Chapter 100 THE SECRET
Two souls.
Coiled together like serpents sharing a single heart.
Athalia cried out once more and the child was born with a cry that did not sound like a newborn’s.
It echoed.
Selene caught the infant before he slipped.
He was warm. Solid. Human.
And for the briefest flicker, his eyes opened.
Gold.
Then, deep beneath the gold, something red moved like an ember under ash.
Selene wrapped him quickly in cloth before anyone else saw.
“It’s a boy,” she said.
Athalia sagged back against the pillows, tears spilling down her temples. “Let me see him.”
Selene hesitated only a breath before bringing the child to her.
Athalia smiled weakly as she gathered him to her chest.
“He’s perfect,” she whispered.
Selene forced herself to nod.
Across the room, the fire went out.
No one noticed except Selene’s Master.
Hours later, the child slept in a cradle beside the bed.
Too still.
Too quiet.
The old man stepped forward as Athalia slept, robes the color of smoke, eyes pale as moonlight behind thin lids.
Selene bowed her head. “Master… did you feel it?”
“Anyone as strong as I am could feel it from three kingdoms away,” he said.
His voice was dry, like leaves dragged across stone.
Selene glanced at the cradle. “Then you know what it is. Tell me.”
He approached slowly, gaze fixed on the sleeping infant.
“I only know something ancient has stirred,” he replied.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is the only one you are ready for.”
Her hands curled into fists. “Tell me. Please.”
He stopped beside the cradle.
The baby’s chest rose and fell.
Once.
Twice.
Then, between breaths, a faint second pulse flickered beneath the skin of his throat.
The old man exhaled through his nose. “You’ve delivered a vessel.”
“For what?” she demanded.
“For two.”
Silence rang between them.
Selene’s throat tightened. “Explain.”
He did not touch the child, but his gaze sharpened, as if seeing beyond flesh.
“One soul is human,” he said. “Royal. Bound to blood and crown. And the other…”
His eyes flicked to hers.
“Alive, but a ghost,” he continued. “Summoned.”
Selene felt the floor tilt.
“That’s not possible,” she whispered. “No spells was performed beyond what I needed to bring my husband back.”
“You thought it harmless, but you invoked something far worse,” he said.
Her mind raced.
It began to make sense.
Athalia’s strange illness during pregnancy. The earthquakes. The omens.
Alaric’s change in temperament.
Her hands went cold.
“Who?” she asked, as if lying to herself to escape the answer.
The old man didn’t reply.
“Who would dare bind a demon sovereign into a royal heir?” he asked instead. “Someone who believes the world needs saving.”
“By creating a monster,” he added quietly, “and calling it a weapon.”
“I believe you know the answer. And to whom.”
Selene looked at the baby again.
He yawned.
Small.
Fragile.
Terrifying.
“Can it be undone?” she asked.
The old man was silent for a long time.
“Yes,” he said at last.
Hope flared — brief and bright.
Then he continued.
“But not without consequence.”
“Tell me.”
“You can separate them.”
Her breath caught.
“But souls do not split cleanly,” he warned.
“You will wound both.”
“I don’t care,” she said instantly.
He studied her. “You should.”
“What happens if they stay bound?” she asked.
“The demon will grow faster,” he said. “Stronger. Hungrier. When the body matures, it will not share.”
Selene swallowed. “You mean it will devour the human soul.”
“Yes.”
“And if I separate them?”
“The human child may live,” he said. “But the other half will not vanish.”
“Where will it go?”
He met her eyes.
“Nowhere good. It will still hunger. And if they ever meet again — even by chance — doom will follow.”
The baby stirred, a faint sound escaping his lips.
For a moment, Selene could swear the shadows in the room leaned closer.
“Do it before the third month,” the old man said. “After that, they will be too entwined.”
Selene nodded slowly.
Athalia’s laughter echoed faintly up the tower chamber, weak but joyful as she spoke with Lira.
Selene closed her eyes. “She cannot know.”
“No mother would agree,” the old man replied.
“And if she tries to stop me… both souls die, right?”
“You must do what you must.”
She opened her eyes.
“I will do it.”
The old man studied her — not with approval, not with disapproval.
Only recognition.
“Then understand this,” he said. “You are choosing which tragedy the world can survive.”
Three months later, Athalia stood weakly by the window of her chamber, watching spring unfold across the palace gardens.
Behind her, the baby gurgled in his cradle.
Selene watched him instead of the view.
He had grown too quickly.
His limbs were longer than they should be. His gaze followed movement with unsettling focus. And sometimes, when he cried, the sound vibrated in the glass.
“You’re staring again,” Athalia said gently.
Selene forced a smile. “He’s remarkable.”
“He laughed this morning,” Athalia said. “Did you hear? Like bells.”
Selene had heard.
It hadn’t sounded like bells.
It had sounded like something testing its voice.
On the night of Celine’s attack, the shadow guard followed Athalia under the pretense of helping her escape — but instead rendered her unconscious.
While Athalia slept, she was carried to the tower.
Selene took the child to the hidden chamber beneath the eastern tower, locking the doors behind her.
Candles burned in a circle carved into the stone floor.
Her Master waited in the shadows.
“You’re certain?” he asked.
Selene looked down at the baby.
He stared back at her, wide-eyed.
For a second, his pupils stretched vertically.
Then returned to normal.
“Yes,” she whispered.
The spells began.
The child did not cry.
But the walls did.
When it was over, the chamber was sealed — no way in, no way out.
When Athalia woke to silence, she screamed.
She rushed to the cradle.
It was empty.
“Selene?” she called, panic rising.
No answer.
She ran barefoot through the chamber, heart pounding.
There was no escape except the high, open window overlooking the deadly drop from the tower.
Years later, Selene stood at the mouth of a cave, watching the young man walk toward the light.
She had told no one.
Not Alaric.
Not the Queen.
Not even the old Master again.
The secret lived in her alone.
The human prince walked beneath the open sky.
Somewhere else in the world, the other half had awakened too.
And Selene finally faced the truth she had been outrunning since that night in the tower chamber:
She had not saved the world.
She had only delayed its ruin.
The wind rose across the mountains.
Far away, Athalia stopped walking and pressed a hand to her chest as a sudden ache bloomed there — sharp, unfamiliar, and shared.
Somewhere beyond her sight, she moved closer to a bond that had never truly been broken.