Kaelen's POV
This isn't possible.
I stare at the girl Elara as my shadows curl around her like pets seeking affection. They've never done that. Not in five hundred years.
They destroy. They consume. They kill.
They don't protect.
What are you? The words come out harsher than I intend, but fear makes my voice sharp.
Elara looks at her arms where silver light glimmers beneath her skin. She's shaking, eyes wide with confusion and terror.
Good. She should be terrified. I'm terrified, and I've seen things that would drive normal people insane.
I don't know! Her voice cracks. I'm nobody! Just a healer's daughter from Lummis!
Healers' daughters don't survive my curse. I force myself to think clearly, though my mind is racing. They don't make my shadows disobey. They don't I stop, looking at my own hands.
The curse marks are moving faster than I've seen in decades. Writhing under my skin like they're excited. Or hungry.
But for the first time in centuries, they don't hurt.
Elara's POV
The Dark King looks lost. Confused. Almost... human.
I don't trust it.
Your shadows aren't hurting me, I say, trying to understand what's happening. Why?
I don't know. He runs a hand through his dark hair, frustration clear on his face. They should be killing you right now. The curse should be draining your life. But you're He stops, studying me with those unsettling silver eyes. You're getting stronger. I can feel it.
He's right. The power humming under my skin grows with each passing second. It doesn't feel bad. It feels... natural. Like something that was always inside me, just waiting to wake up.
Maybe your curse doesn't work on me, I suggest.
My curse works on everyone. His voice turns cold and bitter. It's worked for five hundred years. It killed my entire kingdom. My family. Everyone I ever loved. It's killed twelve tributes your kingdom sent before you. Three days that's how long they lasted before the curse drained them completely.
Twelve? Horror washes through me. Twelve people died here?
Twelve that your kingdom sent. Hundreds more over the centuries. Kaelen's face is like stone, but his eyes hold ancient pain. Other kingdoms send tributes too, thinking it will earn mercy or favor. It doesn't. They just die.
Then why accept them?
I don't! The words explode from him. They're thrown through the veil like garbage. I try to save them give them food, shelter, keep my distance. It doesn't matter. The curse is absolute. Anyone near me dies.
He sounds so tired. So defeated.
But I'm not dying, I point out.
Not yet. He takes a careful step toward me, watching like I might explode again. But you will. They all do.
Kaelen's POV
I need to understand what makes her different.
I circle Elara slowly, keeping my distance. She stands her ground, chin lifted in defiance despite the fear I smell on her.
She's brave. I'll give her that.
Most tributes are crying by now. Begging. Promising anything if I'll just spare them.
This girl looks ready to fight me.
How long have you had magic? I ask.
I don't have magic. I'm human.
Humans don't glow. Humans don't stop my shadows. I stop in front of her, close enough to see the pulse jumping in her throat. What's your bloodline? Your family history?
My mother was a healer. My father was a scholar. Her jaw tightens. Both dead now, thanks to the plague and the people who let it spread.
There's rage in her voice. Deep, burning rage that matches my own.
A healer, I murmur, thinking. What kind of healing? Herbs? Surgery?
Both. And... Other things. Elara hesitates. Sometimes she could heal with just her hands. Touch someone and their fever would break, or a wound would close faster than it should.
Magic healing. Of course. Your mother had light magic.
That's impossible. We're not magical. We're just
Normal? I laugh, but there's no humor in it. Girl, you just survived direct contact with a curse that's killed thousands. You're many things, but normal isn't one of them.
Elara's POV
My mind spins. Mother had magic? Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't Father mention it?
Unless they didn't know either.
Even if my mother had magic, I say slowly, that doesn't explain why your curse didn't kill me.
No, it doesn't. Kaelen moves closer, and I force myself not to step back. But I'm going to find out why. Nyx!
The shadow wolf materializes beside him, huge and terrifying.
Take her to the east tower, Kaelen orders. Lock her in where she'll be safe from the worst of the curse's effects.
Wait you're locking me up? Anger flares hot in my chest. I'm not a prisoner!
Yes, you are. His voice is flat, final. You're a prisoner of circumstance. Until I understand what you are and why you survived, you stay away from me. For your own protection.
I don't want your protection! I'm shouting now, all the fear and rage from the last six months pouring out. I want answers! I want to go home! I want
I stop, because I realize I don't have a home anymore.
Mother is dead. Father is dead. My sister betrayed me. My kingdom sentenced me to death.
There's nothing to go back to.
The realization must show on my face because Kaelen's expression softens slightly.
I know what it's like to lose everything, he says quietly. To have nowhere to go. No one to trust. He gestures to Nyx. The tower room is comfortable. You'll have food, books, warmth. It's more than most tributes get.
Because they're dead in three days.
Yes.
At least he's honest.
Nyx approaches me carefully. Up close, the shadow wolf is even more massive. Its eyes glow with intelligence that's almost human.
Follow, it says in a deep, rumbling voice that definitely doesn't come from a normal animal.
I jump. It talks?
He talks, Kaelen corrects. Nyx is a shadow familiar, not a pet. He's been with me since the curse began. He'll keep you safe.
Safe from what?
From me. Kaelen's face is hard again, walls back up. Now go. Before I change my mind and throw you back through the veil.
Kaelen's POV
I watch Elara follow Nyx toward the tower, my mind churning.
She survived direct contact. The curse marks reacted to her instead of killing her. My shadows protect her instead of consuming her.
This has never happened before.
Never.
Either she's the key to breaking my curse...
Or she's something far more dangerous.
I return to my throne and sink into it, exhausted. Five hundred years of this cursed existence, and I thought I'd seen everything.
I was wrong.
A whisper echoes through the throne room the voice of the goddess who cursed me, speaking from whatever divine realm she inhabits.
The last light-blood has arrived. Your fate is sealed, Dark King. Choose wisely redemption or destruction.
I freeze.
Light-blood. The ancient term for the priestesses who created my curse in the first place.
Their bloodline was supposed to be extinct. I made sure of it myself, hunting down every last descendant over the centuries.
Apparently, I missed one.
Elara's POV
Nyx leads me through winding corridors and up spiral stairs. The citadel is like a maze, all black glass and silver light.
Finally, we reach a heavy door. It swings open to reveal a tower room.
It's actually... nice. A large bed with soft blankets. A fireplace with actual fire crackling. Bookshelves full of leather-bound books. Windows showing the strange purple twilight sky.
You will stay here, Nyx says. Do not leave. Do not approach the Dark King. For your own safety.
And if I try to leave?
The shadow wolf's eyes glow brighter. I will stop you.
He exits, and I hear the lock click.
I'm trapped.
I sink onto the bed, my whole body shaking now that I'm alone. Everything that just happened crashes down on me.
I survived the Dark King's curse. I have some kind of power I didn't know about. My mother had magic.
Nothing makes sense.
I'm about to cry when I notice something on the bedside table.
A note, written in elegant script.
My hands shake as I pick it up and read:
Elara if you're reading this, you survived the first contact. That means you're the one the prophecy spoke of. The last light-blood. The Dark King doesn't know what you truly are yet. Neither do you. But I do. And I can help you understand. When the moon rises, look to the eastern window. We need to talk before it's too late. A Friend
I rush to the eastern window and look out.
In the distance, barely visible through the mist, I see a figure standing on a balcony.
Watching me.
Waiting.