politics surrounding them.
Aryn leaned close, whispering, "Whatever happens next, we face it together. Not as princess and prisoner… but as equals. As partners. As… us."
Lyriana's lips curved in a determined smile. "Together."
As the first strike of magical energy erupted, illuminating the clearing with blinding silver light, Lyriana and Aryn braced themselves. Their forbidden love, their courage, and the fate of Arvandor itself were about to collide in a storm no one could stop.
And in that moment, under the gaze of the moon and the whispers of centuries-old magic, Volume 1 reached its crescendo—leaving the empire, the prophecy, and their hearts forever changed.