Seraphina's POV
"Your father's army will be here in three days."
Lady Iskra's words hung in the air like a death sentence. We stood in what used to be the palace training grounds—now just an open field covered in ash and rubble from the explosion.
"Three days," I repeated numbly. My hands still trembled from nearly losing Kael. Now this. "How many soldiers?"
"Five thousand. Maybe more." Iskra crossed her arms. "The southern provinces have been preparing for this rebellion for months. Your father planned it all—sending you here, waiting for you to die, using your death as justification. But now that you're alive and powerful, he's changed tactics."
"What do you mean?"
"He's calling you a witch who seduced the Emperor. Says you used dark magic to destroy the palace and kill innocent people." Iskra's jaw clenched. "He's painting himself as a hero coming to 'rescue' the empire from evil."
My stomach twisted. Of course. My father always knew how to twist the truth.
"We need to prepare," Kael said, limping over to us. He was still recovering from dying, and it showed. His face was pale, his movements slow. "Gather what's left of our forces. Fortify the city boundaries. Send messengers to the northern provinces for reinforcements—"
"Kael, you can barely stand," I interrupted.
"I'll manage."
"You'll collapse." I put my hand on his arm. Through our bond, I felt his exhaustion, his pain. He was pushing himself too hard. "You need rest."
"I need to protect my people." He met my eyes with stubborn determination. "That includes you."
"I'm immortal now, remember? Divine. I don't need protecting."
"Everyone needs protecting," Iskra cut in. "Even goddesses. Especially goddesses who don't know how to fight."
I blinked. "What?"
"Your divine power is impressive," Iskra said bluntly. "You can shoot golden light and free souls. But can you actually fight? Hand to hand? Sword to sword? Because your father's soldiers won't stand politely while you figure out magic spells."
She was right. In all the chaos—awakening my power, bonding with Kael, fighting Mordain—I'd never actually learned to defend myself physically.
"Then teach me," I said.
Iskra smiled. It wasn't a kind smile. "I was hoping you'd say that. Training starts now."
"Again!"
I hit the ground for the tenth time, dust filling my mouth. My whole body ached. My divine power did nothing to stop the pain of Iskra throwing me like a ragdoll.
"You're relying too much on magic," Iskra said, offering her hand to pull me up. "Magic is powerful, but it has limits. Exhaustion. Distraction. Surprise attacks. You need to know how to fight when magic fails."
"When will it fail?" I gasped, accepting her hand.
"When your father uses that curse fragment he stole." Iskra's face was grim. "Dark magic can suppress divine power. Mordain did it to your ancestor Thalia—that's how he lived so long. If Duke Ashford figures out how to use the fragment properly, he could cut you off from your magic entirely."
The thought terrified me. "Then what do I do?"
"You fight like a mortal." Iskra tossed me a wooden practice sword. "Now defend yourself."
She attacked immediately—no warning, no mercy. I barely managed to raise the sword before hers crashed against it, the impact jarring my arms.
"Too slow!" Iskra circled me. "Your enemies won't wait for you to be ready. They'll strike when you're weak, distracted, vulnerable."
She lunged again. This time I dodged, and felt a small surge of pride.
"Better. But predictable." Iskra swept my legs out from under me. I crashed down again. "You telegraph your moves. I can see what you're going to do before you do it."
"How?" I groaned.
"Your eyes. Your shoulders. Your weight shift." She demonstrated, moving in slow motion. "Every body movement is a signal. Learn to read your opponent's signals while hiding your own."
We trained for hours. My mortal body—now immortal but still feeling pain—screamed for rest. But Iskra was relentless.
"The emperor can't protect you because he's mortal now," she said, echoing words from what felt like a lifetime ago. "And I won't always be at your side. You must protect yourself."
During a water break, I finally asked what had been bothering me. "Why are you helping me? Really?"
Iskra stared at the ruins of the palace. "I knew Kael before the curse. He was my friend—kind, just, full of life. Then Elara died, and Thalia cursed him, and he became... empty. I watched him for three hundred years, hoping someone would break the curse." She looked at me. "When you smiled at him in his study that first night—when you laughed at his cruelty and called it honesty—I felt the magic shift. I knew you were different."
"I didn't do anything special," I protested. "I was just... being honest."
"Exactly." Iskra smiled. "The others who came here—they tried to seduce him, manipulate him, earn his favor. You just existed as yourself. That's what broke through." She stood. "Now get up. We're not done."
We trained until sunset. By then, I could block three of Iskra's attacks before she knocked me down. Progress.
"Tomorrow, we work on poisons," Iskra said. "How to identify them, neutralize them, and survive them if you're too late."
"Poisons," I repeated weakly.
"Court ladies are worse than soldiers sometimes." Iskra helped me stand. "At least soldiers are honest about wanting you dead."
As we walked back to the camp—the survivors had set up temporary shelters around the city—Ryn approached with a grim expression.
"Your Majesties," he said, bowing to both me and Kael. "We've received a message from Duke Ashford."
Kael took the letter. I read over his shoulder, my heart sinking with every word:
"Dear Daughter,
I must applaud your performance. Seducing the Emperor, destroying the palace, eliminating Mordain—all very impressive. You've exceeded my expectations.
But did you really think I'd let you win? I sent you to die, not to claim a throne.
The curse fragment I took is more powerful than you imagine. With Mordain's notes and the right rituals, I can remake the curse—not to trap one emperor, but to control him. Make him my puppet. And through him, rule the entire empire.
You have three days to surrender yourself. Come alone, give up your divine power, and I'll spare the innocent people of this city. Refuse, and I'll raze it to the ground with you inside.
Oh, and one more thing—I have Celestine with me. Your dear sister sends her regards. She's been such a help in planning this invasion. We're a family again, working together. Just like you always wanted.
Choose wisely, daughter. Your life for thousands, or your pride for ashes.
Your loving father,Duke Marcus Ashford"
My hands shook. He had Celestine. Was using the curse fragment. Could control Kael.
"It's a trap," Kael said immediately. "He won't spare the city. He'll take your power and still attack."
"I know." But part of me wondered—what if he was telling the truth? Could I risk thousands of lives on the assumption my father was lying?
"You're not considering this," Iskra said sharply. "Tell me you're not actually thinking about surrendering."
"I—"
A scream cut through the camp.
We ran toward the sound and found chaos. People were collapsing—dozens of them, clutching their throats, gasping for air.
"Poison!" a healer shouted. "The water supply! Someone poisoned the wells!"
My stomach dropped. "How many?"
"Half the camp drank from them. Maybe two hundred people."
I rushed to the nearest victim—a young boy, no older than ten. His lips were turning blue. Through my divine power, I could sense the poison spreading through his body, shutting down his organs.
I pressed my hands to his chest and channeled healing magic. Golden light flowed into him, pushing back the poison, repairing the damage. He gasped and began breathing normally.
"Seraphina," Kael said urgently. "There are two hundred people poisoned. Can you heal them all?"
I looked around at the dozens of people collapsing, dying. I felt my power—vast but not infinite. Could I heal two hundred people before my magic exhausted?
"I'll try," I said.
I spent the next hour moving from person to person, pouring my power into each one. The effort was draining in a way physical training never was. This wasn't about my body being tired—it was my soul, my very essence being stretched thin.
By the time I healed the last person—an elderly woman who reminded me of Mira—I could barely stand. The golden glow around me had faded to a dim flicker.
"That's enough," Kael said, catching me as I swayed. "You need to rest."
"But if there are more—"
"There aren't. You saved them all." He held me tight, and through our bond, I felt his pride mixed with concern. "But you've exhausted your power. You're vulnerable now."
He was right. I felt hollow, empty. Like the magic that had filled me was temporarily gone, leaving just... me. Mortal. Weak.
"How long until it comes back?" Iskra asked.
"I don't know," I admitted. "Hours? Days?"
"We'll keep you safe until then," Kael promised.
But even as he said it, a messenger ran up, panic in his eyes.
"Your Majesties! The lookouts spotted something!"
"The army?" Iskra demanded. "They're early?"
"No. Something else." The messenger's voice shook. "There are people walking toward the city. Hundreds of them. But they're... wrong. They move strangely. And their eyes—"
"Their eyes are what?" I asked.
"Dead, Your Majesty. Their eyes are dead."
My blood turned cold. "Corpses. Like the brides."
"Impossible," Ryn said. "You freed all those souls. Elara is gone."
"Elara is gone," Iskra agreed. "But Duke Ashford has a curse fragment. And if he figured out how to use it..."
She didn't need to finish. We all understood.
My father had found a way to raise the dead.
And he was sending an army of corpses to attack us while my power was exhausted and I couldn't fight back.
Kael pulled me close, his mortal body warm against mine. "We'll figure this out. Together."
But through our bond, I felt what he wouldn't say out loud:
He was terrified. Not for himself—for me.
Because in three days, my father would arrive with five thousand soldiers, a curse fragment, and some way to control Kael. And now, before those three days were up, we had to survive an army of the dead.
While I was powerless to stop them.
"How many corpses?" I asked the messenger.
He swallowed hard. "At least five hundred. And they're carrying weapons. Real weapons."
"Five hundred armed corpses." Iskra drew her sword. "And they'll be here within the hour."
I looked at Kael, at Iskra, at all the people I'd just saved—exhausted, frightened, barely armed civilians who'd already lost everything.
"Then we have one hour to prepare," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. "Iskra, organize the fighters. Ryn, get the children and elderly to the safest location. Kael—"
"I'm staying with you," he said firmly.
"You're still recovering from dying."
"And you're exhausted from saving two hundred people." He took my hand. "We protect each other. That's how this works."
Through our bond, I felt his determination. His love. His absolute refusal to let me face this alone.
"Fine," I said. "Together."
"Always together," he agreed.
As the sun set and darkness fell, I saw them in the distance—a mass of shambling figures, lit by torches they carried like a sea of dying stars.
Five hundred corpses. Marching toward us.
And at the front of the army, I recognized a face that made my heart stop.
Even from this distance, even though he should have been buried months ago, I knew him.
Marcus. My first betrayer. The man who'd pretended to love me.
He was leading the army of the dead.
And somehow, I knew he was coming specifically for me.