The Temple of Binding groaned as ancient runes awakened.
The air grew heavy — thick with cold magic, thick with memory, thick with dread.
Ariaxa’s chains tightened.
The shadow-thorns burrowed deeper into her wrists and ankles, slicing into flesh, forcing her onto her knees. The gag bit into her jaw. Her vision pulsed in and out of focus.
Rhaelle raised her hand.
“Begin.”
The ground responded.
The runes carved into the marble floor ignited one by one — deep red, sickly violet, and blinding silver. Ariaxa saw her own blood dripping into the grooves, pulled along the runes as if the temple itself were drinking her.
Her breath faltered.
Then the pain hit.
Shadow-magic surged into her veins like molten ice, devouring every spark of sunlight inside her. Her spine arched helplessly as the thorns tightened, stealing her breath.
A muffled scream tore from her throat.
Vaelen stood over her, voice cool and sharp as glass.
“You know how this works, Princess. The more you resist, the more it burns.”
Ariaxa glared — even through agony.
Vaelen crouched, tilting her chin up with two cold fingers.
“Tell me his weaknesses. His fears. His limits.”
Ariaxa spat blood into his face.
It splattered across his cheek and dripped down his jaw.
Vaelen froze.
Rhaelle inhaled sharply.
Brakus giggled.
“Oh… she’s a fighter,” he growled, stepping closer.
Vaelen wiped the blood from his cheek, expression never changing.
“You just shortened your life by minutes.”
Brakus didn’t wait for permission.
He transformed — partially — bones twisting, claws sprouting, fangs lengthening as shadow-beast magic tore through him. His breath came out in hot, fetid huffs.
He slammed a clawed hand into Ariaxa’s thigh.
The wound ripped open instantly, hot blood spilling over the marble.
Ariaxa’s scream echoed into the stone.
Brakus inhaled sharply, shuddering with pleasure.
“Ooooh… sunlight blood. Sweet. Fiery. Rare.”
Rhaelle folded her arms.
“Do not kill her yet.”
Vaelen leaned close again.
“Tell me how to break the Emperor.”
Ariaxa’s vision spun.
Her limbs trembled.
Her heart fluttered painfully.
The gag muffled her breathing.
And still, she refused to give them anything.
Anything but—
Kaedan.
Kaedan, Kaedan, Kaedan.
She shut her eyes.
She dug through the agony.
Through the fire.
Through the blood.
And whispered his name in her mind.
Kaedan… please… hear me…
The bond pulsed.
Faintly at first.
Then harder.
Then so violently the chains rattled.
Brakus froze.
Rhaelle stiffened.
Vaelen turned his head sharply.
“Did you hear that?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
Ariaxa smiled behind the gag — bloody, pained, defiant.
Because she felt him.
She felt his rage.
A storm of it.
A hurricane ripping trees from the ground, cracking stone, turning mountains to rubble.
She felt his pain.
His wounded body dragging itself forward.
His hands tearing through rock and vines.
His feet pounding so hard the earth trembled beneath him.
She felt his desperation.
His soul clawing desperately for hers.
His breath uneven.
His heart breaking.
She felt his love.
Burning through the bond like wildfire, consuming everything in its path.
And—
She felt his location.
Close.
Too close.
Terrifyingly close.
So close that her chains vibrated.
So close that dust fell from the cracked ceiling.
So close that Brakus whimpered, backing away from her.
Vaelen’s eyes widened.
Rhaelle hissed, “He’s nearly here.”
Ariaxa’s tears spilled onto the stone.
Not from pain.
From relief.
From hope.
From the knowledge that nothing — not war, not death, not gods, not the Triarchs — could stop him.
Because in her chest, through the bond, she heard him:
Ariaxa… I’m coming…