The bells rang before dawn.
Not for celebration.
But for breach.
The outer barrier — the one sealed with Kael's dark wards and the Queen's healing runes — had shattered like crystal.
Kael was already in armor when the guard came panting into the war room.
"They didn't come through the main gates," the captain said. "They walked through the mist. No sound. No heat. No scent. Just darkness — swallowing torches, devouring light."
Kael's eyes flicked to the high window. The sky above was clear, almost too bright. A cruel lie. "Where's the Queen?"
"In the children's wing."
Kael was gone before the man finished the sentence.
---
In the nursery, Elara stood with her back pressed to the door.
Seris was already awake. So was Lysander.
"Something's wrong," the boy said. His voice was sharper now. More certain. He stood in front of Seris like a miniature guardian. His hands sparked with Light, blue and golden veins dancing over his palms.
Elara looked between them. "He's here, isn't he?"
Seris gave a quiet nod.
"The one without a shadow."
---
Kael arrived just in time to see the window crack.
Not from impact.
From presence.
A coldness seeped into the room, not physical, not magical — existential. Like something ancient and wrong had turned its gaze inward.
Elara's breath hitched. "Kael—"
"I see him," Kael said, drawing his sword. His shadows surged, writhing at his feet like snakes. "He's already inside."
Seris stepped forward. "He's not alone. There are others… like mirrors. But empty."
Lysander put a hand on her shoulder. "You're not going anywhere."
But the girl's eyes were distant, as if she were already standing in two worlds at once.
Kael moved to her. Dropped to one knee. "Listen to me, Seris. If he tries to speak to you — don't answer."
"But he already has," she whispered. "He's been whispering since the Gate cracked. He wants to show me something. A future."
Kael gripped her shoulders. "He lies. That's what they do — things made of void and ruin. They twist truth until it poisons the soul."
Seris touched his face. "Then don't let him take me."
"I won't."
---
The throne hall had been transformed into a war chamber.
Elara stood at its center, hands wrapped in spellfire, the Crown of Stars pulsing at her brow.
Kael strode in beside her, flanked by guards of both Light and Dark.
Then, the silence arrived.
A tear in the air, a seam splitting open like the mouth of a sleeping god.
And from it — he stepped through.
A tall figure cloaked in grey fire. No face. No shadow. His presence distorted the air. Even the chandeliers above flickered, unsure if they still existed.
"I have come for what belongs to me," the figure said, voice like wind and nails.
Kael stepped forward, blade drawn. "You are in the wrong realm."
"I am in the only realm that can undo what you broke."
Elara's voice was steel. "We broke nothing. We bled for balance."
The figure turned — though he had no eyes — and yet he seemed to see her. "Ah. The healer queen. Made from mortal ash and sacred blood. You bore the Starborn. You opened the Gate."
"I did no such thing—"
"You did when you loved a man who wasn't meant for you. When two halves tried to become whole. The Gate responded. The child is not a mistake. She is a response."
Kael moved between them. "You will not touch her."
The figure tilted what passed for his head. "You can't stop it, Kael. Your own son will deliver her to me."
The room froze.
Lysander, standing at the door, flinched — like something inside him had been pierced.
Kael turned. "That's not true."
But Lysander — his face pale, jaw clenched — stepped forward. "Why me?"
The figure smiled — or gave the impression of a smile. "Because you want to be seen. Because you are second-born, but first in longing. You are the unchosen. And I can give you a crown of your own."
Elara screamed, "Lysander—don't listen to him!"
Lysander's hand rose — Light swirling between his fingers. But his voice cracked. "He's lying… right?"
Kael stepped forward slowly. "Yes. He lies with poison and poetry."
But Lysander's hands shook. "Then why does it feel true?"
The room trembled.
Seris stepped in.
Just six years old. Eyes glowing like moons. Her magic — both healing and dark — pulsing like a storm.
She looked at the faceless man and said, "You don't get to choose us."
Then she lifted her hand — and the Gate inside him cracked.
The scream that followed shattered the chandelier. Crystals rained like falling stars.
Kael threw himself over Elara and Lysander.
When the dust settled, the figure was gone.
But the tear remained.
A Gate, half open. Bleeding light. Whispering dark.
And Seris collapsed to her knees, eyes rolled back.
---