The dungeon beneath Thorne was carved from stone older than the kingdom itself.
Kael descended the steps slowly, torch in hand, the flame casting jagged shadows across the walls. Behind him, two guards dragged Councilor Merin in chains.
Merin didn't speak.
He didn't beg.
But Kael saw the flicker in his eyes—the calculation, the pride, the belief that he still held leverage.
He would break that belief.
---
They reached the interrogation chamber.
Kael dismissed the guards.
He wanted no audience.
Only truth.
Merin was chained to the iron chair.
Kael stood before him, silent.
Then spoke.
"You betrayed your crown."
Merin smiled. "I served the realm."
Kael's voice was ice. "You served a ghost."
Merin leaned forward. "Seraphina was born for the throne."
Kael didn't blink. "She abandoned it."
Merin shrugged. "She's returning."
Kael stepped closer. "And you'll tell me how."
Merin said nothing.
Kael drew his dagger.
Placed it on the table.
Then removed his cloak.
And rolled up his sleeves.
---
The hours that followed were not kind.
Kael didn't scream.
Didn't rage.
He asked questions.
Precise.
Cold.
And when Merin refused to answer, Kael used the blade—not to kill, but to carve away the lies.
By the third hour, Merin was bleeding.
By the fourth, he was talking.
---
"She has allies," Merin gasped. "In Elarion. In the outer provinces. She's building a court."
Kael's voice was low. "Where?"
Merin trembled. "A fortress. Hidden in the cliffs. They call it the Inkspire."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Who leads it?"
Merin swallowed. "Dorian. And someone else. A woman. I never saw her face."
Kael leaned in. "What's the plan?"
Merin coughed. "They want Queen Lyria gone. Not dead. Disgraced."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Why?"
Merin smiled through blood. "Because she's loved."
---
Kael stood.
Merin slumped.
The king called for the guards outside,and turned to them when their had arrived.
"Leave him here."
They nodded.
Kael walked out.
And didn't look back.
---
Elara met him in the war chamber.
She saw the blood on his hands.
Didn't flinch.
"Did he talk?" she asked.
Kael nodded. "Enough."
Elara stepped closer. "And?"
Kael's voice was steel. "They're building a kingdom. One meant to replace ours."
Elara's breath caught. "Then we burn it."
Kael looked at her.
And saw the fire.
---
That night, they stood on the balcony.
The stars above were sharp.
The wind carried whispers.
Kael took Elara's hand.
"I won't let them touch you," he said.
She leaned into him. "They already have."
He kissed her.
And this time, it felt like war.
---
In the cliffs of the outer provinces, Seraphina stood before the Inkspire.
Dorian joined her.
A courier arrived.
Delivered a scroll.
She read it.
Smiled.
> "Merin broke. But not enough."
She turned to Dorian.
"Then we move faster."
---
---
The cliffs of the outer provinces were jagged and cruel, carved by wind and time into spires that pierced the sky. At their heart stood the Inkspire—black stone, high walls, and banners that bore no crest. Only a serpent, coiled and watching.
Inside, Seraphina stood at the highest tower, her gloved hands resting on the cold stone.
Dorian approached from behind.
"They've begun to move," he said.
She didn't turn. "Let them."
---
In Thorne, the war chamber was alive with tension.
Kael stood at the head of the table, the Sovereign Assembly gathered before him. Maps were spread, markers placed, scouts' reports pinned with iron nails.
"The Inkspire is real," Kael said. "And it is not a fortress of defense. It is a blade pointed at our throat."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber.
Lucien stepped forward. "We've begun mobilizing the eastern garrisons. The river routes are being watched."
Kael nodded. "Good. But we need more than soldiers. We need loyalty."
He turned to the Assembly.
"Anyone who has spoken with Elarion in the last six months will be questioned. Anyone who hesitates will be removed."
Councilor Varric stood. "You're asking for blind obedience."
Kael's voice was steel. "I'm demanding survival."
---
Elara moved through the palace like a shadow.
She no longer trusted the walls.
She no longer trusted the silence.
She met with scribes, with servants, with spies. She read every intercepted message, every coded phrase. And still, the last traitor remained hidden.
Until she found it.
A ledger.
Tucked behind a false panel in the library.
It bore the mark of the serpent.
And a name.
One she had once trusted.
---
That night, Kael returned to their chambers, his armor still on, his eyes dark with exhaustion.
Elara stood by the fire.
"We need to talk," she said.
Kael removed his gauntlets. "About what?"
"You're pushing too hard."
He looked at her. "I'm doing what must be done."
"At what cost?"
Kael stepped closer. "Would you rather I wait? Let them strike first?"
"I'd rather not lose you to this war before it even begins."
He paused.
Then softened.
"Lyria…"
She touched his chest. "I know what's coming. I know what it means. But I need you to remember who you are. Not just a king. My king."
He pulled her into his arms.
"I haven't forgotten," he whispered. "But I can't lose you either."
---
Later, when the palace had gone quiet, Elara sat alone in their chamber, while kael was still busy planning strategies in the war chamber.
She lit a single candle.
Opened the drawer beneath her writing desk.
And pulled out the journal.
The one no one knew about.
The one she had written before she ever stepped into this world.
She opened to a blank page.
And wrote:
> I wrote about war. I wrote about blood and banners and broken crowns. But I never imagined what it would feel like to live it.
>
> I changed the world when I chose Kael. I knew that. I accepted it. I thought I could control the ripple.
>
> But this… this is something else.
>
> The world is changing in ways I never wrote. Never planned. Never wanted.
>
> And for the first time, I'm afraid.
>
> Not of dying.
>
> But of what happens if I survive.
She closed the journal.
Blew out the candle.
And stared into the dark.
---