The prophecy wouldn't stop burning.
Even after the silver scroll dissolved into my skin, I still felt the words carved there like fresh wounds.
When the moon bleeds,
the daughter will rise,
and the son of the crown
will choose her death—
or her throne.
Son of the crown.
Kael.
My murderer.
My shield.
My fate.
All wrapped in one boy who didn't know he'd already failed me once.
Morning came slower than usual, dragging a thin light over the palace. I sat upright in bed, knees pulled to my chest, fingers digging into the sheets.
Sleep hadn't touched me again.
The shadows in the corners of my room shifted lazily, as if they were stretching after a good night's rest.
He was here.
"I told you," the shadow-man murmured, stepping out from the dimness near my wardrobe. "Prophecy is never kind."
I didn't startle this time.
"Is it true?" I asked. "All of it?"
"Yes."
I clenched my jaw. "Could you, just once, say something comforting?"
"I am not here to comfort you," he replied calmly. "I am here to keep you alive."
"That's debatable."
He took a slow step closer, violet eyes studying my face.
"You have a choice, Aura. You can pretend you didn't see it. Let fate drag you behind it like a dead thing. Or you can fight it."
"How?" I whispered. "If a prophecy says he'll choose my death or my throne… how do I change that?"
His lips curved in a slow, dangerous smile.
"Make sure he chooses correctly."
"That's not helpful."
"It's the only path."
I slid off the bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor.
"So, what now?" I asked. "You want me to confront him? Ask: 'Hi Kael, quick question, are you planning to murder me or crown me?'"
He almost laughed. Almost.
"No," he said. "You start with the easier prey."
"Easier than the prince?"
He tilted his head slightly. "Your sister."
Arcelia.
Of course.
The words she'd whispered behind that door came flooding back:
"I already killed her once. I can't—"
"Then we kill her again."
I dragged in a breath.
"How much do you really know?" I asked him. "About them. About us."
His gaze held mine, steady, unwavering.
"I know," he said softly, "that if you do nothing, the same story will play again."
He stepped closer still, close enough that the air between us cooled.
"Do you want that, Aura?" he asked. "Do you want to die the same way twice?"
My hands curled into fists.
"No."
"Then go," he said. "Pull at the first loose thread."
"Arcelia."
"Yes."
"And you?" I asked. "What's your name? Or do you prefer being called 'that creepy thing in the shadows' forever?"
His lips twitched.
"A name has power," he said. "You aren't ready to hold mine yet."
"Try me."
He considered me for a heartbeat.
Then said, quietly:
"Lysander."
The name seemed to thrum in the air.
"Shadow," I murmured. "Moon. Ruin. Lysander."
"Don't romanticize it," he replied. "I am not your tragic hero."
"Then stop saving my life like one."
He stepped back into the darkness, his eyes the last thing to fade.
"And stop trusting the boy who already watched you die," he murmured.
Then he was gone.
I found Arcelia in the rose courtyard.
Of course I did.
She always liked having something beautiful nearby when she was about to be cruel. Roses. Harps. Sunlight. They were props.
She sat on a stone bench under the pergola, sunlight catching the pearls braided into her hair. A maid brushed her gown clean while another poured fresh tea.
Arcelia smiled when she saw me.
"Aura," she said warmly. "You didn't come to breakfast."
"Poison ruins my appetite," I replied.
The faintest flinch.
"Poison?" she echoed lightly. "What a horrible word for so early in the morning."
The maids glanced at each other nervously.
"Leave us," Arcelia said, still smiling.
They scurried away.
The moment they turned the corner, her smile tightened.
"You're making people nervous," she said softly. "Father. The council. Kael."
"Good," I said. "I'm nervous too."
She sighed, tilting her head.
"What do you want, Aura?"
"Telling," I said. "You assume I want something."
"You always want something."
"I want to know who was in that room with you," I said. "When you said you'd already killed me once."
Her eyes widened.
Just a flash.
Then gone.
"What nonsense are you talking about?" she asked, laughing. "You're speaking in riddles."
"Should I," I said thoughtfully, "repeat them for Father? Or maybe Kael? I'm sure they'd love to hear you say, 'I already killed her once, I can't do it again.'"
Arcelia went very still.
The roses around us shifted in a light breeze, petals brushing against each other like gossiping mouths.
"You're lying," she whispered.
"You're shaking," I countered.
Her hands were trembling where they rested in her lap.
"You're imagining things," she hissed. "You were always so dramatic. If you keep talking like this, they'll think you're losing your mind."
"That's the plan," I said. "I'd rather be the crazy princess than the dead one."
Something ugly flickered in her eyes.
"You weren't supposed to hear that," she said finally.
"So you're not denying it."
"Why should I?" she snapped, then caught herself. Her tone softened again. "Aura… you know how it is. I speak in exaggerations. I didn't mean—"
"I remember the blade," I said.
She stopped breathing.
"Pressed between my ribs," I continued quietly. "Your hand shaking. Blood on your dress. You crying as if you were the victim."
Her throat worked.
"That wasn't real," she whispered. "Just a nightmare."
"It was the last thing I saw before I died."
Arcelia's mask cracked cleanly down the middle.
"You weren't supposed to remember," she whispered.
I took a step closer.
"Who helped you?" I asked. "Who taught you how to poison me? Who set the trap on the throne room doors? Who told you not to let me speak to Father?"
She swallowed.
Silence stretched.
Then she said, very softly:
"You shouldn't go to the forest alone."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you'll get," she murmured.
"Did you set the trap?" I asked. "Did you bring those creatures here?"
Her eyes flashed. "Do you think I control monsters?"
"Yes."
She laughed once, harsh. "You really don't know, do you? You think you're the only one the moon looked at twice?"
My chest tightened. "What?"
She leaned forward, eyes burning.
"You are not the only cursed one in this family, sister."
My mouth went dry.
"What did you do, Arcelia?" I whispered.
"Nothing… yet," she said. "But if you keep digging, I won't be the only one blamed when everything falls apart."
"Blamed by who?"
She smiled.
"By Kael. By Father. By the people. Does it matter? They will all choose someone to burn. And right now…"
She rose from the bench, gliding closer, her face inches from mine.
"…you're shining a little too brightly."
My magic stirred beneath my skin, reacting to the threat.
Heat sparked in my blood.
The air thickened.
Her nose wrinkled.
"There it is," she whispered. "The thing inside you. The part that doesn't belong."
"Be careful," I said quietly. "I'm not as easy to stab this time."
She smiled sweetly.
"You weren't easy last time either," she murmured. "You just trusted the wrong person."
My breath hitched.
"Who?" I asked. "You? Or him?"
Her eyes softened in a way that made me want to rip the roses from the vines.
"Both," she said simply.
Footsteps echoed at the courtyard entrance.
"Aura?" Kael's voice.
Of course.
Arcelia's expression shifted in an instant—
fearful, fragile, perfect.
"I should go," she whispered. "The sunlight is giving me a headache."
She brushed past me, smiling wide.
"Be careful who you read prophecies with, dear sister," she murmured as she passed. "Some of them only come true because we believe them."
Then she was gone.
Kael reached me moments later, breathless.
"You disappeared again," he said. "I've been looking everywhere."
I stared at him.
Son of the crown.
Death or throne.
He frowned. "Aura? What's wrong?"
Everything.
"Come with me," I said quietly. "I want to show you something."
We went to my chambers.
The shadows gathered when we entered, coiling in the corners.
Lysander didn't appear, but I felt him. Watching. Listening.
Kael stood near my window, fingers resting on the sill.
"Aura," he said, "are you ever going to tell me what he is to you?"
"Who?" I asked.
"That… thing. The shadow boy. The one who appears every time something tries to kill you."
"A safety net," I said. "For now."
"A threat," he muttered.
"You don't get to decide which one."
He turned, frustration sparking. "Aura, he's twisting you. Turning you against everyone who loves you—"
"Does that include you?" I asked.
He hesitated.
"Yes," he said finally. "It does."
The honesty hurt.
I took a slow breath.
"Then listen," I said. "And don't interrupt."
His jaw tensed. "I'll try."
"I saw a prophecy," I said. "Last night."
His posture changed instantly.
"What kind of prophecy?" he asked quietly.
"The kind that decides whether I live," I replied. "Or die."
His throat worked. "Aura…"
I repeated it.
Every word.
When I said "son of the crown," his face went bloodless.
"Me," he whispered.
"Yes."
He stared at me like the world had tilted beneath his feet.
"I would never choose your death," he said, voice raw.
"Not intentionally," I replied. "But you might choose your duty. Your kingdom. Your crown."
He flinched.
"Is that what you think of me?" he whispered. "That I'd sacrifice you for a seat?"
"In one life?" I said softly. "You already did."
The words hung between us, heavy, cold.
He stared.
"Aura… what are you saying?"
"I died," I whispered. "And I remember how you watched."
The air snapped.
Something in him shattered.
"Aura—"
My magic flared—
suddenly, violently.
Silver light burst under my skin, racing up my arms, across my throat. The windows rattled. The candles flickered.
Kael stepped back, hands raised. "Aura—calm down—"
"I won't die like that again," I whispered, voice trembling. "I won't trust blindly."
"I'm not your enemy!" he shouted.
The shadows in the corners stirred.
Lysander's voice drifted in, low and almost amused.
"Not yet," he said.
Kael stiffened. "Show yourself!"
Lysander stepped out of the darkness, unhurried.
"Prince," he said, inclining his head. "Son of the crown. Future betrayer."
Kael's eyes flashed with fury. "I'd rather die than hurt her."
Lysander smiled, slow and cold.
"Don't worry," he murmured. "You might get both."
My magic surged again, reacting to their tension, spiraling out of control.
The floor trembled.
The moonlight outside thickened—
pouring through the window like liquid silver.
Kael shielded his eyes. "Aura—what's happening?"
Lysander watched me closely.
"You're choosing too hard," he said. "You can't force the future to bend without consequences."
"What consequences?" I gasped.
He stepped closer, eyes burning.
"If you break the prophecy," he said softly, "something else will break with it."
"What?"
He held my gaze.
"You," he said.
The room exploded with silver light.
And everything went white.