Keira's POV
I ran.
The moment Caelan turned to gesture toward his hidden camp, I bolted into the darkness. My lightning magic propelled me forward faster than any normal human could move. Trees blurred past. Behind me, I heard him shout my name.
I didn't stop.
I couldn't face him. Couldn't face the truth in his eyes that matched mine. Couldn't face the choice he was offering me.
Because deep down, I already knew what I wanted to choose. And that terrified me more than any mission ever had.
I rode through the night, pushing my horse until we both trembled with exhaustion. By dawn, Valdoria's capital appeared on the horizon, and I had to make a decision.
Go back to the Covenant. Tell Grandmother I'd been compromised. Face whatever punishment awaited.
Or finish the mission. Prove Caelan was lying. Prove I was strong enough to kill him even knowing he might be my brother.
I chose option three: see Valdoria for myself. Find proof one way or another. Then decide.
The Harvest Festival hit me like a physical blow.
I'd expected a military city. Fortified walls, armed guards, people living in fear of the old kingdoms' attacks. That's what Grandmother had described.
Instead, I found... joy.
Children ran through the streets laughing, their faces painted with colorful designs. Market stalls overflowed with food—fresh bread, roasted meat, candied apples. Musicians played on every corner. A little boy chased a puppy while his mother watched, smiling.
When was the last time I'd seen someone smile like that? Like they had nothing to fear?
Never. The answer was never.
I tied my horse at a public stable, pulling my cloak tight to hide my weapons. No one looked at me suspiciously. No one questioned my presence. I was just another festival-goer in a sea of happy people.
It was wrong. All wrong.
Cities weren't supposed to feel like this. People weren't supposed to look this... safe.
"First time in Valdoria?" An elderly woman selling flowers noticed me staring. "You look lost, dear."
"I'm fine," I said automatically.
"Well, if you need anything, just ask anyone. We help strangers here." She pressed a white lily into my hand before I could refuse. "Welcome to the City of Hope. That's what we call it now."
I stared at the flower like it might explode. When was the last time someone gave me something without wanting something back?
"Why?" The word escaped before I could stop it. "Why help strangers?"
The woman's smile was warm. "Because Prince Caelan says that's what makes us different from the old kingdoms. We choose kindness. We choose to be better."
She walked away, leaving me holding a lily and feeling like my entire world was crumbling.
Infiltrating the palace should have been harder.
I stole a servant's uniform from a laundry line—simple brown dress, white apron. I braided my silver hair and kept my head down. Then I just... walked through the palace gates behind a group of real servants bringing festival supplies.
No one stopped me. No one asked questions.
The guards were present but not aggressive. They smiled at passing servants. One helped an old man carry a heavy box. Another was showing a little girl his sword, letting her pretend to be a knight.
These weren't the brutal soldiers I'd been trained to expect. They were... normal people. Doing their jobs. Protecting others.
My training screamed that this was a trap. That security couldn't possibly be this light. But hours passed, and no one challenged me. I learned the palace layout, memorized guard rotations, found three escape routes.
It was too easy.
By nightfall, I stood outside the prince's private chambers. One guard stood at the door—just one. In any old kingdom palace, there would be twenty.
I could complete my mission right now. Slip inside while Caelan slept. One lightning strike. Done.
My hand moved toward my dagger.
"Excuse me, miss?" A voice made me jump. A young servant boy, maybe twelve, looked up at me curiously. "You're new, right? I don't recognize you."
My mind raced through cover stories. But the boy didn't look suspicious—just friendly.
"Yes. Started today."
"Cool! I'm Finn. I'm training to be a palace runner." His grin was infectious. "Fair warning—if you're assigned to the prince's rooms, he's super nice but he'll try to help you with your work. Last week he insisted on carrying his own laundry. Drove the head maid crazy."
I blinked. "The prince... carries his own laundry?"
"Yeah! He's weird like that. Says just because he's royalty doesn't mean servants are beneath him." Finn shrugged. "He's been helping set up the festival all day. Didn't you see him in the main square? He was teaching kids how to make wind magic blow the festival ribbons around. They loved it."
My chest tightened. This couldn't be the same person Grandmother described. The dangerous tyrant threatening the continental order. The target who deserved death.
"Finn!" Another servant called. "Stop bothering people and get back to work!"
"Coming!" Finn waved at me. "See you around, miss! Oh, and if you meet Prince Caelan, tell him Finn says the apple pie is ready. He promised to try some."
The boy scampered off, leaving me frozen in the hallway.
Prince Caelan promised to try a servant boy's pie. Taught children magic tricks. Carried his own laundry. Built a city where strangers gave each other flowers and guards smiled at passing citizens.
This was my twin brother.
And I was supposed to murder him.
I found an empty room and collapsed against the wall, my hands shaking. Everything I'd been taught, everything I believed, was crashing down around me.
The Covenant said I was saving the world from a dangerous prince. But everyone in Valdoria spoke of Caelan like he was a hero. A savior. Someone worth dying for.
Who was lying? Grandmother Nyx, who'd raised me? Or these people, who had no reason to lie?
I pulled out the wooden horse, staring at the lightning-and-wind symbol. My last connection to a life I couldn't remember.
"You look troubled."
I spun, lightning crackling. An elf woman stood in the doorway—silver hair, ancient violet eyes, radiating power. She didn't look afraid of my magic.
"Who are you?"
"Lyra Moonwhisper. Head of the palace healing ward." She stepped inside, closing the door. "And you're Keira. Prince Caelan's lost sister. The assassin sent to kill him."
My heart stopped. "How—"
"He told me you'd probably come tonight. He's waiting in his chambers." Lyra's expression was gentle but firm. "Before you make your choice, I want to tell you something. I was there the night you were taken. I was the court healer treating your parents after the initial attack. I saw the assassins grab you while Caelan screamed."
Tears burned my eyes. "Stop."
"You were five years old. You reached for your brother even as they dragged you away. You were crying for him. For 'Cae-Cae'—that's what you called him."
"I said stop!"
"He's been looking for you ever since." Lyra's voice cracked. "Twenty-one years of searching. Of hoping. Of blaming himself for not saving you. And now you're here, finally home. Are you really going to kill the brother who never stopped loving you?"
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
"I don't know," I whispered. "I don't know what's real anymore."
"Then let me show you." Lyra pulled a small crystal from her pocket—it glowed with soft white light. "This is a memory crystal. It contains the truth of that night. What really happened to your family. Who really ordered the attack."
She pressed it into my palm. The crystal was warm, pulsing with stored memories.
"Watch it," Lyra said. "Then decide who deserves your loyalty. The people who stole your childhood? Or the brother who never stopped searching for you?"
She left, and I was alone with the crystal.
My hand trembled as I activated it. Light erupted, forming images in the air.
I saw myself at five years old, laughing with a boy who had my face. Saw our parents smiling down at us. Saw the moment assassins burst into our home—assassins wearing the Shadow Covenant's symbol.
Saw Grandmother Nyx herself standing over our parents' bodies.
Saw her grab five-year-old me, covering my mouth as I screamed for Caelan.
Saw her smile as she cast the spell that would erase my memories.
The crystal fell from my numb hand, shattering on the floor.
Grandmother Nyx had killed our parents. Had stolen me. Had raised me to complete her revenge by making me murder my own twin.
Everything was a lie. My entire life was a lie.
The door opened. Caelan stood there, still in his festival clothes, wind magic swirling nervously around him.
"Hello again, sister," he said softly. "Welcome home."
I stared at him—at my mirror, my twin, my brother—and felt the weapon inside me crack completely.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I didn't remember—"
"I know." He crossed the room carefully, like approaching a wounded animal. "It's not your fault. None of this is your fault."
"But I came here to kill you."
"And now?" His storm-gray eyes—our eyes—searched mine. "What do you want to do now?"
I looked at the shattered memory crystal. At the wooden horse in my pocket. At the brother I'd forgotten.
At the family that had been stolen from me.
"I want to remember," I said. "I want to know who I really am."
Caelan's smile was blinding. "Then stay. Let me help you remember. Let me be your brother again."
He reached out his hand.
I took it.
And somewhere far away, in a fortress made of shadows, Grandmother Nyx's crystal ball showed her everything.
Her perfect weapon had just defected.
And her smile was absolutely terrifying.