Chapter 32
?──── Koen ? ────?
This time, I dream of a cave half-shrouded in mist. The lake laps at its edges, silver beneath a sky that holds no stars. Shadows press close, but the place doesn’t frighten me. If anything, it feels safe. Familiar.
I take a step closer, my hand stretching toward the entrance. But before I can cross the threshold, I wake.
My muscles are stiff, my heart hammering in my ears. I sit up in my bed, letting the sheets fall to my waist. The ache doesn’t leave. It shouldn’t even exist. Dreams are supposed to fade, not leave bruises. Yet, these have. Every night.
It’s been a month since the second trial. A month since I last saw her. A month of confusing dreams. Of training. Of her occupying every corner of my mind without my permission.
I drag a hand down my face. Why do the dreams have to feel so real? Like something I should have lived. Something I’ve lost. I feel like I’m losing my mind.
I push the thoughts away, frustration driving me from bed. Even though I’m not meeting Torin today, I wrap my cloak around my shoulders, slide my boots on, and grab my sword. Training will settle me. Hopefully.
The training yard is pale in the morning light.
Dew clings to the stone beneath my boots.
I take a deep breath, letting the cold air burn my lungs.
Step, strike, pivot, parry. Muscle and will flow together in a rhythm I know by heart now.
Sweat gathers along my brow and spine. The strain tethers me to the present, keeps the weight in my chest from consuming me entirely.
I switch to magic. Golden lines flare across my arms as sunlight blooms in my palm—warm, sharp, and unrelenting.
I shape it into spears and arcs that scorch the practice wall.
Each burst drives the tension further from my body, yet the longing stays, pulling at my chest with every motion, whispering her name.
I have to be strong. I have to be ready. The third trial awaits. They still haven’t told us what it is, but failure is not an option—not when everything rides on my success.
My mind drifts to Serenya. I can’t keep her from my thoughts, no matter how hard I try.
A month without her and still no news. Torin and Alira just repeat themselves like broken instruments. I tried asking. Tried begging. Resting . That's all I ever get. She could be anywhere. Even…with him. The vampire. That thought stings more than I want to admit.
I just need to see her. To know she’s well. To hear her voice, even for a moment. To know that whatever these dreams are, she exists outside of them.
I train until my arms burn, until the sun shines pale gold across the training yard. Sweat clings to my skin, my hair plastered to my temples. When I finally stop, I sheath my sword, letting the tension in my muscles dissolve slowly, one deliberate step at a time.
I don’t mean to, but my feet carry me farther than intended. Past the gardens, through the palace gates, along the winding paths. The air grows cooler, heavier with the scent of water.
I come to a stop when I see the cave.
Smaller than in my dreams, but unmistakable . Half-hidden by jagged stone, tucked at the lake’s edge, untouched by time. Breathing becomes harder with every heartbeat. My nails dig into my palms at my sides.
As I step closer, a sharp, vivid image flashes in my mind. A memory that isn’t mine. Or is it? I don’t know anymore.
Her laughter, soft and breathless. Her hand tangled in my tunic, pulling me closer. My own hand cupping her jaw, pushing her back against the cave wall. Her lips on mine, laughing against my mouth as if she can’t quite stop smiling long enough to kiss me properly.
I stumble back, knees nearly giving, heart hammering. The ghost of that kiss lingers on my lips. But I’ve never touched her like that. Never even kissed her. Never held her close in such…intimacy.
Yet, it feels as though I have. As though her laughter, her lips, the cave itself, all bear witness to something I can’t name.
Helplessness rises, bitter and thick. I crouch at the water’s edge, staring at the cave’s reflection.
Why is this happening to me?
I tear my gaze away, dragging in a breath that feels heavier than armor. Tomorrow is the ball. I’ll finally see her again. And if she isn’t there, I will go find her myself.
The rest of the day drifts by in a blur. My mind floats somewhere between exhaustion and the pull of the cave, between reality and the pull of the impossible dreams. I spend hours in the training yard again, combining my swordwork with magic, light spilling from my palms.
My thoughts circle relentlessly back to her. Each night, these moments in the dreams…they feel like real time with her, progressing a connection that isn’t mine to claim. And yet, my longing for her only grows stronger with each passing night.
There is something in the dreams, something in the way my heart pounds at the sound of her voice, that makes it impossible to deny my feelings have grown—wild and unrestrained.
I’m falling for her. Helplessly. Irrationally.
The thought of it terrifies me because she doesn’t see me as anything more than just a champion in these trials.
She said so herself. Her words from that day echo in my head, and the ache behind my ribs grows sharper and more unforgiving.
I’m in love with someone who doesn’t see me the way I see her, and it’s like I’m standing in the dark, waiting for a light that might never come.
After training alone, I go back to my chambers. Dinnertime comes, but I skip it. I’m not interested in being around others. I take a bath to soothe my muscles, warm water tracing tired lines across my skin. When I approach my bed, I hesitate once again.
Do I want to sleep tonight?
Each night brings me to her, and each night leaves me more hollow than the last. But the pull is magnetic and irresistible. I know the moment I close my eyes, I’ll be back with her, living stolen moments that feel so unbearably real.
I lie down slowly, letting the sheets settle over me. Another dream awaits. I go to it willingly.
Because she is there.