Chapter 44
?──── Koen ? ────?
We enter the great hall, Serenya still on my arm. My heart won’t settle—still pounding from the words she didn’t say. From the look in her eyes. That affection , raw and real.
The marble floor gleams underfoot, light catching in every line. Pillars flank the chamber, rising into sweeping arches. Light from the chandeliers flickers softly.
At the center, the ceiling stretches higher. Part of it is glass, showing the pale morning sky. The rest is painted with murals of Phynnera walking among mortals and fae, her light glowing down on both.
At the far end, a dais rises, holding three thrones. The queen sits in the middle—regal. The king’s seat is empty, a quiet reminder of everything that weighs on this kingdom.
Guests fill the rows lining the aisle, and more stand in the back. To the right, the Araluen and Noctheron courts sit side by side. Too close. Too tense. You can feel it.
Asbel and Lioran stand below the dais on the left. I force my eyes away from them, focusing only on the path ahead.
I escort Serenya to her throne beside her mother’s, then step into the open center before the dais. Bowing low, I fix my gaze on Queen Zephyra.
She rises, and at once, the hall falls silent.
Her voice rings clear, steady, woven with power.
“We have gathered today to hold the Ceremony of the Divine, the first of its kind in centuries. The last was when King Thalon was blessed by Phynnera. Now, we stand witness as our future king is chosen to receive the same blessing.”
Her eyes meet mine, sharp and unwavering. “Koen Moriver, you may rise. No longer do you kneel before anyone.”
A hush ripples through the hall as I obey, standing tall though my chest feels tight with the enormity of it.
The queen gestures, her voice carrying through the vaulted chamber. “Let us begin.”
The priestess steps forward, her white robes brushing the marble floor. She lifts a hand, palm glowing faint blue.
Her voice spills out in an ancient language—each word strange, heavy with meaning.
Symbols flicker in the air, falling one by one. They land around my feet, glowing runes etched into the stone. When the last rune seals itself, the light in her palm fades.
“It is done,” she says, stepping aside to take her place at the queen’s right.
Queen Zephyra turns to Serenya, her expression softening. “Princess Serenya, take your place beside him. Hold his hand. You will be his anchor. What feels like only seconds to us will be minutes to him.”
Serenya rises, her movements fluid and sure despite the eyes watching her. She steps to my side and slips her hand into mine. At once, the air changes. With her here, everything feels…right. Like I’ve been holding my breath my entire life, and only now that she’s by my side, can I finally breathe.
The queen’s voice draws me back. “Koen, close your eyes, and call to the goddess with your mind.”
Serenya leans into me and whispers, “It’s not too late to back out.”
My head snaps to her, voice low. “What?”
“If you go through with this, you will no longer be human. Not only that, but you will become a king . You never chose to be here. It was all forced on you.” Her eyes search mine. “If you don’t want this, I’ll understand. Tell me now, and I’ll find a way to get you out.”
People begin to talk quietly, impatient.
I lace our fingers. “I’m not leaving, Serenya. I may not have chosen this in the beginning, but I swear to you, this is what I want.”
Serenya’s fingers tighten gently around mine. I squeeze back, steadying myself with her strength, then close my eyes.
I call out to the goddess.
The world stops. Serenya’s breath stills beside me.
Blinding, gold-white light pours from the heavens, coalescing into a figure before me.
Phynnera.
Her presence steals the air from my lungs, and my knees nearly buckle.
“My child,” she says, her voice both thunder and whisper, “you have carried my spark since the day you were born. I gave you my blessing once, and it has shaped you and guided you, even as you forgot. Now, you stand where you’re supposed to be.
You shall have the immortality of the fae back as my gift to you. And with it, your truth.”
Before I can ask, the world tilts.
Memories flood me. Mine…yet not. A blade flashing in moonlight. Serenya’s cry as I fell. A vow whispered in the dark. Her lips on mine. Her tears on my skin. The field of flowers, the cave. All the dreams I thought were only dreams. They were real.
Kallan.
I am…No…I was Kallan.
My knees crash against the marble as I gasp for air. A thousand lives colliding into one, two selves forced together until I can no longer tell where one ends and the other begins.
Phynnera lays her hand upon my brow. Her touch sears, yet steadies. “No more divided selves. You are both Koen and Kallan. You are mine…and hers.”
Then the goddess is gone.
The silence breaks.
Time surges back, and I try to stand. But agony detonates inside me. Fire tears through every nerve, searing, ripping, unmaking me. I choke and collapse forward, clutching my chest, Serenya’s hand slipping from mine.
Her scream pierces the air, echoing mine. She crumples to the floor in pain. Our magic rips free, wild and violent. My gold and her shadow twist together until they slam into one another. The palace shudders with the force.
Gasps ripple through the hall. Whispers hiss from every side. “This has never happened before. How do we stop it?”
But I can’t focus on anything beyond the storm between us.
Lines of fire etch into my skin. Where once glowing fractures of raw magic had spread, now black and gold spirals race up my arms, binding, burning, and searing me to her.
Across the chamber, Serenya sobs as the same marks blaze along her arms, as if the goddess herself carved us from the same soul.
The bond snaps into place. A tether, deep and unshakable, stretches from my soul and anchors in hers. Her fear, her pain, her fierce, unrelenting love flood into me as if they are my own.
One of my eyes sears cold. My vision fractures, then clears.
Serenya lifts her head. Her wide eyes lock on mine, her lips parting in horror and in wonder. She feels me, and I feel her.
────────────? ? ? ? ?────────────
Serenya
I stand beside Koen, his hand warm in mine. I give it the smallest squeeze, and he returns it. It’s steady and grounding, everything I didn’t know I needed. His eyes close.
He abruptly rips his hand from mine. His body bows, and he stumbles a few steps before crashing to the floor with a scream that splits me in two.
“Koen!”
I drop to my knees, reaching, but before I can touch him, searing agony slams into me. It burns in my chest like my heart is being carved out with fire. I claw at the floor, screaming with him, my voice raw. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
Shadows tear free from me, light rips from him, and together they spiral upward in a furious storm, colliding midair until the hall itself trembles. Gasps and whispers rise around us, but I can’t hear words, only the roar of our pain.
Fire erupts on my skin. Spirals of black and gold etch across my arms, branding me, burning me alive. I sob, broken, as my body writhes against the marble floor.
All of a sudden, the bond snaps.
It slams into place like a tether in my soul, anchoring me to him. His pain rages through me like it’s my own. His terror, his desperate need to protect me, and his love that’s so fierce, so consuming, it nearly drowns me, rush in until I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
My body shakes. A few feet away, Koen stares back, marked with the same spirals, and…my eyes widen. One of his eyes remains gold, but the other is now storm-gray.
We stumble to our feet, reaching for each other. Our hands stretch across the space, but instead of touching, they slam into an invisible wall. We both flinch.
A shield hums between us.
My stomach drops because I know this magic.
“Lioran?” I whisper.
He steps forward, his face cold. Gone is the boy I laughed with, sparred with, trusted. In his place stands something sharp and cruel.
“Lioran,” I choke, fury and disbelief tearing through me. “Drop the shield.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just stares at me with a bored expression.
Behind him, Asbel falls to the floor, asleep.
My blood turns to ice when I look to my mother as she slumps forward on her throne, head lolling.
“No…” My voice shreds apart. “No, no, no.”
“Release it!” I scream, slamming my fists against the shield. I try to call my shadows, but my magic doesn’t answer me. I’m burned out, drained from the bond. Still, I claw for it, begging shadows that won’t come.
Koen whirls to fight, but before he can lift a hand, Lioran shackles him with glowing cuffs. The sound of them clicking shut is the sound of my heart breaking.
“No!” My fists pound the barrier, skin splitting, blood smearing across the invisible wall.
Elowen steps inside the shield, casual, as if strolling into a garden, her long green hair flowing behind her. Following her, a guard drags Dimitri’s unconscious body, bound and collared. No. This can’t be happening.
My gaze frantically sweeps the room. My eyes land on Ravelle, slumped, also asleep. Everyone but me is asleep.
It’s a nightmare.
“Serenya!” Koen’s voice is hoarse, desperate, his fear crashing into me through the bond.
Rage consumes me. I slam my fists against the shield. Over and over. If my magic won’t answer, I will give it everything else. My flesh. My bones. My will.
“Lioran!” My voice tears raw. “Release the shield, or I swear to you—”
My voice trails off when a pixie flies into the shield after Elowen, opening a portal.
“No.”
Koen thrashes against his restraints, shouting. His voice cracks. “Serenya!”
Our bond blazes with our fear. My heart stops.
“Koen!”
I pound harder. My knuckles break, I taste iron, and my vision blurs, but I don’t care.