The scent of blood lingered long after the bodies were removed.
Kaelen's men dragged the corpses from the Sanctum's lower chamber, leaving behind only silence and the scorched runes that had flared during the fight. I stood over the cracked stone, still gripping the sword Lucian had given me, though my fingers ached from the effort.
I should have felt victorious.
But all I felt was hollow.
"You're still shaking," Lucian said gently.
"I took a life."
"You saved yours."
He stood close—too close—and yet I didn't move away. The heat of his presence was grounding. Dangerous. He didn't touch me, but his gaze did. It was intense, searing, but not cruel.
"The Temple will come harder next time," Kaelen said. He leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. "They won't make the mistake of underestimating her again."
"I don't want to be their enemy," I said.
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "They made you one the day they marked you as a threat."
Lucian added, "Your existence is their enemy. Not your choices."
A knock echoed from above. Nines appeared in the archway, flanked by Groot.
"We intercepted a scout on the northern ridge," Nines said, her violet eyes grim. "He carried a sealed scroll. It's addressed to the Temple's High Council… and it mentions the girl."
My blood ran cold.
Lucian took the scroll and broke the seal without hesitation. His jaw tightened as he read.
"Well?" Kaelen asked.
"They've invoked the Oath of Purging."
Kaelen swore. "They're declaring her a cursed anomaly. That gives them permission to kill her—publicly—and mark it holy."
"They'll move fast," Lucian murmured. "Before word of what happened here spreads. They can't afford to let the realm think the Temple failed."
I looked between them. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Lucian said slowly, "they'll bring an Inquisitor."
The name alone made the temperature drop.
Kaelen's expression turned cold. "Which one?"
Lucian hesitated, then said, "The Hollow-Eyed Saint."
The room fell silent.
Even Nines looked unsettled. "They're sending her?"
Groot muttered, "She doesn't leave the Inner Sanctum. Not unless a prophecy is involved."
Prophecy.
The word echoed inside me.
I remembered the masked attacker calling me The Flame of the Betrayer. I remembered the mark burning on my palm. The strength that wasn't mine—but had answered anyway.
"What prophecy?" I asked.
Lucian looked at me for a long, long moment. "You were born during a Blood Eclipse. That hasn't happened in three centuries."
"So?"
"So was I."
I stared at him. "What does that mean?"
Kaelen answered, grim. "There's a prophecy that says when two Blood Eclipse-borns cross paths, one will unmake the world—and the other will be the key to stop them."
Lucian's voice was low. "They believe you're the key."
"And you?" I whispered.
"They're not sure," he said quietly. "Which is why they want us apart—or dead."
The silence between us grew taut.
I took a step back, suddenly breathless. "What if they're right?"
Lucian moved toward me, slowly, deliberately. "They've spent centuries trying to erase what they don't understand. You aren't cursed, Ciara. You're awakening. That's why the Temple is afraid."
My chest tightened. "And you?"
He tilted his head. "I'm not afraid of you."
Kaelen cleared his throat. "We don't have time for soul-staring. The Inquisitor could be here in a matter of days. If we want to survive her… she needs to be trained."
"She will be," Lucian said. "Starting now."
Kaelen raised a brow. "You think you can do what decades of training couldn't?"
Lucian turned to me. "She doesn't need to be what the Temple trained. She needs to become what they fear."
And in that moment, I saw it—not the monster the world claimed him to be, not the cursed prince exiled by blood and betrayal.
I saw the man who would burn down heaven to keep me breathing.
And something inside me whispered:
You were never meant to be hidden.
Lucian didn't wait for my answer. He simply extended a hand.
"Come," he said. "The upper courtyard is clear. You'll train under the stars tonight."
Kaelen muttered something about madness but followed anyway. Nines gave me an encouraging nod as I passed. Groot just grunted and disappeared into the shadows.
We climbed silently—through winding stone stairs and past balconies carved into the mountain's bones—until we emerged into a terrace open to the night sky.
The moon was gone.
Of course it was.
Only stars bore witness to what came next.
Lucian drew a circle on the ground with powdered silver and spoke words in a language older than blood. The moment he finished, my mark pulsed again—this time slower, steadier. I could breathe.
"What is this?" I whispered.
"Sanctified ground," he said. "It dulls the fear. Clears the mind. If your gift is to awaken, you need to meet it without panic."
Kaelen tossed me a training dagger. "We start with control. If you can't direct what's inside you, you'll burn yourself alive."
I caught the dagger—but my hand was already trembling.
Lucian circled me, voice calm and low. "You tapped into your power by accident. But it's part of you now. Let's find the line between instinct and intention."
I nodded, swallowing the dryness in my throat.
Kaelen lunged without warning.
My body reacted before I could think.
I twisted, brought up the blade, and parried just enough to divert him off balance. It wasn't perfect—but it was faster than anything I'd done before.
The silver circle flared faintly.
Lucian stepped closer, eyes locked on me. "Again."
Strike. Block. Sidestep.
Each movement felt… easier. Like I wasn't fighting myself anymore.
Then the mark on my skin flared—and I felt it.
A pulse of heat behind my ribs. Not rage. Not fear.
Will.
It answered me like a second heartbeat.
This time, when Kaelen feinted left and struck right, I didn't dodge—I turned with it, using the force to redirect him into the dirt. He hit the ground hard, cursing.
Lucian gave a rare, pleased smile. "That was control."
Kaelen stood, brushing himself off with a grunt. "She's learning fast."
But Lucian wasn't done. He stepped into the circle with me, drawing his own blade—not the ceremonial one from before, but the cursed steel forged in the Crimson Court.
"Now," he said. "You face me."
My breath caught. "What? I can't—"
"You can. And you will."
"Why?"
He met my gaze with cool fire.
"Because I need to know what breaks you before she arrives."
"The Inquisitor?"
He nodded once. "She'll tear into your mind, your magic, your past. If you hesitate, you die."
I swallowed hard.
Then raised my blade.
He attacked like lightning.
There was no mercy in it. No restraint.
He pressed me hard, testing every flaw, every weakness. Sparks flew from our blades. My arms ached. My lungs burned. I wanted to scream—but I didn't stop.
Strike. Parry. Block. Roll.
And then—
CRACK.
Our blades locked—and I looked up into his face.
That was when I saw it.
Not anger.
Pride.
And something deeper.
Possession.
"I told you," he said, voice low and dark. "You weren't made to be broken. You were made to survive."
The mark on my hand glowed gold.
His own mark flared in crimson.
And for a heartbeat—just one—we weren't training anymore.
We were connected.
Bound.
Fated.
But the moment shattered when Kaelen called out from the edge of the terrace.
"Rider approaching. Fast."
Lucian turned, expression darkening. "Whose banner?"
Kaelen's tone dropped. "None. But they wear the Inquisition seal."
Lucian's blade lowered—but his stance didn't relax.
"Get her below," he ordered Kaelen. "Seal the Sanctum doors."
I stepped forward. "No. I want to see who they send."
"Not yet," he said, turning to me. "You're not ready for her."
"She won't wait for me to be."
Lucian stared at me. Then nodded, slow.
"Then let the Hollow-Eyed Saint come," he said.
"She won't find a weapon."
"She'll find a war."
The wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of rust and something… burnt. I didn't realize I'd taken a step closer to Lucian until he looked down and reached for my hand.
"You feel it too," he said quietly.
I nodded. "Something's wrong."
Kaelen was already descending the northern path, his silhouette swallowed by mist. Groot and Nines flanked the inner perimeter. Whatever approached us wasn't subtle—it wanted to be seen.
The sound of hooves on stone echoed through the pass.
Then—emerging from the white fog—a rider appeared.
Black armor, layered like the plates of an insect. A long crimson cloak trailing behind. And at the front of their chest, etched in glinting silver—
The seal of the Inquisition: a burning halo strangled by chains.
Kaelen's voice rang out. "Drop your weapon."
The rider didn't obey.
Instead, she removed her helmet slowly.
A woman's face, pale and angular, emerged. Her hair was bone-white and braided down her back, streaked with crimson thread. Her eyes? Hollow. Black pits where irises should be.
Lucian cursed under his breath.
"The Hollow-Eyed Saint," he murmured.
I stiffened. "She's the one you said would tear through my mind?"
"No," Lucian said grimly. "She'll walk through it like it's hers."
Kaelen approached her, swords drawn but steady. "State your name and purpose."
"I am Inquisitor Seraphine Elaris of the Second Circle," she replied, voice cold and measured. "I've come for the Flamebearer."
Her eyes shifted. Locked on me.
"She is bound by old law and prophecy. She carries a mark she has not earned. Her presence here is a breach of the Pact."
Lucian stepped between us again.
"She is under my protection."
"Then your soul is forfeit too, Prince of Ruin."
That name.
My breath caught.
Lucian didn't flinch.
But Kaelen did.
"You knew the price," Seraphine continued. "The Temple made its decree long ago. She was never meant to rise."
"She didn't rise," Lucian replied coldly. "She was awakened."
The Inquisitor dismounted.
As her feet touched the ground, the silver runes carved into the stone shattered.
Power spilled into the terrace like ice water down my spine.
Seraphine raised one hand.
And my mark burned.
I staggered back, clutching my wrist.
Lucian growled—yes, growled—and lunged.
His blade met hers mid-air, a clash that cracked the night itself.
Sparks flew. Shadows danced. The ground trembled.
Seraphine's voice was calm, even as she blocked every one of his strikes.
"You trained her too late. You protected her too long."
Lucian gritted his teeth, pressing her back. "And you talk too much."
I tried to rise, but pain lanced through me again—my mark glowing gold-hot.
Seraphine looked at me once more, even as she fought. "When it consumes you, remember this moment. You chose to defy the gods."
"Then let the gods bleed," I spat.
And just like that, something inside me snapped.
The mark pulsed—and I reached for it. Not ran from it. Not silenced it.
Embraced it.
A jolt of power surged through my body. My vision turned white for a heartbeat. I stood—and the silver runes beneath my feet ignited.
Lucian faltered—only for a moment—before stepping aside.
Giving me space.
Letting me stand.
Seraphine's expression didn't change. But her blade dipped—ever so slightly.
"You're no longer sleeping," she said.
"No," I replied.
"I'm finally awake."
The terrace trembled beneath us.
Kaelen stepped beside me, voice tight with awe. "The Pact is broken."
Lucian nodded, blade lowered but ready. "And war is coming."
I raised my weapon and looked Seraphine in the eye.
"I may not know what I am," I said.
"But I'm not yours."