Chapter 84 The Threshold
I was asleep when the air around me shifted. It wasn't an ordinary awakening. My body remained lying down, but my mind was pulled out, as if invisible hands were tearing me from reality. I opened my eyes and I was no longer in the castle room.
The ground beneath my feet was made of solid mist. The sky had no color, only movement. Shadows stretched and receded as if breathing. I recognized that place.
The spirit world.
"Time's up."
The voice echoed all around, soft and cruel at the same time. Before me, a figure began to form. It wasn't entirely solid, but its presence was overwhelming. An Elyrion. Its eyes shone like dying stars.
"You were warned," it continued. "But now you are being summoned."
"Summoned for what?" I asked, feeling my hand instinctively go to my belly.
The Elyrion tilted its head, as if analyzing something beyond me. "To choose."
"I've already chosen," I replied firmly. "My kingdom. My family."
She approached, and the mist around us stirred. "And that's precisely why you're in danger. What grows inside you doesn't belong only to this world."
My heart raced. "My son isn't a weapon."
"No," she agreed. "But he will be seen as one."
Images exploded around us. Shadows being consumed. Erasers writhing in pain. A castle in flames. A throne stained with blood. Conrad, on his knees. I screamed, clutching my head.
"Stop!"
"The choices made from now on will decide whether the balance is broken or restored," Elyrion said. "Dark magic already senses the child. And he will respond."
"Then tell me what to do," I pleaded. "Tell me how to protect him."
Elyrion's gaze turned serious. "You will have to descend where no queen has ever descended. The Rift is not the end of the road, Maya. It is merely the doorway."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then others will decide for you."
The mist began to dissipate. The ground vanished beneath my feet.
"Trust the bond," was the last thing I heard. "But remember: not every enemy will come as a shadow."
I woke up gasping, sitting up in bed. Conrad was beside me in a second.
"The spirit world spoke to me," I whispered.
And, from his gaze, I knew.
The warning wasn't just for me.
It was for all of us.
Conrad held my face carefully, as if I could disappear at any moment.
"What did they say?" his voice was low, too controlled to be calm.
I swallowed hard. My body still trembled, not from cold, but from the sensation of having been touched by something too ancient. Something that didn't care about crowns or promises.
"They said time's up," I replied. "That I'm being summoned... to choose."
His eyes darkened. "Choose between what?"
"Between acting now or letting them decide for us." I took a deep breath. "They know about the baby, Conrad. The dark magic already senses his presence. Not as a child... but as a possibility."
He took a step back, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to organize the chaos those words brought. "So that's it. It wasn't paranoia. The erasers aren't approaching by chance."
"No," I confirmed. "They're being drawn to them."
Conrad turned back to me and placed his hand on my belly carefully, almost reverently. "I won't let them use our child as an excuse to destroy this kingdom."
"Neither will I." My voice came out firmer than I felt. "But Elyrion spoke of the Rift. Said it wasn't the end, but a gateway. That I would have to go where no queen has gone before."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"That sounds like a trap," he finally said.
"Perhaps it is." I looked up at him. "But it could also be the only way to stop a war before it begins."
Conrad knelt before me, resting his forehead against mine. "I should be able to protect you from all of this."
"You do," I replied, touching his face. "But there are things only I can face. Just as there are things only you can keep standing here."
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if accepting a bitter truth. "Then let's do it right. Council, Kael, the guardians. No one stays in the dark this time."
I nodded. "And one more thing." I hesitated. "Elyrion said that not every enemy will come as a shadow."
Conrad opened his eyes slowly. "So we're surrounded."
"Yes," I murmured. "But they still haven't realized that I've also learned to see in the dark."
Outside, thunder echoed in the distance.
And I knew.
The warning had only been the first step.
The thunder still echoed when I felt the air in the room change.
It wasn't noise. Nor light. It was their absence.
The torchlight flickered, as if something were draining its strength, and my symbol burned against my skin. I instinctively placed my hand on my stomach. The baby reacted. Not with fear—with power.
"Conrad…," I whispered.
He felt it too. His muscles tensed, the wolf beneath his skin awakening. "They are here."
Not "nearby." Here.
The shadows began to move across the walls, distorted, like mistaken memories. They didn't take full form, but I recognized enough to make my stomach churn. Faces. Empty eyes. People who had already been consumed.
"They didn't come to attack," I realized, the understanding hitting me like a blow. "They came to warn."
One of the shadows stood out from the others, denser, more conscious. When it spoke, it didn't use voice—it used thought.
"The choice has been seen."
I fell to my knees, the air escaping my lungs. Conrad tried to hold me back, but an invisible force pushed him back.
"The heiress carries the threshold. The kingdom will be saved... or condemned... in her blood."
"You will not touch my son," I growled, feeling the dark magic mingle with the light that Elyrion had awakened within me.
The shadow retreated, as if smiling.
"We don't need to touch him. Others will."
Then everything ceased.
The torches began to burn again. Silence returned. But it wasn't the same.
Conrad rushed to me, enveloping me tightly. "What did they mean?"
I stared at the bedroom door, my heart racing too fast to ignore the premonition tearing me apart inside.
"That the next threat will not come from the shadows," I replied. "It will come from someone who walks in the light."
On the other side of the castle, a bell began to ring.
Emergency.
And I knew, with cold certainty, that the game had changed—and that the next move wouldn't be mine.