The silence between them lingered long after the kiss ended.
Aelia stayed close, eyes half-lowered, the soft glow of firelight painting her face in gold and amber. Kael hadn't moved, as if any motion would tear the fragile peace they'd found.
Then—
CRACK.
The sound split the air like a bone snapping.
Aelia jolted. Kael rose in an instant, already reaching for the dagger she hadn't seen tucked behind the candelabra on the table. His face hardened — not into anger, but into awareness. Like a man who'd been waiting for something to shatter.
"What was that?" Aelia whispered.
He didn't answer. His eyes were on the ceiling.
Another sound came — not loud, but heavy. Like footsteps dragging across stone.
But no one walked above this wing.
---
Kael crossed the room swiftly, pulled open the doors.
Nothing.
The corridor outside was empty, the torchlights dimmer than usual, flickering as though gasping for air.
Then Aelia heard it.
Whispers.
Low. Chanting. Not in any language she knew, but it pulled at her bones — like an echo from a forgotten life.
"Stay here," Kael said sharply.
She stood. "I'm not staying behind."
His eyes flicked to her — not annoyed, but troubled. "If it's what I think… it doesn't want you to leave this wing."
Aelia's blood ran cold. "What is it?"
Kael hesitated. Just for a moment.
Then: "The palace is alive. It remembers all who've walked these halls. Including those who should never have been brought back."
---
✧
They moved together down the corridor.
Aelia could feel it. The wrongness in the air. The shadows seemed to crawl across the walls. The torches hissed, struggling to stay lit.
And then she saw it.
At the end of the hall — where the queen's chamber once lay — stood a figure.
Not a ghost. Not quite flesh.
Tall, cloaked in shadow, its face hidden beneath a silver veil that fluttered despite the still air. Long hair spilled down its shoulders like black silk, and from beneath the veil came a low, pulsing chant.
Kael froze.
Aelia glanced up at him. His face had gone pale.
"…Lysara?" she whispered.
The figure lifted its head.
You should not be here.
The voice was not spoken — it was thought, pressed into Aelia's mind like a branding iron.
She staggered.
Kael stepped in front of her instantly, his arm outstretched, shielding her. "You have no place in this time," he said coldly.
The veil shimmered.
And yet you bring her into mine.
A mirror. A replacement. You've learned nothing, Azrik.
Aelia blinked.
Azrik.
That name again. The name they whispered in the village. The name written in the curse.
She grabbed Kael's arm. "She's not just a memory, is she?"
Kael said nothing.
The figure stepped closer, not walking — floating. With each movement, the torches flickered out one by one behind her.
The curse is not broken. You dare kiss another while I still burn?
Kael clenched his fists. "You made your choice, Lysara."
And you made yours.
The shadows surged.
Kael shoved Aelia back. "Run!"
But the hallway behind her had vanished.
The walls had closed in.
And the queen's ghost — Lysara — raised one hand, her shadow lashing forward like a blade.
---
Aelia didn't think.
She reached for the only thing she could feel: Kael's hand.
Their fingers met — and the moment they touched, a bright light burst from her palm, cracking across the hallway like lightning.
Lysara screamed — a sound that made the stone tremble.
And then she vanished.
The hall returned to stillness.
---
Kael turned to Aelia slowly, chest rising, breathing hard.
She was trembling.
"…What just happened?" she asked.
He stared at her hand.
"You're not just her reflection," he murmured. "You're something else entirely."
---