Lucian didn't sleep that night. He tried—but every time his eyes closed, the dreams came.
Not the meaningless flickers of a tired mind.
They were too vivid. Too real.
He stood again in the ashes of an ancient war, the scent of burning roses heavy in the air.
The moon was crimson.
And across a battlefield strewn with broken swords, a woman stood—her gown torn, her hands glowing with light.
Her face was different, but her eyes… those eyes were the same.
Seraphina's eyes.
---
> "Lucian," she said, her voice echoing across the ruins.
"You've defied the gods for too long."
He raised his sword, but his hands trembled. "I did it for you."
> "Then you've damned us both."
A flash of light burst from her palms, striking the ground between them. The world splintered—stone turning to dust, wind howling through the remnants of what had been a temple.
Lucian tried to run to her, but something unseen dragged him backward—chains of light wrapping around his limbs, burning his skin.
> "Let me go!" he shouted.
> "If I do," she whispered, tears streaming down her face, "the curse will never end."
> "Then let it burn the heavens!"
He reached out for her—
—and everything went black.
---
Lucian jolted awake, breath ragged, sweat cold against his skin. The fire in the hearth had died out long ago, yet his body felt fever-hot.
He pressed a hand to his chest.
His heart was racing, but beneath that pulse, something else stirred. A whisper. A voice, not his own.
> You swore to destroy her.
He stood quickly, the echo still curling through his thoughts.
Destroy her? No… that wasn't right. He didn't want to hurt her.
Did he?
He looked at his reflection in the mirror. For a heartbeat, it wasn't him staring back—it was the man from the dream. A warlord, eyes dark with fury, lips bloodied with oaths.
Lucian stumbled back, gripping the table. "What are you showing me?"
But the reflection didn't answer. It only smiled.
---
Elsewhere in the manor, Seraphina woke with a gasp.
Her candle had gone out sometime in the night, but her room wasn't dark.
A faint golden glow pulsed from beneath her skin—along the scar on her wrist.
> "It's happening again," she whispered.
She rose, wrapping her robe around herself, and opened the small box she kept hidden under her bed. Inside was a crystal sphere—cracked, faintly humming.
When she touched it, an image rippled across its surface: Lucian, asleep, thrashing in pain. The curse was spreading faster this time. The mark on his palm had grown up his arm like ink veins.
Seraphina's throat tightened.
> "You'll kill yourself before dawn if I do nothing."
And yet… wasn't that what fate wanted? For him to die, for her to remember, and for the cycle to repeat?
No.
Not this time.
She slipped on her cloak and left the manor before the servants awoke. The streets were silent, mist curling around her boots. She moved like a shadow through the alleys until she reached the palace gates.
---
Inside his chamber, Lucian felt the air shift.
The flames of his candles rose suddenly, bending toward the door. A presence. Familiar.
The doors creaked open.
Seraphina stood there—pale, fierce, and trembling slightly.
> "You shouldn't be here," he said hoarsely.
> "Neither should your curse," she replied, crossing to him.
Her hand reached out, hovering over the mark on his arm. The black veins recoiled, almost as if afraid of her touch.
> "What are you doing?"
> "Ending your nightmare before it consumes you."
Her palm pressed against his. For a moment, there was only silence—then light exploded between them.
Images crashed through Lucian's mind: a temple burning, vows whispered under blood moons, a blade plunged through both their hearts.
And through it all, her voice.
> "I loved you even as I cursed you."
---
When the light faded, they were both on the floor—breathing hard, the mark on his arm faint but still there.
Lucian looked at her, shaken. "You're lying. You didn't curse me—you cursed us."
Seraphina met his eyes, her expression unreadable. "Then perhaps that's why fate refuses to let us rest."
Outside, the first light of dawn crept through the window.
Inside, two souls—bound by love, guilt, and centuries of tragedy—realized the truth.
The curse had never belonged to one of them.
It belonged to them both.