Seraphina's POV
The rope cuts into my wrists so hard I can feel blood dripping down my fingers.
"Witch! Burn the witch!"
The crowd's screaming hits me like physical blows. I search desperately for one friendly face—just one person who remembers that three days ago, I healed old Martha's fever. That last week, I saved the baker's son from a wolf bite. That I've never hurt anyone in my entire life.
But their eyes hold only hate and fear.
"Please!" I scream, pulling against the ropes. The wooden stake digs into my spine. "I'm not a witch! I only wanted to help people!"
A rotten tomato smashes into my cheek. Then another. The crowd laughs.
My eyes find my father standing at the front. "Papa, please! Tell them the truth!" My voice breaks. "Tell them I'm your daughter!"
Father's face turns away. His jaw clenches tight, but he says nothing. The man who taught me to read, who braided my hair when I was small, who promised he'd always protect me—he won't even look at me.
"Such a touching scene," a sweet voice calls out.
My half-sister Callista steps forward, wearing my mother's emerald necklace—the one thing I had left of her. Callista's red lips curve into a smile that doesn't reach her cold blue eyes.
"Dear sister," she says loudly so everyone can hear. "If only you'd used your powers for good instead of making deals with dark spirits."
"That's a lie!" I yell. "You know it's a lie, Callista! You're the one who—"
"Silence the witch!" someone shouts.
The village priest raises his torch high. His face twists with disgust as he looks at me. "Seraphina Ashvale, you have been found guilty of witchcraft and consorting with demons. The evidence is clear."
"What evidence?" I sob. "I healed people! My gift comes from—"
"From darkness!" the priest thunders. "Three nights ago, you were seen speaking to shadows in the woods. A witness heard you calling upon forbidden powers!"
My blood turns to ice. Three nights ago, I was gathering herbs for medicine. Alone. No one saw me because no one was there.
I stare at Callista. Her smile grows wider.
She set me up. She planned this.
"Any last words, witch?" the priest asks.
I look at my father one more time. "Papa, I know you're weak. I know Callista controls you now that Mother is gone. But deep down, you know I'm innocent. How can you let them do this to me?"
Finally, Father meets my eyes. For one heartbeat, I see pain flicker across his face. His mouth opens like he might speak—
Callista touches his arm gently. Whispers something in his ear.
Father's expression goes blank. He turns his back on me completely.
Something inside me breaks worse than any bone could.
"I have no daughter," Father says clearly. "Burn the witch."
The crowd erupts in cheers.
"No!" I scream. "No, please! I'm innocent! Please, someone help me!"
The priest lowers his torch. The oil-soaked wood at my feet catches fire instantly. Flames bloom like deadly flowers, orange and gold and hungry.
Heat slams into my legs. I scream louder than I've ever screamed in my life.
But not from the pain—though it's worse than anything I've imagined.
I scream from the betrayal burning hotter than any fire. My own blood condemned me. The people I healed want me dead. Everything I thought was true about my life was a lie.
Smoke fills my lungs. I choke and cough, eyes streaming tears. Through the gray haze, I see Callista blow me a mocking kiss. She's already wearing my favorite blue dress—the one Mother made for me before she died.
She planned to take everything from me. My father's love. My inheritance. My life.
And she succeeded.
The flames climb higher, wrapping around me like a burning blanket. My dress catches fire. The pain is beyond words now. My vision blurs and darkens at the edges.
I'm going to die.
I'm twenty-three years old, and I'm going to die being called a monster when all I ever wanted was to help people.
This isn't fair, I think desperately. I was good. I was kind. Why is this happening?
My eyes close as smoke steals my breath. The crowd's screaming fades to a distant roar like ocean waves.
Everything hurts.
Everything burns.
Everything ends.
Darkness swallows me whole.
I'm dead.
I must be dead.
But if I'm dead, why do I still feel like me? Why can I still think?
Slowly, carefully, I open my eyes.
I'm not in the town square anymore.
I'm standing in a place made of pure white light—so bright it should hurt to look at, but somehow doesn't. The ground beneath my bare feet feels solid but looks like clouds. Above me, stars shine even though there's no night sky.
"Hello, Seraphina."
I spin around.
A woman stands behind me. She's the most beautiful person I've ever seen—tall and graceful, with long silver hair that floats around her like she's underwater. Her eyes glow with soft golden light.
But it's not her beauty that makes my breath catch.
It's the power radiating from her like heat from the sun. Every instinct I have screams that I'm standing before something ancient and impossibly strong.
Something divine.
"W-who are you?" My voice shakes. I look down at my hands—they're clean. No burns. No blood. The ropes are gone. I'm wearing a simple white dress that definitely isn't mine.
The woman smiles gently. "I am Elara, the Goddess of Mercy." She steps closer, her bare feet making no sound. "And you, my dear child, should not be dead."
My mind reels. A goddess? This has to be a dream. Or maybe I'm going crazy in my final moments before death takes me completely.
"I don't understand," I whisper.
Elara's eyes fill with sadness as she looks at me. "Your family murdered you, Seraphina. They called you a witch and burned you alive. But the truth is far more complicated than they knew."
She raises one hand. The air between us shimmers, and suddenly I see my own face reflected back at me—but different. My brown eyes glow with golden light. Strange marks shimmer on my skin like tattoos made of sunshine.
"You are not a witch," Elara says softly. "You never were. You are a Lightbearer—one of my chosen children, born with divine magic meant to heal and protect the world."
I stare at the glowing version of myself. "But... that's impossible. I'm nobody. I'm just—"
"You were suppressed," Elara interrupts. "Someone placed a curse on you as a baby to hide your true nature. They made you weak. Made you seem like less than you are. Your sister discovered the truth and decided to eliminate you before your powers could fully awaken."
Rage floods through me so hot and sharp it steals my breath. "Callista knew? She knew I was innocent and killed me anyway?"
"She feared what you would become." Elara's voice hardens. "But she made a grave mistake. She gave you exactly what you needed."
"What do you mean?"
The goddess's smile turns knowing. "She gave you death. And death, my dear Seraphina, can be the greatest gift of all."
She extends her hand toward me. "I am offering you a choice. Return to the world of the living with your true powers awakened. Become what you were always meant to be. Help me save a dying world from the darkness spreading through it."
My heart pounds. "You're saying... I can go back? I can live again?"
"Yes. But there is a price."
Of course there is.
"What price?" I ask carefully.
Elara's golden eyes gleam with something I can't quite read. "You must serve me as my Chosen vessel. You must face dangers beyond anything you've known. And you must accept a guardian to protect you while you learn to control your powers."
"A guardian?"
"A warrior bound to you by magic. He will keep you alive while you grow strong enough to stand on your own."
I think of Callista's triumphant smile. Father's turned back. The crowd's hate-filled faces.
They think I'm dead and gone. They think they won.
"If I agree," I say slowly, "will I be strong enough to make them pay for what they did?"
Elara studies me for a long moment. "Revenge is a dangerous path, child."
"I don't care about danger," I snap. "I care about justice. They murdered an innocent person. They deserve to face consequences."
The goddess nods slightly. "Then yes. Eventually, you will be powerful enough to face anyone who wronged you. But that power comes with responsibility. You must use it wisely."
I look down at my unmarked hands. Just hours ago—or maybe years ago, I don't know how time works here—these hands were burning. My family watched me die screaming.
Now a goddess offers me a second chance.
Really, there's only one possible answer.
I lift my chin and meet Elara's glowing eyes. "I accept. Send me back. Make me strong." My voice drops to something cold and determined. "And when I'm ready, everyone who hurt me will learn what a real witch can do."
Elara's smile is both beautiful and terrifying. "Then let us begin."
She touches my forehead with one finger.
Blinding golden light explodes through my vision. I feel my body changing, power flooding into me like water into a dried-up well. It fills every empty space inside me until I think I might burst from the pressure.
Then the light fades.
I'm standing in a massive hall made of white marble and gold. Tall pillars stretch up to a ceiling so high I can barely see it. Other figures move in the distance—people who glow with the same divine power as Elara.
I'm in her realm. The home of the gods.
"There is one more thing," Elara says behind me.
I turn to face her, still trying to process everything. "What?"
The goddess gestures to something—someone—I didn't notice before.
A man kneels at the edge of the hall, head bowed. He's tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in black armor that looks like it's seen countless battles. Dark hair falls across his face, hiding his features.
But even from here, I can feel the deadly power radiating from him.
"This," Elara says, "is Kael Nightshade. My most skilled and dangerous guardian. He has served me for three centuries without question or failure."
The man—Kael—doesn't move. Doesn't look up.
"He will be bound to you," Elara continues. "Your protector. Your teacher. Your partner in the battles to come."
Something about the way she says it makes my skin prickle with warning.
"Rise, Kael," the goddess commands.
The warrior stands in one fluid motion. When he finally lifts his head, I forget how to breathe.
He's beautiful in a harsh, dangerous way—sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, full lips set in a grim line. But it's his eyes that pin me in place. They're silver, like moonlight on water, and completely cold.
Those eyes look at me with such clear resentment and anger that I step back instinctively.
He doesn't want this. Doesn't want me.
"Kael has served me faithfully for centuries," Elara says. "As reward for his loyalty, I'm giving him the honor of protecting my new Chosen."
Kael's jaw clenches so hard I can see the muscle jump. But he bows his head. "As you command, Goddess."
His voice is deep and rough, like gravel. And absolutely furious.
Elara raises both hands. "Then let the binding begin."
Before I can ask what that means, golden light erupts from the goddess's palms. It splits into two streams—one flying toward me, one toward Kael.
The light slams into my chest. I gasp as warmth spreads through my entire body. It doesn't hurt, but it feels invasive, like something is reaching deep inside me and wrapping around my heart.
Across from me, Kael grunts as the same light hits him. His silver eyes widen, then squeeze shut.
A glowing chain materializes in the air between us—one end attached to my chest, the other to his. It pulses with golden light, visible proof of our connection.
"You are now bound," Elara announces. "Guardian and Chosen. Protector and protected. His life is pledged to your safety. Your power will grow with his guidance."
The chain fades from view, but I can still feel it. Feel him. His emotions bleed through our new connection—anger, frustration, and beneath it all, bone-deep exhaustion.
He's so tired. He's been fighting for so long.
And now he's stuck with me.
Kael opens his eyes. Those cold silver eyes lock onto mine, and I see the promise there clear as day: I don't want you. I don't like you. We will never be friends.
Perfect. Because I don't need a friend.
I need a weapon.
And this furious, powerful guardian bound to my service will do just fine.
"When do we start?" I ask Elara, not breaking eye contact with Kael.
The goddess smiles like she knows a secret we don't. "Right now."
She waves her hand. The golden hall dissolves around us like mist.
My stomach lurches as reality twists and reforms.
When the world solidifies again, I'm standing in grass. Real, mortal-world grass. The sky above is gray with approaching dawn.
I'm alive again.
I look down at my hands—solid, real, warm. My heart beats in my chest. Air fills my lungs.
I'm back.
"Get up."
Kael stands a few feet away, arms crossed, face completely blank. The barely controlled rage I felt through our bond is locked away behind iron walls now. But I know it's there.
"We don't have time to waste," he says flatly. "You died. You came back. Congratulations. Now you have work to do, and I have orders to follow."
He turns and starts walking without checking if I follow.
I struggle to my feet—my body feels strange, buzzing with new power I don't understand. "Wait! Where are we going?"
He doesn't stop. "Away from here. Your family thinks you're dead. We're keeping it that way until you're strong enough to face them."
I hurry after him, anger flaring hot. "You could be nicer about this!"
Kael stops so abruptly I almost run into his back. He turns, and those silver eyes pin me in place like knives.
"Let me make something very clear," he says, voice low and dangerous. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't want a partner, especially not a newly-dead mortal with powers she can't control. But the goddess commanded, so here I am."
He steps closer. I refuse to back away, even though every instinct screams at me to run.
"I will keep you alive," he continues. "I will train you. I will follow my orders. But do not expect kindness. Do not expect friendship. I'm not here to hold your hand or wipe away your tears."
His eyes bore into mine. "I'm here to make sure you don't die again. That's it. Nothing more."
The bond between us pulses. Despite his cold words, I feel something else beneath the surface—a crack in his armor, a wound that never healed.
He's not just angry at me.
He's angry at the world. At the goddess. At fate itself.
"Fine," I say quietly. "I don't need you to like me. I just need you to make me strong enough to destroy everyone who hurt me."
Something flickers in Kael's expression—surprise, maybe, or respect.
"Then we understand each other," he says.
He turns and keeps walking.
I follow in silence, my hand pressed against my chest where the invisible bond lives. Through it, I feel Kael's emotions like whispers: resentment, duty, exhaustion.
And buried deepest of all, hidden so carefully I almost miss it—loneliness so profound it makes my throat tight.
This guardian who acts like he wants nothing to do with me is the loneliest person I've ever met.
But I don't say anything. Don't acknowledge what I felt.
We walk into the forest as the sun rises behind us, lighting our path.
Two broken people, bound together by divine magic, walking toward an unknown future.
Neither of us knows it yet, but everything—everything—is about to change.
And the world will never be the same again.