Seren’s body slid off Kaedan’s blade and into Ariaxa’s arms with a weight that felt far too human, far too small, far too tragic. Ariaxa caught her instinctively, ignoring the pain shooting through her wounded shoulder as the dying woman collapsed against her.
Seren’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy, her breath shallow and wet. Blood bubbled at the corner of her mouth.
“A…Ariaxa…” she rasped.
Ariaxa’s throat tightened.
“Seren—stop talking. Stay still. I’m getting help—”
Seren’s fingers curled weakly around Ariaxa’s wrist.
“No… listen.”
Kaedan stood frozen over them, chest heaving, eyes wide with a horror he hadn’t expected to feel. Not for Seren — but for the violence, for the chaos, for what he had become in the name of protecting the woman he loved and refused to admit it.
Seren’s voice cracked, a trembling whisper.
“He never… loved me.”
Ariaxa stiffened, her breath catching.
Seren coughed hard, blood staining Ariaxa’s chest.
“But he… loves you.”
Ariaxa shook her head fiercely. “No—Seren, that’s not—”
“You really don’t see it…” Seren breathed, voice fading. “He would burn realms… for you.”
Ariaxa’s heart hammered painfully against her ribs.
Seren’s gaze unfocused, drifting to the chamber’s moonlit ceiling.
Her hand slackened on Ariaxa’s wrist.
But she forced one last whisper past bloodied lips.
“The… Triarchs…”
Her breath hitched.
“They will come… for you both…”
Ariaxa bent closer. “Seren—Seren, stay with me, please—”
But Seren’s eyes emptied.
Her body went still.
Her fingers slipped from Ariaxa’s wrist and fell limply to the floor.
Ariaxa trembled violently, her wounded shoulder burning, her mind cracking under the weight of death and prophecy and betrayal.
Kaedan sank to his knees beside them.
Not mourning Seren —
but mourning the collapse of everything surrounding her.
“I failed,” he whispered, voice ragged. “I failed to control my own court. I failed to stop the Triarchs’ manipulation. I failed to keep this palace from tearing itself apart.”
Ariaxa reached for him, her hand bloody and shaking.
“You didn’t fail.”
He looked at her — wounded, feral, desperate.
She continued, “You protected who you could. And Seren…”
Her voice softened.
“She chose her ending.”
Kaedan’s breath caught.
He slid his arms beneath Ariaxa, gathering her with a tenderness that contrasted the carnage around them. She gasped softly as her shoulder throbbed, but she didn’t resist.
He lifted her.
Held her.
Cradled her to his chest as though she were the last fragile thing in a shattering world.
Outside the Moon Chamber, guards and nobles froze as the Emperor appeared — carrying Ariaxa, her blood soaking into his cloak, her head resting against his shoulder. Behind them, Seren’s lifeless body lay in silence.
Whispers rippled through the palace like falling dominoes.
“He’s carrying her.”
“By the gods—he’s carrying her.”
“She’s bleeding—was she attacked?”
“No one has ever touched the Emperor like that.”
“That girl… she’s changed everything.”
But Kaedan didn’t hear a single voice.
His focus was entirely on Ariaxa — the rise and fall of her breath, the crimson stain spreading across her dress, the tremble in her fingers.
He carried her straight to his own chambers — the only place he considered safe — and laid her gently upon the silk-draped bed. His hands hovered above her wound before he touched her, afraid of hurting her more, afraid of what almost happened, afraid of how close he came to losing her.
“Ariaxa…” he whispered. “Look at me. Stay with me.”
She tried to smile.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
A sharp knock rattled the door.
Kaedan growled, “Not now.”
“Forgive me, Emperor,” a guard called from the hall, voice quivering, “but this was delivered… sealed with Triarch sigils.”
Ariaxa’s blood went cold.
Kaedan’s eyes narrowed. “Bring it.”
A scroll was handed through the doorway — black ribbon, molten gold wax stamped with the Triarch emblems. Kaedan tore the seal with one flick of his thumb.
Ariaxa watched his eyes scan the page.
Watched the muscles in his jaw lock.
Watched his fingers curl around the parchment until it creased.
“What is it?” she whispered.
Kaedan inhaled once — a sharp, lethal breath.
“They’re done sending assassins,” he said.
Ariaxa’s pulse spiked. “What do you mean… done?”
Kaedan lifted his gaze.
And spoke the final words written on the scroll.
“Prepare for war.”