The war horns of Korythae split the dawn like thunder.
Magna stood at the balcony of the Sky Citadel, the morning wind whipping strands of her seafoam-blue hair across her face. Her soft, wide-set blue eyes, usually so serene, were now shadowed with a burgeoning dread, and a delicate smattering of freckles dusted the bridge of her nose. Below each eye, a subtle, dark teardrop marking seemed to deepen with her despair. Below, the Scarlet Plains churned with the armies of three kingdoms—Xianthos' crimson banners snapping in the wind, Kazaroth's golden falcons wheeling overhead, and now, crashing against the gates like a vengeful tide, the storm-gray forces of her homeland.
He came.
Her father had sworn on her mother's memory he wouldn't.
"You should be inside." Lucien's voice, smooth as Ember-Jade, came from behind her. His amber eyes, sharp and intelligent, reflected the rising sun. Three faint, crescent-shaped markings were etched beneath each, giving his intense gaze an almost predatory edge. His hand closed around her wrist—the touch that once made her pulse quicken now felt like a shackle.
Magna wrenched free. "You knew this would happen."
"I knew your father would break his word. Just as I knew you'd stand here watching for him."
The accusation stung. "You gave him no choice. Your blockade starved our ports. Your soldiers—"
"A king always has choices." Lucien stepped closer. "He chose war the moment he sent you here as his 'gift'."
Magna spun to face him. "I came as a bride!"
"Did you?" His fingers traced the Storm-Onyx pendant at her throat—the one piece of home she refused to remove. "When you paint your seascapes at midnight, do you dream of Haelmora's shores? When you walk the gardens, do you measure each step back to your ship?"
A roar erupted from below. Her father's black dragon standard now flew at the front lines, his forces breaking through Xianthos' defenses.
Lucien's hand dropped to his sword. "He's early."
The words chilled her. This wasn't just betrayal—it was a trap sprung too soon.
Then she saw it.
Her father, astride his warhorse, raising his bow. Not at the gates. Not at the soldiers.
Straight at Lucien's heart.
Time slowed.
Magna opened her mouth to scream—
The arrow struck with the cruel precision of a lover's betrayal.
She felt it before she heard it—a hot, sickening punch between her ribs. Violet fletching quivered before her eyes. Her favorite color. A final mockery from the father who'd once called her his "little storm."
Lucien's arms encircled her from behind, holding her upright as her legs failed. "Steady, my queen," he murmured against her ear. "It is the duty of the Queen to die for her King."
Blood bubbled at her lips. Around them, hundreds of faces watched—Xianthosi nobles with their hungry eyes, already feasting on her dying breaths.
He pressed something cold against the wound—not the healing warmth of Ember-Jade, but something darker. A stone she didn't recognize, its surface swirling with shadows.
Not salvation.
Damnation.
The world fractured.
Suddenly she was elsewhere—somewhere else. A vision flashed:
* Herself standing over Lucien's fallen body, a different gem glowing in her palm
* The three sacred stones merging into one terrible light
* A voice whispering through time: "You must choose differently"
The vision shattered as Lucien let her crumple to the stones.
Cold seeped through her gown. The sky wheeled overhead, the same indifferent blue as the day she'd arrived in Xianthos as a bride.
Lucien turned away, but not before she saw it—the tremor in his sword hand, the way his throat worked as if swallowing poison.
A voice slithered from the shadows between heartbeats: "Do you want to live again?"
Magna's fading vision fixed on Lucien's back as he strode toward the archers. Toward her father. Toward the war he'd chosen over her.
Yes, she thought with her last spark of fury. Let me remember your love when I destroy you.
Darkness swallowed her whole.