When I wake, the world smells of smoke and rain.
The air is warm—too warm—and laced with the faint metallic scent of blood. My skin prickles before my eyes even open. The sheets beneath me are black silk, soft and cool, and the steady pulse in the distance tells me I'm nowhere near Valemont anymore.
I sit up slowly, my body trembling. The last thing I remember is light—blinding, furious light—and Valen shouting my name before everything went silent. Now there's only stillness.
Then I see it.
The room is beautiful and terrible all at once. High ceilings carved with runes. Candles floating in midair, flickering with blue flame. Walls lined with mirrors that don't reflect me, only mist.
And in the center of it all—him.
Valen Thorne stands with his back to me, a dark silhouette framed by the light of a thousand burning sigils. His coat drapes like liquid shadow, and when he turns, I swear the air bends around him.
"Where am I?" My voice barely carries.
His gaze locks on me—silver, sharp, alive. "Safe," he says. "For now."
I almost laugh. "That's not an answer."
He steps closer. The floor hums under his boots. "You fainted when the gate broke. I brought you here."
"Here," I repeat, looking around. "Where vampires keep their… souvenirs?"
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "You're not a souvenir, Aradia. You're the reason this world still holds together."
The words slip through me like smoke. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Talk like you know me."
He stops just in front of me, and I have to tilt my chin up to meet his eyes. His presence is a gravity well—impossible to escape.
"I do know you," he says softly. "Every heartbeat, every flame that ever burned under your skin. You've just forgotten."
Something flickers inside me. Heat. Fear. Want. "And what are you, Valen Thorne? My captor? My savior?"
He studies me, silver eyes darkening. "Your ruin," he murmurs, "if you let me."
My breath catches. He raises a hand, and for a heartbeat, I think he's going to touch my face—but instead, he brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. His fingers don't quite graze my skin, but the space between us hums like lightning.
Every instinct in me says run. Every other says don't move.
"What are you?" I whisper.
"Exactly what they told you monsters were." His fangs glint in the candlelight. "And what you were born to command."
The words tilt my world. "Born to command?"
He moves closer, and suddenly, the candle flames brighten as if pulled toward us. "The Crown of Smoke and Bone wasn't just a name," he says. "It was a power. Yours. You ruled beside me once, in a realm that fell to ash."
I shake my head, heart racing. "That's insane."
"Is it?" His voice lowers. "Your blood carries fire no mortal could survive. You broke the veil tonight. The shadows woke because they felt you breathing."
He reaches out again—this time, his hand brushes mine. The touch burns and soothes all at once, a pulse of energy darting up my arm. My breath stutters.
Valen's eyes flash. "There it is," he says quietly. "The bond."
Before I can speak, a mark glows faintly on my wrist—a spiraling pattern of light and smoke. It matches the one etched on his palm.
"What did you—"
"I didn't do this," he says. "You did."
I want to deny it, to push him away, but the warmth blooming under my skin tells another story. It feels like being pulled by an invisible thread—one that leads straight to him.
"Why do I feel like this?" I whisper.
He steps closer, until there's barely a breath between us. "Because your soul remembers me even if your mind refuses to."
The space between us crackles. Every heartbeat feels like a thunderclap. The air smells of storm and iron.
"You shouldn't have found me," I whisper.
"And yet I did." His voice dips, dark velvet and danger. "Because fate is cruel, and I don't know how to stop wanting you."
Something inside me gives way. I can't tell if it's fear or desire—or both. When he leans in, the air itself seems to hold its breath. His words ghost against my skin:
"Your power burns brightest when you're not afraid of it."
Then he pulls back, eyes locked on mine, and slices his palm with a silver dagger. Blood beads dark and shining. He extends his hand. "Let me show you."
I stare at him, at the mark glowing between us. Every sane part of me screams no. But the other part—the one that dreams in fire—reaches forward.
When our hands meet, the world explodes.
Flame races up my arm, searing and electric. I gasp, light flooding my vision, memories spinning like shards of glass—crowns, thrones, the scent of burning roses, a kiss in the dark before betrayal.
And through it all, Valen's voice, rough and reverent: "Remember me."
The power surges, merging his blood with mine. For a heartbeat, I see him—not as he is now, but as he was: the prince who burned worlds for me.
Then the energy collapses, throwing us both backward. The candles extinguish. Silence.
I lie there, trembling, gasping for air. Across the room, Valen pushes himself up, his expression unreadable.
"What was that?" I whisper.
"The bond," he says hoarsely. "It's awakening."
A tremor runs through the floor. The runes on the walls flicker, then dim. Valen's expression shifts—alarm, sharp and sudden.
"What's wrong?"
"They've found you."
"Who?"
He doesn't answer. Instead, he grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet. "Stay behind me."
The air grows colder. Shadows pour through the cracks in the walls, coalescing into figures—eyes like burning coals, voices whispering her name.
Valen bares his fangs, the silver in his eyes blazing. "You dare cross my threshold?" he snarls.
The shadows hiss, their words twisted: The Crown has returned. The flame must die.
Valen steps forward, his power rippling like a storm. "Over my dead body."
He turns to me, his tone softer but edged with command. "If anything happens, run toward the light—do you hear me?"
I want to argue, to fight beside him, but before I can speak, the largest shadow lunges. Valen meets it midair, claws and fire colliding.
The room erupts into chaos—roaring wind, shattering glass, blood that glows like molten silver.
I try to reach him, but something seizes my wrist—cold, invisible, ancient. A whisper curls around me: Remember what you were, flame-born.
Pain lances through me. My mark burns so bright it hurts. The power I touched before surges again, unstoppable.
And when I scream, the entire world catches fire.
End Cliffhanger: His breath burned against my neck, the storm outside answering the chaos inside me. I could still feel his touch—seared into my skin like a brand—long after he stepped back. The air shimmered between us, heavy with something ancient and forbidden. For a heartbeat, his eyes flashed gold again, not the color of warmth, but of danger, of power.
Then he whispered my name—not "Aradia," but something older. A name I didn't know yet somehow recognized, one that made the ground tremble beneath us. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would tear free from my chest.
Before I could speak, the candles died out. Darkness swallowed the room whole. And in that silence, a low growl echoed—too close, too human, too monstrous.
He wasn't alone in the shadows.
And neither, it seemed… was I.