MULTI-POV: SIDE CHARACTERS
Timeline: Same timeframe as Chapter 17
ELARA'S POV
Elara has been working in Castle Nocterra for forty-three years.
She's seen three Dark Kings come and go.
Watched kingdoms rise and fall.
Survived wars, plagues, political coups, and one very unfortunate incident involving a cursed goat (we don't talk about the goat).
But she's never seen King Ravion look like this.
"He's smiling," she whispers to Marta, one of the kitchen maids, as they watch the King and his consort walk through the gardens below.
"He smiles," Marta points out.
"Not like that!" Elara gestures emphatically. "Look at him! That's not his
'I'm-being-polite-to-nobles' smile or his 'I'm-terrifying-my-enemies' smile. That's a real smile!"
They watch as Ravion says something that makes Kieran laugh—bright and genuine—and the King's expression softens in a way Elara hasn't seen in... ever.
"Saints preserve us," Marta breathes. "He's in love."
"FINALLY!" Elara nearly shouts, then claps a hand over her mouth. "I've been waiting weeks for this!"
"You knew?"
"Of course I knew! I raised that boy!" Elara watches as Ravion's hand finds Kieran's, their fingers threading together naturally. "He's been pining since the wedding. All that 'I kidnapped him' guilt and 'he'll never forgive me' brooding. Exhausting."
"And the consort?"
They watch as Kieran leans into Ravion slightly—unconscious, comfortable—while pointing at something in the garden.
"Oh, that boy is smitten," Elara declares. "He just doesn't know it yet. Or won't admit it. But look at the way he keeps glancing at His Majesty when he thinks no one's watching."
"They're adorable," Marta sighs.
"They are!" Elara beams. "And they kissed last night! I knew they did! His Majesty had that 'I-finally-got-what-I-wanted' look at breakfast!"
"How can you tell?"
"Trust me. I know." She watches them disappear around a corner. "That boy needed someone to challenge him. To make him feel again. And our little consort—all fire and sass and 'I'm-not-falling-for-you'—is perfect."
"Do you think they'll be happy?"
Elara smiles—soft, knowing. "I think they already are. They just need to realize it."
DRAVEN'S POV
Draven has served the Sea God for two centuries.
He's seen Nyx through countless phases:
The Warrior Phase (lots of dramatic posturing, very exhausting).
The Scholarly Phase (boring, so many books).
The Brooding Phase (after that incident with the Storm God, we don't talk about it).
But this?
This is new.
"You're humming," Draven observes, watching Nyx arrange flowers—actual flowers—in Kaelis' chamber.
"I don't hum," Nyx says, clearly humming.
"You're humming. And smiling. And you've been rearranging those flowers for twenty minutes."
"I want them to look nice."
"You're a god. You could make them perfect with a thought."
"I want to do it manually." Nyx adjusts another flower. "It's more... meaningful."
Draven stares. "Who are you and what have you done with my lord?"
"Shut up."
"You kissed him, didn't you?"
Nyx's hand freezes mid-adjustment. "I don't know what you're—"
"You absolutely kissed him." Draven grins—which is terrifying on a sea serpent but Nyx is used to it. "FINALLY! I've been watching you pine for weeks!"
"I wasn't pining."
"You were absolutely pining. All that 'he'll never trust me' and 'I'm being too possessive' nonsense. Very tedious."
"I'm going to fire you."
"You can't fire me. I'm unionized." Draven coils around a pillar, settling in to gossip. "So? How was it? Did he panic? He seems like the type to panic."
"He panicked," Nyx admits, smiling despite himself.
"CALLED IT!"
"He called it a mistake."
"Ouch."
"Then kissed me again."
"HA! I love this story!"
Nyx finishes with the flowers, steps back to admire his work. "He's... different than I expected."
"How so?"
"More chaotic. More stubborn. —" Nyx's expression goes soft.
Draven makes a gagging sound. "You're disgusting."
"You asked."
"I regret it deeply." But he's smiling. "He's good for you, though. You've been lighter since he arrived. Less..." He gestures vaguely. "...ancient and brooding god-like."
"I'm still ancient and godlike."
"But less brooding." Draven tilts his massive head. "He challenges you. Makes you laugh. Makes you work for things instead of just expecting the ocean to hand them to you."
"Are you saying I'm entitled?"
"I'm saying you've been lonely for two centuries and finally found someone who makes you feel alive instead of just eternal." Draven's voice goes uncharacteristically serious. "Don't let him go, my lord. Whatever it takes. Keep him."
Nyx looks at the flowers. At the chamber he's prepared. At the life he's trying to build with someone who still doesn't fully trust him.
"I'm trying," he says quietly.
"Try harder."
LYRA'S POV
Lyra stands in the shadows of the corridor, watching.
Always watching.
It's what she does best.
The King and his consort pass by her hiding spot—so close she could reach out and touch them—laughing about something, holding hands.
She catalogs every detail:
The way His Majesty softens when he looks at the boy
The way the consort leans into him without thinking
The bond between them glowing faintly (stronger now, healing)
Problematic.
She waits until they're out of sight, then pulls a small mirror from her pocket. Dark magic swirls within the glass.
Queen Isolde's face appears. "Report."
"They're getting closer," Lyra says flatly. "The bond is strengthening. His Majesty is attached."
"And the boy?"
"Softening. He kissed His Majesty last night. Multiple times."
Isolde's expression hardens. "That complicates things."
"Should I proceed with the original plan?"
"Not yet. Let them grow comfortable. Let them think they're safe." Isolde's smile is cold. "The fall will hurt more that way."
"And the timing?"
"Soon. Very soon." Isolde leans closer to the mirror. "Is he eating the supplements I provided?"
"Daily. Dissolved in his evening tea."
"Good. The magic suppression will make him easier to transport when the time comes."
Magic suppression.
Lyra has been poisoning the consort for weeks. Small doses. Undetectable.
Not enough to kill. Just enough to weaken.
Just enough to make him helpless when Isolde makes her move.
"Anything else?" Isolde asks.
"The Sea God attempted to breach our defenses yesterday. Looking for the twin."
"Let him look. He won't find Kaelis. Not with the wards I've placed." Isolde pauses. "But it confirms they know about each other now."
"Should I—"
"Do nothing. Let them bond." Isolde's smile turns vicious. "It'll make separating them so much sweeter."
The mirror goes dark.
Lyra tucks it away, expression blank.
She's been with Queen Isolde for fifteen years.
Helped her with countless schemes.
Doesn't question. Doesn't judge.
Just obeys.
Still.
Watching the King and his consort—the way they look at each other, the happiness starting to bloom between them—
Something almost like regret flickers through her chest.
Almost.
She crushes it.
Goes to prepare tonight's tea.
The suppression must continue.
The plan must proceed.
Nothing can interfere.
THE ORACLE'S POV
The Oracle sits in her temple—a place that exists everywhere and nowhere, in all times and no time.
Before her, two pools of water shimmer with visions:
Left pool: Kieran and Ravion in Nocterra's gardens. Laughing. Happy.
Right pool: Kaelis and Nyx in the Tidelands. Arguing (fondly). Content.
She's been watching since the beginning.
Since the night the stars bled.
Since the prophecy split.
Since two became one became two again.
"You're changing it," she murmurs to the visions. "The prophecy. You're rewriting it."
The prophecy was simple once:
One prince to save or destroy the Dark King.
But the magic fractured.
Split the prince across time.
Created two where there should be one.
And now?
Now the prophecy is evolving.
New words appear in her mind, glowing like starlight:
Two princes born of bleeding stars,
One to shadows, one to sea,
Split by time and fate and scars,
Bound by love to set them free.
When dark and water learn to blend,
When cursed and fated choose to mend,
The twins shall meet, the war shall end,
And prophecy shall break—or bend.
She traces the words in the air. They hang there, shimmering.
"Love," she whispers. "You added love to the equation."
The prophecy never accounted for this.
For Kieran choosing Ravion despite everything.
For Kaelis accepting Nyx despite his fears.
For bonds forming that weren't forced but earned.
The Oracle watches as:
Ravion kisses Kieran's temple (gentle)
Nyx makes Kaelis laugh (genuine)
Both couples healing each other
"You're supposed to destroy or save," she says. "Not love."
But love is powerful.
Love can rewrite prophecies.
Love can change fate.
"Isolde," the Oracle murmurs, turning her attention to a third pool.
In it: Queen Isolde, Preparing to strike.
"You see them as tools."
Isolde's reflection sneers. "They are tools. My tools. My sons."
"They're not your sons. They're people."
"They're mine."
The Oracle sighs. "You'll lose. You know that, don't you? Love always wins against obsession."
"We'll see."
The vision fades.
The Oracle looks back at the two pools—at the two couples finding happiness in impossible circumstances.
"Be careful," she whispers to them, though they cannot hear. "She's coming. And when she does, you'll need each other."
She waves her hand.
The pools ripple.
Show future instead of present:
Kieran in chains (screaming)
Kaelis fighting (desperate)
Ravion and Nyx working together (impossible alliance)
A battle that will shake both realms
"The prophecy bends," the Oracle says quietly. "But it doesn't break easily."
She closes her eyes.
Prays to gods older than herself.
"Protect them. Please. They deserve happiness."
The visions fade.
The temple falls silent.
And somewhere, in two different realms, two couples laugh together—
Unaware of the storm coming.
Unaware that their newfound happiness is on borrowed time.
Unaware that Queen Isolde is watching.
Ready to strike.