The shadow-step was nothing like teleportation.
It wasn't movement.
It was folding.
The world folded around us like pages turning too fast, the palace vanishing, the forest blurring, my heartbeat slipping out of rhythm—and then suddenly—
Darkness.
Cold.
Heavy.
Alive.
We stood at the cracked archway of the ruins, the air thick with whispering magic.
Kael was already inside.
I could feel him—
his heartbeat
his fear
his determination
all tangled through the stone.
"It's starting," Lysander murmured.
"What is?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Because the ground beneath us vibrated—
a slow, deep pulse
like something enormous breathing under the earth.
The Primordial.
The god that forgot how to be one.
The ruins weren't ruins.
They were ribs.
We walked inside.
Kael
He was deeper in the ruins than he realized.
The patrol had vanished behind him.
Not killed—
just… gone.
Their footprints stopped.
Their torches lay smoldering.
Silence swallowed them whole.
Kael's torch flickered wildly, reacting to the magic.
He didn't turn back.
He wouldn't.
"Aura…" he whispered again, as if calling my name could anchor him.
Then he heard it.
A voice.
Singing.
Broken.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
He followed it.
Aura
The moment I stepped inside, the temperature dropped.
My breath fogged in front of me.
My heartbeat slowed—
not with fear,
but recognition.
The walls glowed faintly with blue sigils.
The stones whispered.
The shadows swayed like they were breathing.
Lysander walked beside me silently, every muscle sharp and alert.
"It's watching," he murmured.
"What is?"
He gave me a look.
"The Primordial."
I swallowed.
"This is where I died."
"Yes."
"And where I was reborn?"
Lysander stopped.
His violet eyes met mine.
"No," he said softly.
"This is where you were stolen."
Stolen.
The word sank into me.
I opened my mouth to ask what he meant—
And then I heard it.
Kael's voice.
"AURA?!"
"Kael!" I shouted.
I ran forward—but Lysander's hand shot out, catching my wrist.
"Don't run."
"I HAVE to—"
"You'll step into its trap."
I froze.
He exhaled, tense.
"We proceed slowly. The Primordial bends space here. It can make you run in circles until your mind breaks."
I swallowed hard.
"O-Okay. Then guide me."
Lysander nodded.
We continued.
We found Kael in a circular chamber.
He stood alone, blade drawn, torch sputtering at his feet.
His eyes widened the moment he saw me.
"Aura!"
He rushed toward me—
but Lysander moved between us instantly, blocking him.
Kael skidded to a stop, face twisted in frustration.
"I'm not your enemy!" he snapped. "Let me—"
"You cannot touch her here," Lysander said. "The Primordial reacts to anything bonded to her."
"Bonded?" Kael echoed.
His eyes flicked to me.
"What bond?"
This was not the time to explain.
Before I could answer—
A voice rippled through the chamber.
Not heard.
Felt.
You came.
I stiffened.
Kael froze, looking around wildly. "Who said that?!"
Lysander's jaw clenched. "It speaks."
Moon-child.
Little door.
Little death.
The shadows thickened in the far corner.
They began to shape—
rise—
form—
Kael stepped in front of me on instinct. "Stay behind me."
Lysander's voice was ice.
"Move again, princeling," he said, "and you'll die before the god gets the chance."
Kael didn't move.
The shadows finished forming.
And Arcelia stepped out.
But it wasn't Arcelia anymore.
Her eyes glowed an unnatural white.
Her mouth moved in a slow, wrong rhythm.
Her hands twitched with puppet-like stiffness.
"Arcelia…" I whispered.
Kael's breath caught. "What… happened to her?"
Lysander answered without hesitation.
"It's inside her."
The Primordial.
The ruin-light crawled beneath her skin like worms of moonlight.
She smiled.
Not Arcelia's smile.
Something older.
Infinitely cruel.
Infinitely patient.
When she spoke, her voice layered with something deep and monstrous.
"You return to me," she crooned. "Little moon-born. Little stolen child."
My throat closed.
"Let my sister go," I said, trembling.
A slow, delighted laugh rippled through the chamber—
from Arcelia's mouth, but not from her.
Why?
This form suits me.
Soft. Weak. Devoted.
Kael lunged at her with his blade.
"KAEL—NO!" I shouted.
Too late.
Arcelia—
or the thing inside her—
lifted her hand.
And Kael flew backward.
Not pushed.
Thrown.
He slammed into the stone pillar so hard the breath burst out of him.
"KAEL!"
I ran to him, but Lysander dragged me back.
"Do NOT touch him."
"He's hurt!"
"If you touch him while the Primordial is focused on you," Lysander said sharply, "it will mark him too."
I froze.
Kael groaned, sliding to one knee. "Aura… stay back…"
Arcelia tilted her head toward me.
"You shine brighter this time," the Primordial murmured. "Your mother paid well. Her life for your breath."
My chest knotted.
"Why me?" I whispered. "Why did you want me?"
Want you?
A chorus of laughter shook the stones.
I MADE you.
I went cold.
"No," I whispered. "You didn't. I was born—"
Born of moonlight and death,
the voice hissed.
Made to open the gate.
Made to break the seal.
Made for ME.
The ground trembled.
Lysander stepped in front of me, cloak whipping violently.
"I won't let you touch her," he said quietly.
Arcelia's head snapped toward him, the god inside her snarling.
Lysander.
Traitor.
Thief.
My little shadow-boy.
Kael stared in confusion and fear.
"What are you?" he whispered.
Lysander's eyes glowed brighter—
violet burning into pure amethyst fire.
"A mistake you should never have created," he said.
Arcelia's body jerked, cracking unnaturally.
You stole the girl from me.
You ripped her soul out of my grasp.
You DARED defy a god.
"I did," he said simply.
"And I'd do it again."
Then everything exploded.
Not light.
Not sound.
Power.
Raw, impossible, ancient.
Lysander flung out his hand—
and the shadows around Arcelia recoiled like struck animals.
The Primordial roared through her mouth.
Kael struggled to his feet. "What is happening?!"
"Stay behind me!" I screamed.
"Aura—"
"PLEASE, KAEL!"
He listened.
For once.
Arcelia's body convulsed as the god pulled at her strings.
Lysander's voice thundered across the chamber:
"This soul is not yours."
She will be,
the Primordial hissed.
All moon-children return to me. Even the ones who run.
"I didn't run," I whispered. "I was murdered."
It laughed again—
a horrible, delighted sound.
And I watched.
My heart stopped.
Lysander snarled and stepped forward, shadows spiraling violently.
"YOU," he roared, "do not speak of that night!"
The ruin walls shook.
Cracks spread through the stone.
Arcelia staggered, twitching violently as two forces tried to control her.
Kael reached for his sword with shaking hands.
"Aura," he breathed, "tell me what to do."
For the first time…
I didn't have an answer.
The Primordial spoke again—
so close I felt its breath in my bones.
Little moon-child,
I offer you a choice.
The chamber stilled.
Come to me,
and I will release your sister.
My heart hammered.
Refuse…
and she dies.
Her body breaks. Her mind rots. Her soul dissolves into the stones.
I shook.
"No," I whispered. "No, I—"
Lysander's voice cut sharply.
"Aura. Do NOT agree."
Kael staggered toward me, blood dripping down his temple.
"Aura," he gasped, "don't—DON'T—you don't know what it wants—"
I did.
It wanted me.
It always had.
My breath shook as Arcelia's body spasmed violently, the Primordial tightening its grip.
I looked at her—
my sister
my betrayer
the girl who killed me
the girl who envied me
the girl who lost everything too
"Arcelia…" I whispered.
She sobbed silently through the god's control.
"Aura…" she choked.
"Aura… please…"
And the Primordial whispered:
Choose.
Walls closing in.
Magic burning under my skin.
Kael bleeding.
Lysander trembling with power.
Arcelia dying.
My choice.
My fate.
My doom.
I opened my mouth—
And chose.