Silence.
Heavy. Endless. Black.
Aira's ears rang as if thunder had torn the sky apart. She blinked rapidly, vision blurred, breath shallow. The last thing she remembered was the flash of a dagger—cold, merciless—and Lucien's voice screaming her name.
Where was he now?
Where was she?
The ground beneath her was damp. Cold. She reached out and touched it—stone. She was in some kind of underground chamber. The air was thick with incense, smoke, and something far worse… betrayal.
"Aira," a voice whispered.
She sat up quickly. Pain screamed through her shoulder. She was bleeding.
"Lucien?" she whispered back.
Footsteps echoed from the corridor beyond the iron bars.
But it wasn't Lucien.
It was him.
The man in red. Her brother.
"Rest well, dear sister?" he said mockingly. "I made sure the blade wouldn't kill you. Yet."
Her fingers curled into fists. "Why are you doing this?"
He knelt in front of the bars. "Because you took everything. The light. The prophecy. The crown. Mother's love. I was destined to be the heir of fire. But you—" he spat the word—"you were chosen instead. The girl who ran."
"I didn't choose this!" Aira shouted.
"And yet you wear it like a queen," he said bitterly. "Do you know what they call me in the underworld, Aira? The Forgotten Flame. But I'm done hiding. Tonight, during the Eclipse Ritual, I will burn your destiny… and take it for myself."
He stood and walked away.
But before the darkness swallowed him, he said one more thing.
"Oh… and Lucien? He's dead."
Aira's breath shattered.
No. No, it couldn't be.
Not Lucien.
Tears blurred her eyes—but then something caught her attention.
A tiny piece of paper… folded between the bars. Her hands trembled as she pulled it close.
It read:
> "I'm alive. Trust no one. Midnight is your chance. — L"
Aira's heart surged with hope.
Lucien was alive.
And she wasn't done yet.
But as the bell tolled above, signaling the ritual's beginning, the torches in the hallway lit up—revealing someone else approaching.
Not her brother.
Not Lucien.
But someone she never expected to see again.
Someone she buried with her past.
Her father.
Aira staggered to her feet as the torchlight revealed the tall figure of her father—Lord Ronan Velmora, once thought to have perished during the Great Purge.
Her heart thundered in her chest. "No… this can't be real."
But the scar along his left brow, the cold steel in his eyes—it was him. Older, more haunted, but undeniably her father.
"Hello, Aira," he said quietly, voice sharp like a blade wrapped in silk. "You've grown into her image."
Aira stared at him, disbelief wrapped around her throat like chains. "You were dead… We buried you."
He stepped closer, ignoring the bars between them. "You buried a lie. I was betrayed, thrown into exile by your brother's followers when he turned to the shadows. I've lived in hiding… waiting for the moment to reclaim everything."
"Why now?" Aira whispered. "Why come back now?"
"Because the Eclipse Ritual isn't just a ceremony," he said, eyes darkening. "It's a gate. And your brother intends to use your blood to open it."
Aira's knees almost gave way.
"My… blood?"
Her father nodded grimly. "You're the key. The last heir of the Lightbound Line. Your magic doesn't just glow—it awakens. He wants to unleash something darker than even I believed existed."
"Then help me stop him," she pleaded. "Help me escape. Lucien's still alive—he left me a message."
But Ronan's face shifted.
Hard.
Cold.
"Lucien," he spat the name. "The cursed son of the Devil House? He's the reason your destiny was delayed. You trust him?"
"He's saved me more than once," she shot back.
Her father stepped closer to the bars. "Then you're as blind as your mother was."
Aira's spine straightened. "If you came back to save me, help me. But if you're just another player in this war… get out of my way."
He studied her, something flickering in his eyes. Pride? Pain?
"I will do what must be done," he said. "Even if that means killing your brother… and the Devil Heir."
Then, without warning—
A blade clanged against the bars from the side.
Ronan turned—
But the attack was meant for Aira.
A figure cloaked in black had snuck through the shadows.
Aira ducked just in time, the blade slicing past her cheek.
"Guards!" her father roared, but no one came.
Because the guard… was the attacker.
Blood dripped from Aira's cheek as she backed away.
And then—
The cloaked figure pulled back their hood.
A girl.
Red hair. Ice-blue eyes.
Seraphine.
Lucien's fiancée.
"You should have died, Aira," Seraphine whispered. "But don't worry. I'll finish it tonight—before he chooses you over me."
Aira's eyes widened.
And that's when everything clicked.
It wasn't just the Eclipse Ritual.
It wasn't just her brother.
There were more enemies than she ever imagined
Aira stared into Seraphine's cold, unblinking eyes, the cut on her cheek stinging like fire—but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing inside her.
Lucien's fiancée.
The one who had always smiled with grace and stood by his side during public events.
She was a trained killer.
"I should've known," Aira whispered, breath trembling. "You were never just a pretty face."
Seraphine stepped forward, the blood-tipped dagger gleaming under the flickering torchlight. "You don't belong here. You were a mistake—an orphan wrapped in mystery. He was mine until you came."
Aira's back hit the cold stone wall of the prison. Her father reached for his sword—
But Seraphine threw a vial to the ground. Smoke burst up in a choking flash, and Ronan coughed violently, disoriented.
Aira leapt to the side as Seraphine slashed again, missing her by a breath.
"I never lose," Seraphine hissed. "Not to someone like you."
Aira's hands lit up with faint golden light—unstable, but pulsing with raw power.
"You really shouldn't have come here alone," Aira whispered.
With a sudden push of energy, she sent Seraphine flying back against the bars. The redhead hit them hard, groaning, but she didn't fall unconscious.
Instead… she smiled.
"You activated it," Seraphine said through a wheeze. "You foolish little girl… the mark is now complete."
Aira froze. "What?"
"You released your blood and your magic in the same place… beneath the palace. Do you even know what you've done?"
The floor trembled.
Ronan stood quickly, sword drawn, his expression twisted in horror.
"No… Not now. Not here."
The wall behind Aira cracked.
From the shadows… came a voice.
"It begins."
A hand of black smoke reached through the crack in the stone—cold, long, inhuman.
Aira's heart dropped.
Seraphine was laughing. "You were supposed to die. Not summon him."
"Who—" Aira turned to her father, panic rising. "Who is that?!"
Ronan whispered in dread: "The Forgotten King."
Aira's body refused to move. The icy black hand slithering through the crack oozed with power—so ancient, it felt wrong just to breathe near it. The very air turned cold.
Ronan rushed to Aira's side, shielding her. "You were never supposed to see this."
"But who is he?" Aira asked, eyes locked on the widening crack in the wall. "Who is the Forgotten King?"
Seraphine was still grinning, even as blood trickled down her temple. "You mean your ancestor? The one who nearly brought the entire world to its knees?"
Ronan's sword trembled in his grip.
"Centuries ago," he muttered, "the royal bloodline hid a dark truth. The first ruler of this kingdom, King Artheon… was corrupted by immortality. He fed on power. Betrayed the gods. They bound him under the palace and cursed his name out of history."
Aira's lips parted in disbelief. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"Because the curse is tied to blood," Ronan replied gravely. "Only one of his descendants can awaken or destroy him."
"And thanks to Seraphine," he growled, "the first option just became reality."
A groaning, grinding noise echoed as the wall shattered completely.
A dark throne stood behind it—made of bone and shadow.
And on it…
A pale man with white hair, glowing red eyes, and silver chains around his wrists slowly raised his head.
His gaze locked onto Aira.
"You… look just like her," he whispered. "The one who betrayed me."
Aira stepped back, trembling. "I'm not her."
"No," the Forgotten King said with a slow, dangerous smile. "But your soul remembers mine."
He raised a single chained finger—and the dungeon shook.
Seraphine whispered gleefully, "Now the real war begins."
The ceiling cracked. Dust and magic exploded in the air.
Ronan pushed Aira behind him. "Go. Find Lucien. He's the only one strong enough to hold him back now."
Aira turned, ready to run—but before she could move, the King vanished from the throne—
—and appeared right in front of her.
His hand brushed her cheek.
"You're mine," he whispered.
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TO BE CONTINUED
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