Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
We stepped out of the king’s chamber in silence, the tension of what had just happened still clinging to our skin like smoke. The door clicked softly behind us, sealing King Emlem in that quiet room full of fading incense and the echo of magic.
Zander looked like he’d been hollowed out—his shoulders sagged, his steps slow, each breath a small battle. He didn’t speak, but I could feel the toll. His magic was flickering low, like embers trying to stay lit after the storm.
I turned to Remy. “I’m going to take Zander to his room,” I said gently. “He’s exhausted. He needs to sleep.”
Remy opened his mouth, probably to make some sarcastic remark, but then stopped. He looked at Zander, really looked, and even he couldn’t miss how the prince’s hands trembled, how his eyes had lost their sharpness.
“Fine,” Remy muttered. “I’ll tell your squad you’ll be back soon.”
“Thank you,” I said, and Remy nodded, already turning toward the Ascension Grounds.
Zander didn’t protest as I slipped my arm around his waist and guided him through the halls. His weight leaned into me just enough to show he needed the support, though he’d never ask for it.
When we reached his room, I helped him to the bed, where he sat with a quiet groan. He looked more like a man who had held the sky too long and was finally allowed to set it down.
“You’re not going to sleep in your boots, are you?” I said softly, kneeling to undo the clasps.
He didn’t argue.
I pulled them off gently and set them aside, then eased him back against the pillows. The moment his head hit them, he exhaled like he hadn’t breathed in hours.
I stood, about to leave. To give him space and darkness and the rest he so badly needed.
But then his hand reached out and caught mine.
“Stay with me,” he whispered, his voice raw. “Just until I fall asleep.”
My breath caught.
I didn’t answer in words.
I slipped off my boots, slid beneath the covers beside him, and let his arm curl around me.
And in the quiet that followed, I listened to his breathing slow, steady.
I stayed.
Zander’s warmth seeped into me like the gentlest kind of magic, no sparks, no fire, just steady presence and the thrum of his heartbeat beside mine. His arm rested against my waist, anchoring me. Calming me. My eyes fluttered shut, and the ache of the day ebbed slowly into silence.
Then—
The world shifted.
I was standing in a place that didn’t exist in waking life, an endless glade bathed in silver light, the sky above dark and starless, the air thick with memory. Flowers bloomed at my feet, blood-red and moon-white, swaying without wind.
Before me stood a woman I had never seen. And yet, I knew her.
Her hair was as silver as snowlight, falling in loose waves to her waist. Her eyes… gods, her eyes were mine. Only older, wiser, deep with grief and centuries of knowing. She was fae, regal and radiant, dressed in a gown that shimmered like water over glass.
“My name is Eliran,” she said softly, with a voice like wind through branches.
My breath caught. “You’re my grandmother.”
She nodded once. “You feel it, don’t you? In your blood. You carry more than magic. You carry memory.”
I carried sadness and shame. And I couldn’t ignore either here. How I had wanted to learn where I came from only to find I was related to the most monstrous man of all. Eliran’s husband.
But as I stood staring at her, there was no denying her beauty or her purity. Her face was as stoic as it was stunning.
Tears stung my eyes as I stepped forward. “Am I destined to be evil? Because my grandfather turned against his people—against his family?”
Her expression darkened. “No. Do not make the mistake of tying your worth to his.”
“What happened to you?” I whispered.
She inhaled, and the dreamscape pulsed with her sorrow.
“I loved him. Veralin. I trusted him, even when the others said he reached too far into forbidden power. When I realized what he wanted, it was too late. He killed me. To take my gift—my ability to walk the dream realm. To influence it. He severed me from my body and stole my voice.”
My hands trembled. “And your daughter?”
“She defied him. Refused to let him use her the way he used me. So he imprisoned her, bound in crystal, in shadow—hidden from the world for centuries.” Her eyes burned now. “Until Loretha escaped.”
I gasped. “My mother. I’m so sorry… How did she die?”
But the woman’s expression didn’t change.
“She does not walk among the dead.”
I froze. “She’s… alive?”
“I cannot confirm that,” she said gently. “Sometimes, it takes many of your years to pass between realms. We know she lived when you were born, because you exist.”
Tears stung behind my eyes. “Then how are you speaking to me now?”
Her smile was faint. “That was my gift in life. To walk the dreams of others. To speak truths in sleep.”
“And Veralin… stole that power when he killed you?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “But I clung to a sliver. One thread. I can only come to you this once.”
My breath caught. “To warn me?”
She stepped forward, placing her hand lightly over my heart. “Yes.”
“Warn me about what?”
Her voice was a wind, rising with power that made the dream tremble.
“To destroy the throne…” she said, her eyes burning into mine, “you must break the crown.”
And then—
She vanished.
Then, I stood alone on the Ascension Grounds, the morning sky just beginning to stain with light, the stone beneath my boots still cool with the last breath of night. The wind stirred gently, carrying the scent of ash, morning dew, and something older—expectation.
Kaelith’s massive form broke through the clouds, her wings stretching wide as she descended with slow, deliberate grace.
Her violet scales shimmered in the rising light, but there was a weight to her landing—a silence deeper than usual.
She touched down with barely a sound, and her golden eyes found mine immediately.
“I just had the strangest dream,” I said, stepping toward her. “It was about my grandmother. She—”
But Kaelith didn’t respond.
She didn’t growl. Didn’t snort. Didn’t speak with her usual sharp-edged commentary.
Instead, her head tilted slightly, and a deep hum vibrated through the surrounding air. A presence.
She spoke. But it wasn’t her voice.
It was hers. My grandmother’s. The voice from my dream.
Time flows like a broken river… and you stand where it narrows.
My heart seized. “Kaelith?” I whispered.
Her body began to shimmer.
Her tail, once sleek and deadly, split again—not just in two this time, but three, each tip jagged and glowing, like living blades.
Then her head rippled.
A second muzzle emerged alongside the first—seamless, spectral, as if woven from the same magic that echoed in her bones. It did not roar. It spoke. A mirror, a shadow, a doppel.
Kaelith had become something more—something ancient.
The voice that flowed from her was soft and terrible, like memory made flesh.
The final fae war draws near.
I took a step back, my pulse thundering.
“What war?” I breathed.
The Storm-born Prophecy, the twin-headed Kaelith said. It has begun to unravel. The flames have already touched the edges of fate, but they hunger for the center.
“I don’t understand—”
You must unite them. The voice surrounded me now, as if the entire field were whispering through Kaelith’s mouths. The dragons. The lost. Those who remember. The ones who fled. They must come home.
My heart pounded harder. “How do I find them?”
You don’t. Her golden eyes narrowed. You call them. With fire and fury. With truth and power. The blood in your veins is the key. The dragons were never meant to be divided. They were meant to be led.
“Led by me?”
Kaelith’s dual heads bowed low.
Flame-born… Storm-born… the names do not matter. The bond you carry will decide the future.
And then, as quickly as it came, the shimmer vanished.
The second head dissolved into air.
Her tail returned to its resting form.
Kaelith stood before me once more.
Silent.
Watching.
And I realized—with a bone-deep certainty—
This was more than a dream.
I woke up gasping in Zander’s arms, the taste of prophecy still lingering on my tongue.
I sat up and grabbed my boots from the floor.
I sat on the edge of Zander’s bed, tying the laces with my gaze drifting to where he still lay beneath the covers. His dark lashes rested against pale skin, his features relaxed in sleep, so different from the sharp edges he wore during the day. Vulnerable. Human.
He looked young like this. Like a boy born into too much legacy, too much war.
I’d only meant to rest beside him until he drifted off—but I must’ve fallen asleep too. An hour, no more. My squad would be wondering where I was.
I stood, finished lacing my boots, and brushed a hand along his blanket, just enough to straighten it without waking him. Then I slipped from the room.
The castle halls were quiet, clouds stretching across the sky as I made my way toward the Ascension Grounds. Kaelith wasn’t far—I could feel her, awake and calm—but the moment I stepped outside, I spotted Naia, Jax, and Ferrula standing in a loose circle, arms crossed and expressions guarded.
They turned as I approached.
“Are you okay?” Naia asked immediately, her blue eyes scanning me for signs of blood, exhaustion, or worse.
“Yeah,” I said, tugging my jacket closed. “I just waited for Zander to fall asleep.”
Naia smirked, one brow arching. “I bet you did.”
I gave her a flat look. “Whatever.”
Behind her, Ferrula nudged Jax with her elbow, eyes glittering with mischief. “Spar with me.”
Jax stretched his arms lazily over his head and grinned. “Only if I’m allowed to lose.”
Ferrula rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward.
And just like that, the evening felt a little less heavy.
Even if the world was still on fire.