The village had no name anymore.
Once it was called Eirhollow, a peaceful hamlet built at the border of fae-touched woods and old demon roads. Now, it was nothing but cinders and silence.
Kael stood in the center of the ruins, his hand hovering over blackened earth where children once played.
"They scorched everything," Veyra whispered, her voice tight. "No mercy. Not even the wells."
Seraphine moved past the charred beams of a house still smoldering faintly. "Why here? Why would the Eclipse Guard burn a forgotten village?"
Ezren crouched near the remains of a shattered shrine. He ran his fingers across the floor—brushing away soot to reveal symbols scorched into the stone beneath.
"They weren't just destroying this place," he muttered. "They were covering something up."
Kael knelt beside him.
The symbols were ancient—older than even the demon tongue. Interwoven spirals and jagged crescents surrounded a central mark shaped like a flame curled around a drop of blood.
Seraphine inhaled sharply.
"I've seen that in a dream."
All eyes turned to her.
"What do you mean?" Kael asked.
Her voice was distant, like she was remembering something through a fog.
"The night your mother died. I had a dream. I was standing in a field of stars, and that symbol was carved into the sky. A voice said: When fire weds light, the Veil shall break."
Veyra stiffened. "That's prophecy. Ancient. Forbidden."
Ezren looked shaken. "That's why they burned the village. Someone here knew the truth about you two."
Seraphine stepped back. "You think our marriage was foretold?"
Kael said nothing at first. But the fire in his chest twisted.
"No," he said at last. "It wasn't just foretold."
He touched the symbol gently.
"It was feared."
They found the survivor beneath the chapel ruins.
A girl. No older than ten. Hidden beneath floorboards, breathing shallowly, wrapped in a scorched priest's cloak. Her eyes were too old for her face. Hollow.
She stared at them without flinching, even when Kael let his demon form flicker briefly to calm her fear of lies.
"I heard them," she whispered. "They said the Bloodfire must not live."
Kael knelt beside her. "What's your name?"
"Lilwen," she murmured.
"What did you see, Lilwen?"
The girl's voice trembled, but she spoke.
"The stars screamed. My mother woke me in the night. She said they were coming for the prophecy. She said… they'd kill the flame and the bride if they ever joined hands."
She looked at Seraphine. "You're the bride, aren't you?"
Seraphine nodded slowly. "And he's the flame."
Lilwen leaned forward. "Then you must run. Or the Veil will fall and monsters will come through."
Kael's voice was barely audible. "The Veil?"
"The thing that keeps the worse things out," she said. "The thing your mother died to protect."
They rode out that night.
Lilwen wrapped in Seraphine's arms, her small body trembling with exhaustion. Kael's mind churned with fire and questions.
The Veil.
The prophecy.
The bond between them that had always felt… larger than fate.
Ezren rode alongside him. "There's a part of the story we haven't been told."
Kael didn't respond at first.
Then he muttered, "Then we'll burn down the liars who kept it hidden."
Back in Velkaris, the traitor made their move.
The ancient vault had been opened. The starforged blade—Zerakh's Fang—had been taken. A blade known in demon lore not just for killing… but for undoing souls.
Agramor stood in the throne hall, pacing. "This weapon is cursed. Why steal it now?"
Maelrik growled, stalking the corridor. "Someone inside wants Kael gone before the Unification begins."
"Or wants Seraphine dead," murmured Varos, who had returned from the Shadow Realms with whispered omens in his wake.
Veyra's cousin, a demon seer, arrived that evening in a storm of crows and warnings.
"The stars have shifted," she rasped. "The wedding was the spark. The true fire begins when the Veil tears."
Maelrik clenched his fists. "And what happens when it tears?"
The seer's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Something older comes through."
At camp, Kael stared into the fire.
Seraphine approached, brushing her fingers along his shoulder. "You're too quiet."
"There's too much to consider," he said.
"Then consider this," she said, kneeling beside him. "If fate wrote our story before we could choose it… then we'll write our own ending."
Kael turned to her. "Even if the world burns?"
Her voice was calm.
"Then let it burn."
They kissed then—slow, fierce, aching.
Not out of romance.
But out of resolve.
They were no longer just prince and bride.
They were a spark born to burn down an empire.
And far away… something ancient stirred behind the thinning Veil.
Watching.
Waiting.
Whispering.
And far away… something ancient stirred behind the thinning Veil.
Watching.
Waiting.
Whispering.