Silence. That was the first thing Valerian heard when consciousness clawed its way back — not voices, not footsteps, only the vast, hollow quiet of the Witch Empire.
He lay at the heart of the shattered relic chamber, surrounded by fragments of the Mirror. Every shard reflected the same moment — Shyla's face turned toward Nickolas, her vow echoing through light and shadow.
Ash sat nearby, exhaustion carved deep into his features. His fingers were blackened from spell burns, the mark of channeling magic meant for beings far older than himself.
"You've been gone for two nights," he said softly. "The artefact nearly tore you apart. The witches thought you'd been claimed by it."
Valerian stirred, pain flaring through every nerve. The air tasted of iron and smoke. His veins still shimmered faintly beneath his skin — streaks of silver and shadow, carved by the Heart of Binding.
"The artefact?" His voice was low, broken.
Ash nodded toward the altar. There it was — a crystalline heart pulsing with quiet, steady light. Alive. "It's bound to you now. But it changed you. I can feel it in the air."
Valerian dragged himself upright, the movement deliberate, heavy. "And Shyla?"
"The Council completed the ritual. She's bound to Nickolas — by the Blood Moon's decree."
For a moment, the room seemed to still. The runes dimmed, the torches faltered. Valerian's breath came slow, measured, as if he were fighting something inside — rage, sorrow, or both.
"She'll feel it," he murmured. "Even if the bond is cut… she'll feel the echo. She always does."
Ash watched him closely. "The artefact doesn't just answer your command, Valerian. It reflects your heart. Whatever you feel — it will mirror. Love, anger, grief. You must control it before it consumes you."
Valerian's gaze turned distant, fixed on the shards at his feet. "Then I'll teach it pain," he said quietly. "Because pain is all that's left."
He rose, cloak unfurling like a second shadow. The storm outside rolled across the Witch Empire's black towers, thunder cracking in rhythm with the artefact's pulse.
"The Council believes they've won," Ash said after a pause. "That by sealing her to Nickolas, they've broken your line. But the artefact is loyal to you. That alone terrifies them."
Valerian's lips curved — not in triumph, but grim purpose. "Good. Let them tremble. Because they haven't taken her from me. They've only tied her fate deeper into mine."
He reached for the artefact. The light within it responded, flickering brighter — feeding off his conviction.
Ash took a step closer. "You know this path leads to ruin. Every prophecy ends in the same warning — the one who defies the bond will bring down both realms."
Valerian turned, his eyes burning crimson against the blue firelight. "Then let both realms burn before I bow to prophecy."
The air thickened, alive with the hum of awakening power. The shards around them lifted from the floor, orbiting him in a halo of refracted light — reflections of every world tied by fate: the vampire empire, the witches' dominion, and the fragile human realm.
Ash stood silent, watching — not as a sorcerer, not as a manipulator, but as a brother in arms. He had known Valerian too long to doubt the depth of his resolve.
Finally, Valerian looked toward the storm beyond the citadel's spires. "She may wear his mark," he said softly, "but her soul… her soul still calls to mine."
The artefact pulsed — once, twice — as if answering.
Ash bowed his head. "Then may your heart be strong enough to bear the call, my lord."
Lightning tore opens the sky, bathing the Witch Empire in white fire. Valerian's silhouette stood against it — tall, still, unbroken — the heir who had lost everything yet refused to yield.
And as the thunder rolled, the artefact's glow spread through the chamber, sealing a new promise between two beings who had already lost too much.