Aurelia stood alone in the courtyard, her bare feet pressed against the cold stone. The sky above was painted with stars, scattered like shattered glass across a canvas of ink. The night was still, but not silent. She could hear everything—the shifting of distant leaves, the flutter of wings overhead, the faint heartbeat of life pulsing in the soil beneath her.
She closed her eyes and let herself sink into the quiet.
Magic throbbed in her veins, no longer restrained, no longer muted by the iron clasp of the collar that had once kept her leashed. It responded to her now—slow, coiling, powerful. She drew in a breath and let it rise.
Her skin prickled as it gathered in her chest, humming like a storm just below the surface.
A low growl escaped her throat—not from pain, not from rage, but from focus. The edges of her senses sharpened. She could feel the moonlight on her skin, feel the tension in the wind, the small movements of life across the kingdom. Everything around her felt heightened, as if the world itself had opened its eyes and was watching her.
Her eyes flicked open. The green in her irises burned faintly, a ghost of the magic inside her made visible.
"I don't need him," she whispered to the empty air. "I don't need anyone."
But her voice held no triumph. It wasn't victory she tasted—it was loneliness. The magic was hers now. Truly. She could feel it dancing beneath her fingertips, waiting to be shaped. But the freedom came with a cost. She couldn't shake the memory: Kaelen had unleashed this, but only after caging her. Her strength had never been a gift. It had always been a threat. And now, she carried it alone.
Across the courtyard, hidden in shadow, Kaelen watched her.
His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on the woman she had become.
She was… breathtaking. And terrifying.
Her power bloomed around her like firelight, and yet, it was the look in her eyes that haunted him—determined, unrelenting, untouchable. He had seen her angry before. He had seen her wounded. But now she was something else entirely.
She was becoming more.
"She's getting too strong," he muttered under his breath, though there was no one to hear it. "Too strong, too fast."
His fists clenched. It wasn't just fear driving the words. It was loss. The bond they once shared—the strange pull between them—had frayed, thread by thread. And now, it was barely holding.
If he lost her completely, he didn't know what he'd become.
But part of him feared something worse: what she might become without him.
Later that evening, the tension that had been building for days finally cracked.
Aurelia stood in the moonlit garden, her back to the path. Her fingers grazed a rose petal absently, as if she were somewhere else entirely.
Kaelen approached, his footsteps slow, deliberate. He didn't wear his usual mask of command—his voice was lower, tentative.
"Aurelia," he said. "We need to talk."
She didn't turn. "We've already said too much."
"I mean it," he said, a little closer now. "I need you to hear me."
She exhaled, the sound sharp. "Funny. Now you care what I hear."
Kaelen winced. "That's not fair."
"No?" She finally turned to face him. Her expression was unreadable, eyes cool and unreadable beneath the moonlight. "You locked me in a room. You put a collar on me. You called it protection."
"I was trying to keep you safe."
"You were trying to keep me quiet," she snapped. "There's a difference."
Kaelen stepped forward, reaching out—but she flinched, stepping back instantly. Her body tensed like a blade ready to be drawn.
"Don't touch me."
His hand fell to his side. "You're right," he said quietly. "You're right to be angry. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I want you to know… I didn't do it out of malice."
She stared at him. "Then what? Fear? Control? Loyalty to your throne?"
He hesitated. "I didn't know who you were. What you were becoming. I panicked."
"And so you caged me?" Her voice cracked slightly. "Because you couldn't understand me?"
Kaelen's voice rose, unsteady. "I didn't know how else to protect you."
She laughed, bitter and low. "You didn't want to protect me. You wanted to own me."
He flinched.
"I trusted you," she continued, voice tightening. "I believed you saw me—not just what I could do. But you didn't. You saw a threat. A weapon."
His shoulders slumped. "I see you now."
"No," she said, stepping away. "You see the power. You're just afraid you can't control it anymore."
Kaelen looked down, shame sinking into his chest like a stone.
"I never wanted this," he said. "I never wanted to be your enemy."
She turned again, done with the conversation. "Then maybe you should've thought of that before you made yourself one."
As she walked away, something caught her eye—barely visible beneath one of the flower pots lining the path.
A scrap of parchment. Folded. Worn.
Curious, she knelt and retrieved it. The edges were torn, the ink smeared in places, but the words were still legible.
To use her power… against Kaelen.
Her breath hitched. She read further, scanning the lines.
We can control her together. With her power, we can take everything. Kaelen will fall.
Her hands trembled. Her name was there—her fate, dissected like a tactic in a war room. But more than that, another name was scrawled at the bottom.
Renna.
The paper slipped from her fingers.
She stood frozen, the betrayal crashing down over her like ice water. Renna had come to her offering guidance. An alliance. The truth. But this—this was something else entirely.
"You lied to me," she whispered. "All along."
It wasn't about Kaelen anymore. It wasn't even about the collar.
They had all used her.
Kaelen. Renna. Maybe even others. She had been a game piece on someone else's board since the beginning, and only now was she seeing the shape of it.
But there was still one question burning in her chest:
Who else knew?
Back in the castle, Kaelen stood by the window in his chambers, staring out over the quiet courtyard. The glass was cold against his fingertips. He had seen Aurelia walk away from him more than once, but this time felt final. Irreversible.
She was slipping through his fingers, and he didn't know how to stop it.
For a long time, he'd told himself it was about control. About keeping her power contained, keeping the realm safe.
But now… now he wasn't sure if it had ever been about power.
It had been about her.
And he might have just lost her for good.