---
That night, the palace did not sleep.
Physicians and mages came and went from Seris's chamber like shadows. The child lay curled in a cocoon of starlight and dark silk, her breathing steady now, but her aura still... strange. Too quiet. Too still.
Elara sat at her daughter's bedside, fingers threading through her damp hair, singing softly — a lullaby from Earth. One Seris had always loved.
Kael stood near the window, cloaked in silence. His hands gripped the stone windowsill until his knuckles bled.
"She heard a voice," he said at last. "And she fell into a vision. That wasn't a spell. That was a calling."
"She's too young," Elara whispered.
"So was I," Kael said darkly, "when the shadows started speaking to me."
---
Elsewhere in the palace, Lysander wandered through the Hall of Mirrors.
He walked past the portraits of kings and queens, eyes painted with divine pride. But they did not comfort him. Not tonight.
He could still see Seris on the platform — glowing, untouchable, her magic swallowing the very light.
And the way the crowd had gasped. Not for him. For her.
The heir. The child of prophecy. The one with blood too wild to be understood.
His fists clenched at his sides.
He loved his sister.
He did.
But he was beginning to wonder if the kingdom would love her more.
---
Seris woke before dawn.
Not with fear.
With calm.
She sat up in bed and whispered, "He's not here yet. But he's close."
Elara stirred from her chair. "Who, my love?"
"The one with no shadow."
Kael was instantly at her side. "What do you mean?"
Seris looked up at him — eyes clear, too wise for six years. "There's a man in the dark. He doesn't have a name. But he was made when Auren died. When the balance broke."
Elara gasped.
Kael's entire body went still.
"Where did you see him?"
"In the Gate," Seris said simply. "The one between worlds. He wants to open it. He wants me to open it."
"Never," Kael said, his voice iron.
Seris smiled faintly.
"I don't think he cares what you want."
---
For the next week, the kingdom spun on the edge of unease.
Seris remained quiet, strangely composed. She didn't speak of the vision again. But her magic pulsed in unpredictable ways. Flowers bloomed from her footsteps. Glass windows cracked when she cried.
And Lysander, once always at her side, began to pull away.
He trained longer with his tutors. Pushed himself to master Light magic faster than ever before.
Kael watched the shift with troubled eyes. Elara tried to soothe both children, but even she could feel it —
A fracture.
A rift not of hatred, but of fear.
---
One evening, Kael entered the observatory to find Elara alone, staring up at the stars.
"I remember when he brought me here the first time," she said quietly. "Auren. He told me the stars would always belong to us."
Kael didn't answer. He wrapped his arms around her from behind.
Her head leaned against his chest. "Do you ever wonder if we were wrong? Bringing me here. Letting them be born into this legacy."
"I wonder every day," Kael said. "But then I see her smile. Or him spar with his sword like a little lion. And I remember... love is the only thing we did right."
Elara turned in his arms, pressing her lips to his.
It was not the kiss of fever or desire. It was something older.
A vow. A quiet promise in the face of growing dark.
---
That night, in her dreams, Seris stood before the Gate once more.
Only this time, someone waited on the other side.
Not a man. Not quite.
A figure of smoke and void, crowned in bone, with eyes like mirrors — showing her visions of herself, of Lysander, of Kael falling to his knees.
"You will come," the figure said. "When the stars fall. When your brother bleeds. You will choose."
And then the Gate cracked.
---