***
The taste of power lingered in my mouth—coppery, electric, and bittersweet.
I stood alone at the center of the ancient courtyard where I had just absorbed the Shadow King—my darker self. His voice no longer echoed in my head. His fury, his lust for chaos, his cruel ambition… all of it now flowed through my veins.
And yet, I hadn't turned into him.
I had bent the darkness. Tamed it. Claimed it.
The sky had quieted, stars piercing through the once-violent clouds, but the silence wasn't peace. It was the calm between battles.
Footsteps echoed behind me.
Seraphine.
Her long, dark hair was tousled, her leather armor torn and streaked with blood. But her eyes—sharp, molten, hungry—found mine across the rubble.
"You really did it," she whispered.
I nodded once. "He's gone."
She stepped closer, her gaze moving over me like a slow caress. "But something about you… it's different."
"I am different."
"I know."
The tension stretched between us like a drawn bowstring. The way her chest rose and fell. The ache in her eyes. The fire in mine.
"I need to feel it," she whispered suddenly. "All of it. What you've become. What you're still holding back."
I didn't ask questions.
I crossed the distance between us in two steps, gripping her hips, pulling her against me. Our lips crashed together—rough, desperate, raw. Her nails raked down my back, and I growled low in my throat as I lifted her effortlessly, backing her against the cracked stone wall.
Her thighs wrapped around my waist, heat burning through our clothes. She moaned into my mouth as I rocked against her, grinding, teasing, pushing her into that thin space between pain and ecstasy.
"You're stronger," she gasped between kisses. "Harder."
"Because of you."
I kissed down her throat, biting softly, marking her with my mouth. Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling, demanding. I slid my hands under her armor, over bare skin. She was fire. Alive. Mine.
There, in the shadow of a broken temple, we lost ourselves. She rode me like she was trying to break me. I let her. But I gave back as hard as I took. Every thrust, every touch, every breath was a war we didn't want to win—only survive.
And when we finally collapsed together, slick with sweat, hearts racing in sync, she whispered into my neck:
"I would burn for you."
And I, breathless, whispered back:
"I already have."
***
Later, as the sun began to rise over the blood-soaked hills, Kael stood on the monastery steps, his arms folded, his gaze unreadable.
"You absorbed him," he said.
"I did."
"That's impossible. The spell wasn't complete."
"It didn't need to be."
Kael's eyes flicked to the still-glowing rune on my arm. "Then something else finished it."
Seraphine stood beside me, her hand in mine. "He used love. Not rage. That's what made the difference."
Kael's lips twitched—something between a smirk and concern. "Love is powerful. Dangerous too."
"Tell me something I don't know," I muttered.
He stepped down and handed me a sealed scroll. "Then know this: absorbing your shadow self was only the first part of the prophecy."
"Of course it was," I said, rolling my eyes.
"The real threat isn't what was born in you," he continued. "It's what was awakened across the realm by your ascension."
My brow furrowed. "You mean—"
"There are others."
He looked me dead in the eye.
"Other heirs."
***
The scroll contained the coordinates to a forbidden realm—one carved from time and magic, hidden in the Valley of the Forgotten Flame. A place said to house the Council of Cinders—an ancient order that judged kings before their thrones were even born.
"They've seen you now," Kael warned. "They'll either test you… or destroy you."
Seraphine glanced at me. "We'll handle them."
Kael raised a brow. "They won't just come at you with swords, Desmond. They'll come with memories, with pain, with temptation."
I flexed my fingers, flame dancing along my palm. "Then I'll give them a reason to kneel."
***
The journey to the Valley wasn't easy.
We rode through the Ashen Mountains on stolen phantom steeds. The winds whispered old names. The rocks bled magic. The deeper we went, the more reality bent—trees floated, rivers ran backward, and shadows had voices.
That night, we camped in the ruins of a shattered gate etched with the mark of my bloodline—a crown split by lightning.
Seraphine curled against me under the pelt of a direwolf.
"Do you think we're running toward a trap?" she asked softly.
"Yes."
"And we're still going?"
"Yes."
She chuckled, pressing a kiss to my chest. "Good. I'd hate to follow a coward."
I tilted her chin up, kissed her slow, deep, savoring the taste of trust and danger on her lips. "Never a coward," I whispered. "But maybe a fool."
"Then let's be fools together."
We made love again, slower this time. More tender. But beneath it, the same hunger smoldered—one that knew our time was running out.
***
The next morning, the Valley of the Forgotten Flame revealed itself like a mirage—massive, scarlet, and breathing magic. At its heart was the Temple of Embers, half-buried in lava flows that moved like liquid glass.
And standing at the temple gates were five figures.
The Council.
Each wore a different crown: frost, bone, gold, thorn, and shadow.
But it was the fifth figure—the one with the crown of shadow—that made my breath hitch.
He looked like me. Again.
But younger. Colder.
The first heir.
The one I was never supposed to meet.
***
"Desmond of the Flameblood Line," the woman with the frost crown spoke, her voice like ice across a blade. "You stand before the Council of Cinders to be judged."
"For what?" I asked, stepping forward.
"For surviving," the heir of shadow said. "And for doing what no one else could."
"You mean absorbing my echo?"
"No," he replied. "You chose to love. To bond. To feel. That makes you dangerous."
Seraphine stepped beside me, defiant. "He's not dangerous. He's true."
The heir of bone laughed. "Then let's see if truth survives a Blood Oath."
***
The world twisted.
The Valley vanished.
And we were in a circle of flame—Seraphine, the heir, and me.
"If you bleed for her," the councilwoman said, "If you let your love for her tie into your power, it will bind your fate forever. One soul. One flame. If either of you falter, both die."
Seraphine grabbed my hand.
"Do it," she whispered.
I hesitated only a breath—then nodded.
I sliced my palm.
She sliced hers.
We pressed our hands together.
The flames roared.
Runes exploded up both our arms.
And somewhere far away… a gate opened.
And someone else stepped through.
A woman.
Wearing a crown of obsidian roses.
"Desmond," she whispered. "I've come for what's mine."