The priest had vanished, but the blood-marked footprints remained — bold and recent, as though mocking him. Killian stared at them, his pulse still spiking from the encounter. The forest air was cold in his lungs, but his chest burned hotter than ever.
Invisible or not, the bastard was still here.
And still moving.
Killian followed, each step measured, careful. The prints weaved through the undergrowth with unnatural precision—no broken twigs, no disturbed leaves, just those blood-red imprints leading him deeper into shadow.
Minutes passed, then more. The trees began to thin.
And then he saw it.
An abandoned estate loomed, its silhouette carved against the stars like a forgotten crown. The stone walls were cracked, but not crumbling. And the closer he got, the more he felt it.
Magic. Old. Powerful. Watching.
Killian pushed the heavy doors open, expecting decay.
But what he found wasluxury frozen in time.
The chandelier above him glowed faintly, crystals flickering with trapped starlight. Dust danced in the air, but every surface gleamed beneath it—polished wood, golden statues, velvet tapestries. The air didn't smell rotten. It smelled like secrets.
"Where the hell is this place?" he muttered.
Following the blood trail deeper, Killian reached a door at the end of a narrow corridor. It pulsed with a faint, eerie light from beneath its edges, like something was alive inside.
He pushed the door open.
A massive chamber spread before him.
The walls curved in a perfect circle, covered in murals of the sun and moons colliding. In the center hovered a stone, suspended in the air by three dark spikes piercing upward from the ground. It was glowing violently—bright white with veins of electric blue pulsing through it.
The floating stone sang. Not with sound, but vibration. His Scar burned in response.
Killian stepped closer, eyes locked on it.
It was beautiful.
And dangerous.
"What the hell are you?" he whispered.
Suddenly—
CRACK.
A sharp pain exploded at the back of his skull.
His vision spun. Darkness rushed in. He reached for his sword—but it was too late.
Everything went black.
He woke to cold stone beneath him.
His head throbbed, his wrists bound by invisible energy, glowing runes circling them like chains. He struggled, but the bonds held fast.
And then—
He saw them.
Three priests stood before him. One in white. One in deep crimson. One in shadow-black. Their robes shimmered as they moved, faces pale but powerful, like they hadn't aged in centuries.
"Finally awake," the one in white said, his voice smooth like polished marble.
Killian snarled, sitting up with effort. "What the hell do you want?"
The priest in red smirked. "You followed the trail. You walked into our trap."
"Then untie me and fight me properly."
All three laughed—low, ancient laughter that echoed through the chamber like a curse.
"You really don't know, do you?" the black-robed one asked.
Killian's eyes narrowed. "Know what?"
The white-robed priest stepped forward. "Who are you. Who your parents were."
"I don't need your riddles," Killian snapped. "I need answers."
The priest's gaze hardened.
"You are the son of King Vaelen of Althear. A kingdom now lost to time, buried by betrayal. Your parents ruled not just with power, but with loyalty. They were building something extraordinary. And they weren't alone."
The red-robed priest continued. "Your parents had allies—two in particular. Lord Raezar and Lady Elira."
Killian froze.
Those names... they sounded familiar.
The black-robed priest added coldly, "Raezar and Elira were your parents' closest friends. They shared everything—trust, vision, hope."
"They were Saphira's parents," the priest in white finished.
Killian's stomach dropped.
No.
"No," he said aloud. "That can't be. Her parents are nobles from the West."
"They were nobles," the priest corrected. "Before they betrayed everything."
The red-robed one approached slowly, voice low and tight.
"They were the ones who broke the pact. Who sought darker knowledge. They began to study forbidden books—ancient witchcraft, rituals to bind magic to blood, to souls. They used a witch to open paths that should've stayed closed."
"They envied your parents," the black-robed priest said. "And when the time came—"
"They killed them," the white-robed one whispered. "Burned Althear to ash. And took the power for themselves."
Killian couldn't move.
The room spun. His chest tightened, the Scar searing across his heart like it was branding him all over again.
"They took everything from you."
"No," Killian whispered.
The memory—his nightmare—it came rushing back.
He had seen this before.
The fire.
The screams.
A woman—his mother?—crying out in anguish.
Blood on marble floors.
He had seen it in a dream once. A nightmare, vivid and burning, that woke him drenched in sweat and shaking. He'd told himself it meant nothing—just the mind playing games. Just fear and grief manifesting in strange, cruel ways.
But now, he knew.
It hadn't been a dream.
It had been a memory.
A buried truth clawing its way back to him in pieces.
His fists trembled against the invisible force binding him. And this time, the burn in his chest wasn't just the scar—it was rage.
Because everything was real.
And nothing would ever be the same again.
"Saphira," he whispered.
The black-robed priest sneered. "She's their daughter. The final pawn in their plan. She doesn't even know what she's meant to become."
"She will," said the red-robed one. "The mark will awaken her true blood."
Killian shook his head violently, hands straining against the magical binds. "No. She's not like them. She's not evil."
"Is she not?" the white-robed priest asked, his voice quiet but sharp. "And yet… You burn. Every time you're near her."
The chamber fell silent.
Killian's breathing faltered.
The Scar had always burned when she was close, when she touched him, when she looked at him like he mattered.
He had brushed it off, thought it was a side effect of the Scar.
Or maybe something else.
But now…
The red-robed priest stepped closer and crouched in front of him. "We don't need to convince you," he said softly. "You already know. Deep down."
His parents had trusted hers. They were supposed to rule together.
But her parents had wanted everything. Power. Control. The world.
And now… now Saphira had brought him on this journey.
Had asked him to come with her. Said she needed him.
Had she planned this?
Had she always known?
Was this whole thing just a setup—her way of handing him over, so she could finish what her parents started?
His heart sank like a stone. Every touch, every smile, every moment—it all twisted into something cold and cruel.
"She brought me here," he muttered, barely above a whisper. "She knew…"
"Yes," the red priest said. "She knew everything. You were the final piece. The last threat to her future."
Killian looked up, his voice hollow. "She wants to kill me."
"She wants your kingdom," the black-robed priest answered. "And then the rest of the world."
"She's just like them," Killian said, bitterness flooding his mouth. "She's been using me this whole time."
The priests grinned.
The room shook slightly. The stone floating above them flared brighter. The bindings around his hands cracked just faintly.
The red priest narrowed his eyes.
"The stone's reacting to him."
"Then we must end this."
A dagger appeared in his hand.
Killian's jaw clenched. He forced himself onto his knees, the magic still biting into his skin, but his eyes locked on the dagger.
He wasn't going to die like this. Not without a fight.
The priest raised the blade—
But suddenly, the stone made a loud noise
A piercing, ringing sound echoed through the chamber, making even the priests stagger. The light from the stone blazed white, exploding outward in a burst of force.
The walls cracked. The chandelier above crashed to the floor in a rain of crystal and dust.
And the bindings shattered.
Killian didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, grabbing the fallen chain at his side, swinging it hard. It caught the red priest by the shoulder and sent him sprawling backward.
"STOP HIM!" the black-robed priest bellowed.
But Killian was already moving, heart pounding, vision swimming from the aftershock of the stone's scream.
And then, through the smoke and chaos, he saw her.
A figure in the doorway.
Saphira.
Eyes wide..
But Killian didn't know whether she came to save him.
Or finish what her parents started.