Chapter Forty-Eight
Reign
Crossing the Vesper Gate was like falling through the bones of a dying star.
Time folded in on itself, light collapsed into shadow, and every breath was a war against the weight of power pressing in on all sides.
My fingers tightened around Aelia’s hand.
The bridge beneath our feet, obsidian, jagged, and laced with threads of starlight, stretched across a void where the sky bled violet and silver.
Phantom flew just above us with Solanthus at her side, wings tucked close, their massive forms navigating the narrow path with eerie precision.
Around us, our forces moved in hushed silence, too awed—or too terrified—to speak.
And maybe both were warranted.
Because with every step deeper into this rift, the shadows in my blood stirred. Responded. The closer we drew to the end of the bridge, the more the truth clawed its way to the surface.
I wasn’t just Shadow Fae anymore. Not just some bastard prince raised in secret. I wasn’t even the brutal weapon I was made to be, the cursed son of Tenebris.
I was Night. Not by title, but by blood. By legacy. A royal, nonetheless.
The moment my blood had opened the gate, and the Vesper threads had wrapped around me like anointing chains, I’d felt it. The call of Zaroth. The echo of a kingdom buried deep in my bones. Karnax’s throne might’ve been lost to time, but his blood still flowed in my veins.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
I owned it.
And if I had to burn every last remnant of the Night Court to keep Aelia and Aetheria safe, I’d still do it gladly. I would not run from the darkness inside me. Nor would I allow it to be a hindrance.
I would wield it.
The end of the bridge drew closer, the void fading into mist-slick stone. A massive, curved wall jutted from the mountainside like a scar carved deep into the land. Crimson torches of hellfire lit ancient battlements and smoke curled from vents chiseled into black iron towers.
Helspire Keep. The seat of the Night King.
My grandfather’s throne turned tomb. My mother’s first home. Aelia’s prison.
A flicker of movement caught my eye, then another.
Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands.
As the mist cleared, a dark sea of Demon warriors came into view, their armor forged of molten obsidian and shadowed bone, each helm crowned with jagged nightsteel. Their eyes burned like coals in the gloom, fixed on us with unflinching menace.
Banners flapped above them, red and black, adorned with a twisted sigil of a bleeding crescent moon. The Court of Infernal Night.
A trap.
“Fuck,” Ruhl gritted out from just behind me.
My stomach twisted as realization struck: The Night Fae had known we were coming. They hadn’t just been prepared. They’d planned for this.
I reached for the Compass at my side. It still pulsed, but the tug was faint now, blurred. Muddled. Like something had warped its signal. Had Helroth corrupted it somehow? Had he twisted fate itself to lure us here?
Reign? Aelia’s voice came through the bond, tight and wary. This is not good.
I didn’t answer right away. My gaze swept the ridgeline, the towering walls of the Keep, the sharpened spears of zar ready to skewer us all.
Someone had tipped them off. And only one person had known about everything, the day, the time, the Compass…
Liora.
The understanding hit like a blade to the gut. I’d not only defended her, I’d trusted her. Not just with information, but with our lives. Our mission. Aelia’s safety. Gods, how could I have been so stupid?
What Heaton said, it was all true. She was Night Fae. And worse, she was loyal to Helroth.
My shadows surged, wild and violent, wreathing my arms in darkness as I scanned our small troop for her pale blonde hair, already knowing what I’d find. She was gone. So much for Ruhl keeping an eye on her. Phantom hissed low, sensing my rising rage.
“She betrayed us,” I whispered to Aelia who stood at my side, the words bitter in my mouth. “Liora.”
Aelia didn’t speak, she didn’t need to. Instead, she only dipped her head, eyes following mine. Then a gasp from Rue, followed by another sharp curse from Ruhl as realization set in across our forces.
Kaelith moved forward, his expression twisted with fury.
“We should’ve known,” Ruhl muttered.
“No,” I growled. “I should’ve known. She was my acquisition. I should’ve listened.”
Across the battlefield, a figure stepped out from the gate of the Keep, his armor like living night, his cloak of lost souls trailing tendrils of smoke. His face was sculpted in cruel perfection, silver hair bound back from eyes of gleaming red.
Helroth. King of Infernal Night.
He shifted, his cloak snapping in the icy wind, baring the jagged stump of his arm. Hope surged hot and fierce through my veins. The great king wasn’t untouchable. He wasn’t immortal. He bled just like the rest of us.
“Have you come home, princess?” His hard gaze landed on my cuoré, then darted toward me for only an instant before settling on her once again.
She was his ultimate prize, the child of twilight. Aelia was all he ever wanted, and I would ensure she would never be his.
The wind howled between us as he raised his remaining hand, and the sea of warriors behind him stepped forward in perfect unison. Shadow beasts writhed in the air, maws open and brimming with crimson hellfire. It was an army forged in night, bred for destruction.
Beside me, Aelia drew her daggers, the light-shadow crystal at the hilt glowing like a star on the edge of collapse, drawing my eye. And it was only then it hit me. The Moirai Shard. The crystal… That was why it had seemed so familiar. A piece of it resided inside Aelia’s daggers.
That was why no one had recognized the mysterious gem.
“Aelia, your daggers!” Cloaking us in impenetrable shadows, I grabbed one and turned it upside down, pointing at the crystal. Within the hard casing was the same prism of woven starlight and silver threads I’d retrieved from the Lupherium. “Part of the Shard, it’s inside the hilt.”
She stared at it wide-eyed. “How… how did it end up in there? And what does it mean?”
“I don’t know.” I stared at the shimmering crystal, brows furrowing. “But I hope to find out.” Later. Now was not the time to ponder these new revelations.
Helroth was waiting, and he wanted blood.
He wasn’t the only one.
Before I moved, Aelia’s shoulder brushed my own as she took a step forward, reclaiming her dagger. “I have to stop this. I have to try to reason with him.”
“No,” I hissed.
“Reign, it’s the only way.” Her silver-blue eyes scanned the mass of darkness. We were a mere handful against an entire army. It would be a massacre.
“It’s too dangerous.” I spun at her, eyes wild, shadows writhing down my arms. “I will not lose you.”
Her hand found my chest, pressing against the cuorem. “You won’t. But if there’s even the smallest chance I can stop this without bloodshed, without sacrificing you, or Aidan, or anyone else I care for, I must take it.”
A low growl built in my throat. Phantom stirred above me, her wings battering the air, and I felt the tension bleed through the bond. This was madness. Helroth didn’t negotiate. He destroyed. Manipulated. Consumed.
“You’re not going alone,” I growled.
“I love you, but I am not yours to keep, Prince Reign of Umbra.” With those final words, her ethereal wings unfolded, illuminating the darkness and she shot into the night sky, my shadows dispersing in her wake.
No.
“King Helroth,” her voice crackled through the tense air. “I ask for a word in private, as your granddaughter and heir to the Night Throne.”
A wave of gasps rippled across the battlefield, echoing from both sides of the divide.
A wicked grin twisted Helroth’s lips. Then a hush fell as the Night King’s voice cut through the mist like a blade. “She may approach,” he called out. “But only her.”
Every muscle in my body locked.
No. Fucking. Way.
“No,” I snapped again, louder this time. “That wasn’t the deal, A—”
“There was no deal with my granddaughter,” Helroth said, his tone cold and amused. “She has a mind of her own. She wishes to speak? Then she will come to me. Alone.”
Aelia’s eyes met mine, a reassuring smile on her lips. Reign. Please. I need you to trust me. Her voice seared across my mind.
“I do trust you.” My voice cracked. I hadn’t meant to speak the words out loud, but I continued anyway. “It’s him I don’t trust.” My shadows surged into the sky, curling around her wrist, unwilling to let go.
Her gaze softened. “Then trust that I’m strong enough to face him. That I won’t break.”
“You’re my heart,” I whispered through my shadows, barely audible, so that only she could hear. “Don’t make me watch it walk to its death.”
She slowly shook her head, expression grim but resolute. The cuorem flared bright and steady between us. “I’ll come back to you. Always.”
And before I could stop her, before I could do something desperate, she turned, wings flaring with brilliant light twisted in shadow, and crossed the line between Light and Night.