Seraphina…?"
Caelan's voice cracked like glass in the dark.
He stood frozen beside our parents' lifeless bodies, his chest rising and falling in ragged, shallow breaths. His tunic was blood-splattered. His eyes—those same ruby eyes we shared—were wide with shock.
He hadn't seen me coming.
Neither had the man in the black cloak.
The figure tilted his head toward me, just slightly. The sword still dripped, a slow, steady rhythm tapping against the marble floor.
My lips parted. My voice was lost.
Caelan looked at me. Then at the blood. Then back at me.
> "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice shaking.
"I…" My throat burned. "I followed someone. I thought—there was a man in a cloak—he came this way."
The cloaked figure laughed softly. Not loud. Not mocking. Just… entertained.
> "Too early," he said to Caelan, his voice low and smooth. "She came too early."
Caelan turned to him, confusion and panic boiling behind his eyes. "What the hell is this? You said we'd have time—"
> "Plans change."
"I didn't agree to this," Caelan snapped, stepping back. "I said—no blood, no killing—"
The man didn't flinch.
> "And yet, here they are. Dead."
"And here she is. Alive. Watching."
His hood shifted slightly, revealing nothing but shadow where his face should've been.
> "The people won't believe you. Not like this."
"Then I'll tell them what happened!" Caelan hissed. "She's innocent—"
"They won't care," the man interrupted, calm as the sea before a storm. "But they will care about the symbol. The image. The heir with the blade in her hand."
Then he turned to me.
"And now, Princess… we begin."
Before I could move, before I could scream, a cold wind swept through the chamber. My body seized.
I gasped—sharp, shallow, like drowning in ice.
The sword in the man's hand vanished in a blink of black light. My hands burned—suddenly heavy.
I looked down.
The sword was in my grip.
My hands—covered in blood.
My arms—red to the elbow.
"No—no no no—" I dropped it, stumbling back.
But the damage was done.
I was standing exactly where the cloaked man had stood.
I looked up—
And he was gone.
Caelan stared at me.
He didn't move. He didn't speak. He just… looked.
His eyes held one question:
Do I save her?
Or do I save myself?
Footsteps echoed from the hall.
The guards were coming.
"Caelan," I whispered. "Please—tell them—say something—do something!"
His fists clenched.
His jaw tightened.
He looked at me.
And then—
He stepped away.