ELARA'S POV
I threw the crystal vase at the wall with all my strength.
It should have shattered into a thousand pieces. Should have made a satisfying crash that matched the screaming chaos inside my head.
Instead, it bounced off the stone like a rubber ball and rolled harmlessly across the perfect carpet.
"Of course," I snarled, grabbing a porcelain figurine from the mantle. "Of course even the decorations are indestructible in this cursed place!"
I hurled the figurine. It hit the wall and tumbled to the floor, completely unharmed.
The expensive chairs were too heavy to lift. The silk curtains wouldn't tear. The mirror above the fireplace was bolted to the wall so securely I couldn't even make it wobble.
Everything in this beautiful prison was designed to withstand a captive queen's rage.
I grabbed a book from the shelf and flung it across the room. Then another. And another. Soon books littered the floor like fallen birds, but nothing was broken. Nothing was destroyed.
Just like me.
I sank to my knees among the scattered books, my whole body shaking.
For three days, I'd held myself together. Stayed strong. Refused to break.
But now, alone for the first time since the invasion, the dam finally burst.
I sobbed until my throat burned. Cried until no more tears would come. Then I just knelt there, empty and hollow, while the shadows around my hands pulsed in rhythm with my grief.
The fire crackled cheerfully, mocking me with its warmth.
Outside the locked door, I heard guards talking in low voices. Discussing me, probably. The fallen queen. The witch. The prisoner who thought she could destroy expensive furniture with her bare hands.
I wanted to scream at them. Wanted to blast the door off its hinges with whatever this chaos magic was.
But I was too tired. Too broken.
I crawled to the massive bed and buried myself under the silk sheets. They smelled foreign—like pine and smoke instead of the lavender sachets my servants used back home.
Back home.
I didn't have a home anymore.
Fresh tears soaked into the pillow, but I cried silently this time. I wouldn't give Cassian's guards the satisfaction of hearing me break.
Eventually, exhaustion dragged me under.
I woke to knocking.
For one beautiful moment, I forgot where I was. Thought I was back in Luminveil, and Mira was coming to wake me for breakfast and gossip.
Then I saw the unfamiliar room. The locked door. The books still scattered across the floor from my tantrum.
Reality crashed back like a wave.
"Your Majesty?" A woman's voice, hesitant. "I'm bringing breakfast."
I didn't answer. Didn't move from the bed.
The door unlocked—I heard the heavy click of the bolt sliding back—and a young woman entered carrying a tray. She was maybe eighteen, with nervous eyes and a plain gray dress.
A servant. Not Mira.
She set the tray on the table by the fireplace, her hands trembling slightly. "Is there anything else you need, Your Majesty?"
"My freedom," I said flatly.
She flinched. "I... I meant, anything I can bring you. Different food, perhaps? More blankets?"
I sat up, shoving the hair out of my face. The shadows still clung to my hands, darker than ever after a night of grief.
The servant's eyes widened when she saw them.
"You're afraid of me," I said. It wasn't a question.
"N-no, Your Majesty, I—"
"Don't lie." I climbed out of bed, noting how she took a step back. "Everyone's afraid of me now. The witch queen with her chaos magic."
"I'm not afraid," she said, but her voice shook. "I just... I've never seen magic like that before."
"Neither have I." I looked at my shadowed hands. "Trust me, it's not by choice."
An awkward silence fell between us.
Finally, I asked the question burning in my chest: "What's your name?"
"Anna, Your Majesty."
"Anna." I moved closer, watching her fight the urge to retreat. "Tell me about Luminveil. My city. My people. Are they—"
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty." Her eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm not permitted to discuss that with you."
My heart sank. "Not permitted? By whose order?"
"King Cassian's. He said—" She stopped, biting her lip.
"He said what?" I demanded.
"That it would only cause you pain. That you should focus on adjusting to your new situation, not dwelling on what you've lost."
Rage flooded through me, and the shadows around my hands flared like dark flames. Anna gasped and stumbled backward.
"He doesn't get to decide what causes me pain!" I shouted. "Those are my people! I have a right to know if they're suffering, if they're—"
"Please, Your Majesty, I can't—" Anna backed toward the door, genuine fear in her eyes now.
I forced myself to take a breath. The shadows settled slightly.
"I'm sorry," I said, hating how powerless I sounded. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I just... I need to know they're okay."
Anna's expression softened. For a moment, I thought she might tell me something.
Then she shook her head. "I'm truly sorry. I have orders. If I disobey..." She didn't finish, but I understood. She had her own survival to worry about.
"Go," I said quietly. "Before I lose control again."
She fled, the door locking behind her with that terrible finality.
I turned to the breakfast tray. Fresh bread. Fruit. Cheese. Even my favorite tea—how did they know?
The sight of it made me furious.
They'd given me a beautiful cage. Filled it with comforts and luxuries. Fed me like a prized pet.
But I couldn't know if my people were alive or dead. Couldn't send them messages of hope. Couldn't do the one thing a queen should do—protect those who depended on her.
I was completely cut off. Isolated. Powerless.
The shadows around my hands began to spread up my arms.
I watched them, fascinated and terrified. They moved like living things, responding to my emotions. When I felt angry, they grew. When I felt helpless, they darkened.
What happened if I let them take over completely?
A knock at the door made me jump.
"Anna?" I called. "Did you forget something?"
The door unlocked, but it wasn't Anna who entered.
Cassian stood in the doorway, still wearing his armor from last night. He looked like he hadn't slept at all.
"You," I hissed. The shadows flared darker. "Get out."
"We need to talk." He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
"I have nothing to say to you."
"Then listen." He moved toward me, and I noticed something I'd missed before—dark circles under his eyes, a tension in his jaw. He looked haunted. "The escaped councilors—"
"I didn't free them!" I snapped. "I told you—"
"I know." His words stopped me cold. "I believe you."
I blinked. "You... what?"
"We found evidence at the escape site. The magic used wasn't chaos magic—it was sleep enchantment, highly sophisticated. Someone with extensive training broke them out."
"Then why did you lock me in here? Why give orders that I can't hear news about my own people?"
His expression hardened. "Because whoever freed those councilors is still out there. And they want you dead, Elara. Not rescued—dead. We found this."
He pulled a paper from his belt and handed it to me.
It was a letter, written in Vex's handwriting:
"The girl is too dangerous alive. The Thorne king is using her as bait, which means he values her. Kill her, and we remove his leverage while eliminating the only witness to our crimes. Make it look like the chaos magic consumed her. No one will question a witch's death."
My hands shook as I read it again.
"Where did you find this?"
"One of the unconscious guards had it in his pocket. Whoever freed the councilors wanted us to know their plan." Cassian's voice went rough. "You're not safe, Elara. Not even here. Especially not here."
"So what?" I threw the letter at him. "You're going to keep me locked in this tower forever? Cut off from everyone and everything?"
"I'm going to keep you alive." He stepped closer, and I saw something unexpected in his eyes—genuine concern. "Those councilors murdered your parents. They tried to murder you during the invasion. Now they're planning to finish the job. Until I catch them, you stay here where I can protect you."
"I don't want your protection!"
"Too bad. You're getting it anyway."
We glared at each other, the air between us crackling with tension.
Finally, I asked the question that had haunted me since the wagon: "Your mother. Mira said she had chaos magic too. What happened to her?"
Cassian's face went carefully blank. "That's not relevant."
"It is if I'm turning into whatever she became!"
"You're nothing like her," he said sharply. Then, quieter: "You're stronger than she was. You have control."
"I don't have any control!" I held up my shadow-wrapped hands. "Look at me! I'm becoming a monster, and no one will tell me why or how to stop it!"
"You're not a monster." He grabbed my shadowed hands before I could pull away. His touch sent a shock through me—not painful, but electric. "You're just scared. And the magic responds to fear."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I watched my mother struggle with it for years." His grip tightened. "She tried to suppress it, hide it, pretend it didn't exist. That's what killed her—not the magic itself, but the denial."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" I whispered.
"Accept it. Learn it. Master it." He released my hands slowly. "And I'm going to help you."
"Why would you help me?"
"Because chaos magic in the wrong hands—or in untrained hands—is incredibly dangerous. And because..." He stopped, something vulnerable flickering across his face. "Because I failed my mother. I won't fail you too."
Before I could respond, shouts erupted from somewhere below in the castle.
Cassian's head snapped toward the door. "Stay here."
He was gone before I could argue, the door locking behind him.
I ran to the window, looking down at the courtyard below.
Soldiers rushed everywhere, weapons drawn. Someone was screaming orders I couldn't quite hear.
Then I saw it—smoke rising from the eastern wing of the castle. Not the black smoke of normal fire, but purple smoke shot through with sickly green light.
My blood turned to ice.
I knew that magic. Had seen it once before, in a forbidden book in Luminveil's library.
Poison fire. A forbidden spell that burned through flesh and bone, leaving nothing but ash.
And as I watched, a figure in dark robes stepped out of the smoke, completely unharmed.
Even from this distance, I recognized the walk. The posture.
Councilor Vex.
He looked up at my tower window, and even across the courtyard, I felt his smile.
Then he raised his hands, and purple fire began to spread across the castle walls.
Heading straight for my tower.