The kingdom woke to whispers.
They slithered through stone corridors and candlelit halls, carried by servants who spoke too softly and guards who listened too closely. By dawn, her name was no longer spoken with certainty-but with fear.
She had vanished.
Not fled.
Not fallen.
Vanished.
In the east wing, he stood at the window, fingers pressed against cold glass as the city stretched below him-alive, unaware, fragile.
"She's gone," someone said behind him.
He didn't turn.
Gone.
As if she were something that could simply leave.
The bond burned again-sharper this time, angrier. It clawed through his chest, not with longing, but with warning.
She was not running.
She was preparing.
She stood at the edge of the old ruins, where the kingdom's laws had never reached and promises went to die. The wind tugged at her cloak as if trying to pull her back-but she refused.
"I won't beg anymore," she whispered to the dark.
Power answered.
It stirred beneath her skin, ancient and furious, responding to the choice she had finally made.
The same power they had feared. The same power they had tried to cage.
If the kingdom wanted a monster..
She would not disappoint them.
But monsters remembered who made them.
Miles away, he finally turned from the window, eyes burning-not with rage, but with understanding.
Walking away hadn't saved her.
And now, neither of them could pretend this was just fate.
This was war.
And for the first time, he knew exactly which side he would destroy the world for.