Peace, like dreams, never lasts.
Weeks after their return from the second Gate, Elaria and Kael wandered the golden fields beyond Raventhorn. The skies had turned softer, the scent of spring reaching even the coldest stones of the keep. Farmers sowed seeds again. Children laughed. And yet—
Something watched.
Kael knew it first. His senses, honed by centuries of hunting, tasted the shift in wind. The pressure beneath the earth. The twitch of reality.
"The Hollow Gate was sealed," Elaria said, running fingers through wildflowers. "But the dream changed."
Kael, in human form, stood shirtless in the sun, dark runes glowing faintly along his spine. "We didn't kill it. We only sent it deeper."
Elaria turned to him. "Then we go deeper still."
They left that night, riding wind and starlight.
North, beyond the ruined kingdoms. Beyond the singing sands. Into the realm of forgotten kings: Meravenn.
It was said to be the place where the first Hollowborne rose—where the crown of flame was first lit by betrayal.
Their journey was riddled with visions.
Each time they crossed a leyline, Kael saw flickers—ghosts of dragons devoured by their own madness.
Elaria saw memories that weren't hers. A woman in chains, giving birth to a creature made of void. A man with Kael's eyes screaming as his soul was torn in half.
They held each other in the dark. They whispered through their fears. And when words weren't enough, they burned the silence with kisses that curled the world around them.
Their bond had grown unbearable in its beauty. And dangerous.
They were becoming something more.
In Meravenn, the world was ash.
Mountains melted. Trees petrified in mid-scream. Rivers ran backward.
And in the center stood the Crown.
A city made of thorns and bone, its towers clawing the sky. The throne of the First Hollow King still stood atop its jagged keep. Empty.
"There," Kael whispered. "That's where it began."
Inside the throne room, time bent.
They saw themselves—not as they were, but as they could become. Elaria in robes of crimson flame, Kael wrapped in chains of lightning.
A prophecy etched into the marble walls: The fire that loves shall consume the stars.
Then came the voice.
"You are not the first."
From the shadows stepped a woman.
Skin like cracked obsidian. Hair like flowing dusk. Her eyes were voids filled with thunder.
"I was the queen before the world forgot queens. I wore the Crown before it burned."
Kael growled, "You fed the Hollow Gate."
She smiled. "I birthed it."
Elaria drew her blade. "Then we end you."
The woman laughed, the sound cutting through their bones.
"You cannot end what you are becoming. Look into yourselves. You've already taken in the dark."
She was right.
Kael's scales shimmered not just with fire—but with void.
Elaria's magic had begun whispering in Hollow tongues.
Their bond was changing them.
The Crown pulsed above, responding.
"Take it," the woman said. "One of you must. Or the world unravels."
Kael turned to Elaria. "If I take it—"
"You'll lose yourself."
"But you—"
She stepped toward him. Pressed her hand to his chest.
"We share this burden."
They touched the Crown together.
Pain erupted. Their bodies split and bled light. Their love burned through memory, through time.
They screamed.
And the Crown accepted them.
They awoke in the sky.
Not flying—floating. Above the world.
The woman was gone. The throne shattered. The city of bone burned.
In Elaria's eyes: stars.
In Kael's hands: flame and shadow, perfectly balanced.
They had taken the Crown.
But something else had taken root inside them.
In the days that followed, they traveled in silence.
Elaria dreamed in fire. Spoke in riddles.
Kael's body shifted without command, his dragon form morphing with shadows.
They still loved—but that love had teeth now. It clawed at their minds.
Until one night, under a red moon, they fought.
Words first.
Then spells.
Then claws and blades.
Elaria struck Kael's wing. He slammed her to the ground. Their powers roared. The earth cracked.
And then—
They kissed, weeping.
"We're not ourselves anymore," she sobbed.
"We are more," he said. "And that terrifies me."
They made love like dying stars.
Clothing shredded. Magic wild. Bodies marked with runes of longing.
She rode him with fire in her veins, moaning words no human had ever spoken.
He bit her shoulder, filled her with ancient heat, and they melted into each other.
It wasn't just erotic—it was apocalyptic.
When they climaxed, the forest around them burst into bloom.
And silence followed.
A knowing silence.
The world had changed.
Again.
In the distance, a new Gate pulsed.
But this one—this one had their names on it.