Chapter 22

Kael’s POV

I was burning.

The fire started in my chest, curling through my veins like liquid metal. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

Somewhere far away, I heard voices—muffled, frantic.

“…Kael…”

I knew that voice.

Raven.

I tried to reach for it, tried to break free from the heat swallowing me whole. But the darkness was stronger. It dragged me down, deeper, until I wasn’t sure if I was falling or sinking.

Then—

A crack of light.

Not warm. Not golden. Cold. Silver, like moonlight on ice.

I wasn’t in the forest anymore.

I was home.

Except—home was wrong.

The walls of the great hall stretched endlessly, twisting like something alive. The banners that once hung from the ceilings were torn, stained red. And in the center of the room, beneath the flickering torchlight—

A body.

I knew before I saw the face.

My father.

His throat was slit, blood pooling beneath him like ink on stone. His eyes—once sharp, once filled with fire—were empty.

I staggered forward. “No. No, this isn’t real.”

A laugh echoed from the shadows. Soft. Amused.

I turned fast, my heart hammering.

Aeliana stepped forward.

Her pale hair fell in waves over her shoulders, her silver eyes gleaming like stars. She looked just as she did the night before she died—before they took her.

“You shouldn’t be here, Kael.” Her voice was gentle, but her gaze cut through me like a blade.

I swallowed hard. “Neither should you.”

She smiled. Not warm. Not kind. “And yet, here we are.”

The torches flickered. The blood beneath my father’s body spread wider, crawling toward my boots.

I forced my eyes back to Aeliana. “Tell me what this is.”

“You already know.”

I did.

Somewhere, deep down, I always had.

The council. The lies. The carefully spun stories, feeding us just enough truth to keep us obedient.

Aeliana tilted her head. “They never planned to let me live, you know.”

I clenched my jaw. “I tried to save you.”

“I know.” Her smile softened for just a second. “But I was never meant to survive.”

The air around us grew thick, charged with something ancient and wrong. The walls twisted again, shifting into something else.

A council chamber.

I knew this place.

I’d stood here a hundred times, listening to the elders dictate the future of our people. But now, I saw what I hadn’t before.

The hidden symbols carved into the stone. The faint shimmer of magic woven through the walls.

And the thrones.

Not one. Not two. But three.

The council had always claimed to be equal, a shared power. But this—

This was a lie.

The middle throne was larger than the others. Older.

I stepped closer, my pulse racing. The carvings on the seat were worn, nearly invisible. But I knew them. I’d seen them before—

On the pendant around Raven’s neck.

The Moon’s Daughter.

The prophecy wasn’t just about her. It was about them. The ones before. The ones taken.

The council had been controlling this for centuries.

My stomach turned. “How many?” My voice was hoarse.

Aeliana’s gaze darkened. “Too many.”

The words hit harder than a blade.

They’d sacrificed them. Over and over. Every Moon’s Daughter, every heir who threatened their power.

And I—

I had been blind.

The walls shifted again. The air turned sharp, electric.

A storm was coming.

Aeliana stepped back. “It’s time to wake up.”

I reached for her, but the ground beneath me cracked. The silver light shattered, pulling me under.

Falling. Falling.

Until—

Pain.

Cold air slammed into my lungs. My eyes flew open, and I gasped, choking on the taste of blood and smoke.

“Kael?”

Raven’s voice. Real this time.

I blinked hard, forcing the world into focus. She was kneeling beside me, her hands gripping mine.

The forest was still dark. Still heavy. But something was different.

I could feel it.

The truth. The weight of what I’d seen.

Lysander was crouched nearby, sword still drawn. His eyes met mine. “You back?”

I swallowed hard. My throat burned. My body felt like it had been torn apart and stitched back together with fire.

But I nodded. “Yeah.”

Raven’s grip tightened. “Kael, what happened?”

I met her gaze, my chest still rising and falling too fast. The silver light from before still clung to her skin, flickering softly.

She didn’t know yet.

Didn’t know what they’d done.

Didn’t know she was never supposed to make it this far.

I sucked in a shaky breath. “The council—” My voice cracked. “They’re not what we think.”

Raven frowned. “What do you mean?”

I struggled to sit up, my muscles screaming in protest. The memories still clawed at my mind—the throne, the blood, the lies.

“They’ve been controlling the prophecy. Shaping it. Every Moon’s Daughter before you—they were never meant to survive.”

Her breath hitched.

Lysander muttered a curse under his breath. “You’re saying they—what? Sacrificed them?”

I met Raven’s eyes. “Yes.”

Her hands trembled. “But why?”

I exhaled slowly, the weight of it crushing. “To control the power.”

Her face paled.

“The Spire,” she whispered.

I nodded. “It’s more than just a stronghold. It’s a prison. A graveyard.” I forced the words out, hating every single one. “And you—” My throat tightened. “You were supposed to be next.”

Silence.

The kind that stretched, thick and suffocating.

Then—

A sound.

Low. Wrong.

Not human. Not wolf.

The trees shuddered. The ground vibrated.

Raven’s breath came out in a sharp gasp. “Something’s coming.”

Lysander was already on his feet, sword raised. “No,” he muttered. “It’s already here.”

The shadows moved.

Not like before. Not creeping. Not lurking.

Charging.

Straight for us.

I barely had time to grab my sword before the world exploded into chaos.

The shadows crashed into us like a tidal wave.

Lysander moved first, his sword cutting through the dark mass with practiced ease. Raven yanked me to my feet, her grip tight and urgent. My legs nearly gave out beneath me, but I forced them to hold. I couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now.

Not when they were here.

A guttural snarl ripped through the air, the sound vibrating in my ribs. The darkness took shape—twisting, shifting—until red eyes blinked open, glowing like embers in the night.

Wraiths.

Not fully human. Not fully anything.

The Spire’s cursed soldiers.

Raven cursed under her breath. “We need to move.”

“No,” I gritted out. “We need to fight.”

She shot me a look, one I didn’t have time to decipher before the first wraith lunged.

Its claws swiped for my throat, but I ducked just in time, driving my blade up into its ribs. The thing let out a shriek, writhing as shadows spilled from its wound like thick smoke. But it didn’t die.

Of course not.

They never died easily.

Lysander swung at another one, slicing its head clean off. The body crumpled, dissolving into the night. He didn’t stop moving. “Any brilliant ideas, Storm’s Heir?”

I barely dodged another strike. “Working on it.”

Raven raised her hands, and silver light flared from her palms. The wraiths hissed, shrinking back.

They were afraid of it.

Of her.

Something shifted in her expression. A realization.

She didn’t hesitate.

She pressed her hands against my arm—against the wound where the poison still burned—and the pain vanished.

Not lessened. Not dulled. Gone.

My breath caught. The Soulbane was supposed to be unstoppable. But her touch—

“Later,” she muttered, pulling away.

The wraiths had regrouped, circling, waiting.

Lysander tightened his grip on his sword. “We need to end this.”

Raven’s silver light pulsed.

I understood.

We weren’t going to win this fight by running.

We had to break them.

I shifted my stance, gripping my sword tighter. “On my mark.”

The wraiths tensed.

The air stilled.

I exhaled—

And we attacked.

Raven’s light burned through the night, searing through the wraiths like fire through dry grass. Their shrieks filled the air, shrill and inhuman. My sword found its mark, cutting through the darkness, forcing them back.

Lysander moved like a shadow, fast and precise, his blade finding every weak spot.

One by one, the wraiths fell.

The last of them let out a strangled wail before it disintegrated, swallowed by the silver glow.

Then—

Silence.

Heavy. Suffocating.

The battle was over.

But the real war had just begun.

Raven’s silver eyes met mine, wide with understanding.

“They’re not done with us,” she whispered.

I swallowed hard. “I know.”

And deep in my gut, I knew the council had felt everything.

They knew we were coming.

And they were ready.