The Primordial's voice echoed through the chamber like a heartbeat made of knives.
Choose.
Its grip on Arcelia tightened—her body arched unnaturally, her throat releasing a strangled cry that didn't sound human.
Kael stumbled toward me, bleeding, breath shaky.
"Aura—don't—DON'T listen—"
"Aura," Lysander snarled, shadows rising like storm clouds behind him, "I swear to you—if you agree to this, I will drag you out even if the god tears the world in half."
He meant it.
But none of that mattered.
Not Kael's fear.
Not Lysander's fury.
Not the council.
Not the kingdom.
Not fate itself.
Arcelia's eyes—
her real eyes—
looked at me through the ruin-light.
Wide.
Terrified.
Begging.
"Aura…" she choked, voice layered with something monstrous underneath.
"Please…"
My heart cracked.
She killed me once.
But before that—
she was my sister.
I took a slow breath.
Then I stepped forward.
Kael shouted.
Lysander cursed violently.
The Primordial purred with delight.
But I didn't say "yes."
I didn't say "I accept."
I whispered something else.
Something the Primordial did NOT expect.
"I choose myself."
The silence was immediate.
Sharp.
Electric.
Kael's eyes widened.
Lysander froze mid-step.
Arcelia's head jerked violently as the god inside her recoiled.
What…?
The ruins themselves trembled in confusion.
I stepped closer, voice steady despite the shaking earth.
"I won't sacrifice myself for my sister," I said. "And I won't sacrifice her for me."
Kael stared, chest rising and falling in disbelief.
Lysander's eyes burned with something fierce and unreadable.
"I choose," I whispered, "a third path."
There is no third path,
the Primordial hissed, voice shaking with growing anger.
There is only death or devotion.
"Not anymore," I said. "You don't get to write my destiny."
The Primordial shrieked—
a sound so powerful dust rained from the ceiling.
Arcelia screamed with it
her body jerking
cracking
breaking—
Kael lunged forward.
"Aura, DO something—SHE'S DYING—!"
"I know!" I shouted.
Lysander grabbed my arm.
"Aura—listen to me—you can't break a god's bargain without paying—"
"I'm not breaking it," I whispered.
"I'm rewriting it."
The Primordial reeled.
IMPOSSIBLE.
My magic surged.
Hard.
Light spilled across my skin—
pure silver, brighter than moonfire.
Kael stumbled backward.
"What—Aura—your eyes—"
Lysander whispered almost reverently.
"The moon has chosen her fully…"
The Primordial roared.
YOU WERE MINE FIRST!
"No," I whispered.
"You only touched me."
I raised my hand.
Silver blazed outwards—
not as a weapon
but as truth.
"I am not your vessel," I said.
"I am not your doorway."
"I am not your sacrifice."
My voice echoed unnaturally—
layered with something deeper, older.
Something inside me had awakened.
The chamber split with light.
Arcelia's body convulsed as the Primordial was forced back—
inch by inch
screaming through her throat.
Kael shielded his face with his arm.
"HOW—how is she doing this—?!"
Lysander answered without looking away from me.
"She is doing what her mother paid for."
His voice softened.
"She is taking back her life."
The Primordial clawed at me through Arcelia's voice.
If you choose yourself—
then I will TAKE her!
I will make her my body, my tongue, my blood—
"No," I said, stepping forward again.
Silver exploded beneath my feet.
"You don't get ANY of us."
I lifted my hand.
Moonfire gathered like a star falling into my palm.
Not destructive.
Not evil.
Not Primordial.
Mine.
Then I pressed my glowing palm to Arcelia's chest.
The world ruptured.
A blast of pure energy shot outward—
the ruins cracking
the altar splitting
the sigils flaring to life.
Arcelia screamed—
not in pain
but in release.
The Primordial howled with rage.
NO!
NO—NO—YOU CANNOT—
YOU ARE MINE—
I lowered my voice.
"I was never yours."
And then—
I pulled.
Not her soul.
Not her life.
The god.
I ripped the Primordial out of Arcelia's body.
It came out like smoke being sucked from a flame—
black-light twisting
screaming
thrashing—
Kael collapsed to his knees, stunned.
"Stars above…"
Arcelia fell unconscious into his arms.
And the god—
freed from her—
turned its full, murderous attention to me.
Lysander moved instantly, throwing up a wall of shadow to intercept it.
The Primordial struck like lightning.
Shadow and god-force collided—
The explosion knocked the entire ruin structure sideways.
Kael shielded Arcelia's body.
I was thrown backwards—
but Lysander caught me in midair.
Except—
Something was wrong.
He staggered.
His knees buckled.
"Lysander!" I gasped.
He didn't answer.
He looked down at his side—
at the black, smoking wound spreading across his ribs.
A wound made by a god.
His face paled.
Kael stared in horror.
"You're bleeding," he whispered.
Lysander looked at his hand, touched the dark blood, and muttered, almost amused:
"I haven't bled in three hundred years."
His eyes lifted to me.
"Only you," he said quietly, "could push a god far enough to wound one of its own."
The Primordial recoiled in the center of the chamber—
a swirling mass of dark fire and old hunger.
Not defeated.
Not gone.
But weakened.
And furious.
LITTLE DOOR,
it hissed.
YOU WILL OPEN FOR ME—WILLINGLY OR BROKEN—
Lysander pulled me behind him, staggering but still standing.
Kael rose to his feet, sword drawn, shaking with adrenaline.
"Aura," he said hoarsely, "tell me what to do—tell me HOW to fight this—"
I stared at the swirling god-smoke.
Terrified.
Shaking.
Exhausted.
But alive.
For the first time in two lifetimes—
I was choosing my own path.
"We don't fight it today," I whispered.
Kael blinked. "What?"
Lysander nodded faintly. "She's right."
"We survive," I said.
"And then?"
I met Kael's terrified, determined eyes.
"We prepare for war."
The Primordial shrieked, the ruins trembling around it—
And then it vanished into the cracked altar, pulled back into the depths of the earth.
Retreating.
Waiting.
Bleeding.
But not defeated.
Not yet.
The silence afterward was deafening.
Kael held Arcelia's unconscious body.
Lysander leaned heavily against the crumbling wall, clutching his wound.
I stood between them—
shaking from the choice I made
terrified of the war I had just declared
alive with a magic that wasn't supposed to exist.
And for the first time…
I realized:
The Primordial didn't want me dead.
It wanted me crowned.