The training chamber lay far beneath the palace, sealed behind layers of ancient ice and rune-forged stone. It was a place where emperors bled and legends were broken before they were forged.
Serenya stood at its center.
The air was brutally cold—far colder than the palace halls above. Frost crept along her lashes with every breath, and her fingers ached despite the thick layers of fur wrapped around her body.
Vael watched her from across the chamber, arms folded, expression unyielding.
"This is where bearers learn whether they deserve to live," he said.
Serenya lifted her chin. "Then begin."
Without warning, the ice beneath her feet shattered.
She screamed as she plunged downward—but the fall never came. Instead, jagged spikes of ice erupted midair, forcing her to twist violently to avoid impalement. She hit the ground hard, pain ripping through her shoulder.
"Get up," Vael commanded.
She did.
Barely.
The moment she stood, frost-laced chains shot from the walls, snapping toward her wrists. She reacted on instinct, throwing her hands up as ice exploded outward, shattering the chains midair.
Vael's eyes narrowed. "Again."
The chamber attacked her relentlessly.
Blades of ice. Crushing pressure. Freezing winds that sliced skin and stole breath. Each time she faltered, Vael struck—not with cruelty, but with precision, forcing her to respond, adapt, survive.
Hours blurred into agony.
Her knees buckled. Blood stained the ice beneath her palms—dark against white.
"Enough," she gasped.
Vael did not move. "The Sovereign will not stop because you are tired."
She dragged herself upright, rage burning through the exhaustion.
"Then neither will I."
The crescent mark flared.
The ice responded.
Power surged through her veins—wild, raw, uncontrollable. The chamber shook violently as frost spiraled outward, smashing into the walls with explosive force.
Vael moved instantly, slamming his palm into the ground. A surge of imperial frost collided with her magic, halting it just before the chamber shattered completely.
"Control," he snapped, gripping her wrists. "Power without restraint will kill you."
Their proximity stole her breath.
She could feel the cold radiating from him, yet beneath it was something else—steady, grounding. Anchoring.
"How?" she whispered.
Vael hesitated.
Then, slowly, he placed her bloodied hand over his chest.
"Feel the rhythm," he said quietly. "The ice breathes. It moves. You must move with it."
Her pulse synced with his.
The chaos inside her stilled.
The frost settled.
For the first time, her power did not surge wildly—it flowed.
Vael's gaze darkened, something unreadable flickering there. He released her abruptly and stepped back.
"That is enough for today."
Serenya swayed, exhaustion crashing over her. Before she fell, Vael caught her, lifting her effortlessly.
"You said this place breaks legends," she murmured weakly.
"Yes," he replied. "And you survived."
She smiled faintly before darkness claimed her.
She woke in her chambers, bandaged and warm beneath heavy furs. The fire crackled softly, its glow painting the walls in amber light.
Vael stood near the window.
"I didn't fail," she said.
"No," he answered. "You frightened the palace."
She laughed softly, then winced.
Silence stretched between them.
"Why do you care?" she asked suddenly.
Vael did not turn. "Because the bearer cannot die."
"That's not the truth," she said quietly.
He turned then, silver eyes locking onto hers.
"…Because if you fall," he said slowly, "the seal follows."
Her heart clenched.
"And because," he added more softly, "I will not watch another bearer die."
The weight of centuries lay in his voice.
Serenya reached out, fingers brushing his sleeve. "Then don't let me."
The ice hummed.
Outside, far beyond the palace walls, forces older than kingdoms stirred. Word of the bearer's awakening had begun to spread.
And soon, the world would come knocking.