The Shape of an Enemy
Enemies were easier when they wore their hatred openly.
Lumi learned that lesson the hard way.
The attack did not come from the council chamber, nor from the priests who still whispered prayers for her suffering. It came quietly—in softened voices, in bowed heads, in hands that trembled just enough to look sincere.
It came from someone she trusted.
The warning arrived as a headache sharp enough to steal her breath.
Lumi gripped the balcony rail outside her chambers, knuckles whitening as truth surged violently behind her eyes. The city below blurred, shadows stretching unnaturally long.
Someone close lies with purpose.
Pain spiked.
At twenty-two, Lumi knew the difference between fear and intent. This was not panic. This was planning.
She forced herself to breathe.
Behind her, soft footsteps approached.
"Lumi?" came a familiar voice. "You missed the council briefing."
Seren.
Blake's most trusted adjutant. Shadow-marked, sworn to the crown since boyhood. He had stood beside Blake through blood and fire.
The truth screamed.
Lumi turned slowly, her expression neutral despite the ache pulsing through her skull. "I wasn't feeling well."
A lie flickered faintly beneath Seren's concern—thin, practiced.
He is afraid. And he has already chosen.
Seren inclined his head. "The prince sent me to escort you. There are… movements in the lower districts."
The pain sharpened.
This is a diversion.
Lumi straightened. "Then Blake should hear it directly."
Seren hesitated.
Just a fraction too long.
That was all the proof she needed.
"I'll walk with you," she said calmly.
They moved through the corridors together, shadows whispering uneasily along the walls. Lumi felt the realm pressing again, eager—almost hungry—for the fracture forming between loyalty and truth.
Halfway down the eastern hall, Seren spoke quietly. "You don't belong here."
The truth surged hard.
"That's a lie," Lumi replied, pain flaring bright and hot. "You don't believe that."
Seren stopped walking.
"You're changing him," he said, voice low and strained. "The night hesitates because of you. The council is afraid—and so am I."
Lumi turned to face him fully. "Afraid of losing power?"
Seren's jaw tightened. "Afraid of losing Noctyrrh."
The truth struck cruelly.
He believes sacrifice is necessary.
"You think I should suffer so the realm can stay comfortable," Lumi said softly.
Seren's silence confirmed it.
Behind them, shadows deepened.
"This isn't your choice," Lumi said. "And it won't save you."
Seren's hand moved—fast—toward the dagger at his belt.
The pain exploded.
Before Lumi could react, the shadows lunged—not at her, but at him. They wrapped around his wrist, halting the motion inches from steel.
Blake's voice cut through the corridor like drawn metal.
"Step away from her."
Blake stood at the far end of the hall, the Dreadsword in hand, shadows bending eagerly toward him. His expression was carved from something far colder than anger.
Seren dropped to his knees.
"I did this for Noctyrrh," he said hoarsely.
Blake advanced slowly. "You did this because fear is easier than change."
Lumi's head throbbed violently, blood warm at her lip. "He's not the only one," she whispered. "The council is using loyalists. People who believe they're protecting the realm."
Blake closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, something had hardened irrevocably.
"Take him to the holding cells," Blake ordered the guards who had arrived silently. "He will answer for this—but not today."
As Seren was dragged away, he looked back at Lumi, eyes full of regret.
"I hope you're worth it," he said.
The truth burned—but did not deny it.
When they were alone, Lumi swayed. Blake caught her instantly, holding her as the pain finally overwhelmed her defenses.
"They're shaping the enemy," she whispered against his shoulder. "Not soldiers. Believers."
Blake held her tighter. "Then we must be careful who we trust."
She lifted her head to meet his gaze. "Including each other?"
For the first time, Blake did not answer immediately.
The silence between them was heavy with everything they had not yet said.
Somewhere deep within Noctyrrh, the night shifted—recognizing the truth at last:
The greatest threat to any cursed realm is not rebellion.
It is love that refuses to be broken.