Talia's voice was the first to break, raw and uncertain. "What… what does that mean?"
Selene didn't answer. She couldn't. Her gaze was fixed on Anna's peaceful face, but her thoughts were far away—back to the last time she had heard those words, whispered by a dying queen who had stared into the storm and seen something beyond death itself.
Somewhere deep within the walls of the chamber, a low hum stirred—an ancient vibration threading faintly through the stone. It was gone almost as soon as it began, but Selene felt it in her bones.
Talia's question hung in the air, trembling like a note left unresolved. Selene sat back slowly, her gaze distant, haunted by ghosts her daughters could not yet see. The candlelight trembled across her features, gilding the edges of her sorrow.
Talia's voice trembled in the silence. "Mother… what really happened that night? Six years ago. Was this—was this the same?"
Selene didn't answer at first. Her gaze was fixed on Anna's still form, fingers tracing faint circles over her daughter's hand. The candlelight painted her face in shifting gold and shadow, the weight of memory pressing deep lines beneath her eyes.
When she finally spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper. "You've both been told that your grandmother, Grand Empress Aeloria Crestwood, died fighting Chaos. That she fell a hero's death—protecting the capital from the storm."
Talia nodded hesitantly, the old legend too familiar. Elara said nothing.
Selene's hand stilled. "It's not true."
The air seemed to thin, the world holding its breath.
"Aeloria did not die at the hands of Chaos," Selene continued, her words slow and deliberate, like reopening an old wound. "She died saving your sister—from herself."
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.
"She stopped Chaos, yes. Anna did. She was barely six years old." Selene's voice trembled, and the image of that night rose unbidden behind her eyes—the broken streets of Crestwood, the sky split by a storm of light and sound. "When the beast came, it tried to take her. To use her. But something inside Anna… answered it. A resonance pure and terrible. She fought it—and she won. Chaos was destroyed."
Elara's lips parted, disbelief trembling at their edges. "Then how—how did Grandmother—?"
Selene drew in a shaky breath, her eyes distant. "Anna's victory came at a cost. The power that destroyed Chaos did not fade—it grew wild, untethered. Her grief, her rage… they poured into the song. The resonance lashed out in every direction, breaking the ley lines, tearing the city apart. Even the air screamed."
Her voice softened, breaking. "Your grandmother rose from the rubble, bleeding, dying—and she saw what had to be done. I was there, holding the Codex of Resonance, the book she'd sworn never to open again. She took it from me.
Selene's hand trembled as she spoke. "She invoked a spell older than the empire, one created by her own mother—a true Resonance Mage. A binding spell. It could seal away the power consuming Anna, but it demanded a price equal to the magic it sought to contain."
She looked up, meeting her daughters' eyes. "It demanded her life."
Talia covered her mouth, eyes glistening. Elara turned away, fists clenched, her flame magic flickering in helpless sparks.
"She used the Codex, wove her soul into the spell, and bound Anna's magic inside her own essence. The storm ended. The city lived. But when the light faded…" Selene's voice broke entirely. "…Aeloria was gone."
The Empress brushed her thumb over Anna's pale knuckles, tears slipping free despite her iron composure. "Her last words were for Anna. She held her and said, 'Live, little songbird. Live for us both.'"
Talia took an unsteady breath. "And now… the seal's breaking."
Selene nodded, her expression distant, haunted. "Yes. And if the same power awakens again…" She swallowed hard. "It will not stop at the city this time."
The room fell silent but for the sound of Anna's faint, steady breathing.
The candles flickered—once, twice—and in their wavering light, a faint hum resonated through the air, subtle but unmistakable.
The silence that followed Selene's final words was suffocating. The hum—the faint, ghostly resonance that seemed to vibrate beneath the stone—lingered like a memory that refused to fade.
Talia stared at her sister's still face, her jaw tightening, eyes bright with unshed tears. Then, slowly, she rose to her feet. The light caught her silver armor as she straightened, the reflection gleaming like the edge of a drawn blade.
"Then we won't let that happen," she said firmly. Her voice, though soft, cut through the stillness like tempered steel. "Whatever this is—whatever's waking inside her—we'll find a way to stop it."
Selene looked up at her eldest daughter. For a fleeting moment, she saw the same unflinching resolve that had once defined Valerius in his youth, before the crown had hardened him.
Talia stepped closer, her expression resolute. "She's our sister, Mother. I don't care what the old texts say, or what the Archons whisper behind their robes. If the seal is breaking, then we'll learn how to strengthen it. Or replace it. Or—" She broke off, her voice catching before she forced it steady again. "We'll find another way. Together."
A soft sound broke the silence—footsteps, slow and measured, echoing from the far end of the chamber.
Talia turned sharply, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of her blade. Elara's palms flared faintly with heat, a shimmer of gold and crimson light chasing away the shadows pooling near the door.
Out of that darkness stepped Archon Veynar. His indigo robes whispered against the marble, silver sigils pulsing faintly in the dim light, each step carrying the quiet authority of someone who belonged wherever he chose to stand. The air seemed to still around him, the faint resonance in the room bending subtly to his presence.
He stopped several paces away, inclining his head. "A vow made from love," he said, his voice calm, deep, and deliberate. "It has power. More than you might realize."
Talia's eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't be here," she said coldly, her posture stiff, protective. "This is family business."
"Indeed," Veynar replied evenly, his pale gaze flicking toward Anna's still form. "And her condition concerns the fate of your entire bloodline—and perhaps much more than that."
Elara took a step closer to her mother and sister, her tone edged with fire. "If you've come to speak of containment or experiments—"
Veynar raised a single hand, cutting her off—not in arrogance, but in calm assurance. "Peace, Lady Elara. I've not come to harm her." His eyes softened slightly, the faintest hint of warmth flickering there. "Nor do I believe the thing within her is harm."
Selene's expression sharpened. "You speak of Chaos, Archon. The force that nearly unmade the world."
Veynar's pale eyes glimmered in the half-light, unreadable yet steady. "No," he said quietly, shaking his head. "I speak of balance."
He stepped closer, the silver sigils woven into his robes flaring subtly with each word, reacting to the energy in the room. "Chaos is destruction without harmony—resonance torn from its purpose. But what resides in your daughter is not that. It is its counterpoint."
Talia frowned, her grip tightening on the hilt of her sword. "Counterpoint?"
Veynar nodded. "Every discord yearns for resolution. Every fracture seeks its reflection. What you call Chaos was never meant to be an enemy, but an imbalance left unhealed since the first songs of creation. And this—" he gestured gently toward Anna, his voice reverent "—this being within her… may be what the world has been waiting for to restore that harmony."
Elara's flame flickered uncertainly, caught between skepticism and awe. "You're saying that thing—whatever it is—saved her?"
Veynar inclined his head. "It's very likely. When she channeled the power of the ley lines, her mortal form should have been consumed. No human body could bear such resonance unbound. And yet, something intervened. Something ancient and aligned with life, not destruction. It did not devour her—it anchored her."
Selene's lips parted in disbelief. "You think this creature is good?"
"I think it is necessary," Veynar replied. His tone was calm, but beneath it was conviction—the kind that carried the weight of centuries of hidden truth. "Without it, your daughter would be gone. The resonance would have burned her out like a candle in a storm. Instead, she breathes. And if I am right… it is because that being chose to protect her."
He paused, letting the words sink in, then continued softly, "Perhaps, Empress, this is not a curse. Perhaps it is a covenant."
Talia's voice was sharp, distrustful. "And what happens when this so-called balance decides she's no longer useful? When it turns on her—on all of us?"
Veynar met her gaze without hesitation. "Then she will not face it alone. Because whatever it is, whatever name you give it, I believe it was born to oppose Chaos, not serve it."
The air grew heavy, filled with the quiet hum of unseen energy. The ley crystals embedded in the walls shimmered faintly, responding to the resonance of his words.
Veynar turned toward Anna, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "If Chaos ever rises again, this being within her may be the only thing capable of ending it—for good."
Selene's eyes flickered between fear and hope, her hand tightening protectively over Anna's. "And at what cost?" she murmured.
Veynar's expression softened. "All great harmonies are born from sacrifice, Your Majesty. But sometimes… that sacrifice brings not silence, but a new song."
Suddenly, Anna jolted upright, eyes wide, screaming: "Grandma!" Her voice cracked, echoing through the silent chamber.