Chapter 7 – The Weight of Secrets

The air outside the Valcrest estate was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and the distant smoke of burning lanterns. Seraphina's steps were slow as she moved through the stone pathways winding through the gardens, her mind tangled in the events of the evening.

Kael's words haunted her.

*"Something ancient. Something tied to what we were."*

The weight of it pressed against her chest, heavy and suffocating. She had spent her entire life grounded in reality, in logic, in justice. But the world was shifting beneath her feet, warping into something that defied reason.

She barely noticed the rustling of leaves until a presence stirred behind her.

"You're reckless."

Seraphina turned, her pulse steadying only slightly when she saw Lysian emerging from the shadows of the hedge-lined pathway. His silver eyes, so familiar and yet unreadable, glowed faintly under the moonlight.

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her forehead. "I wasn't in the mood for a lecture, Lysian."

His lips quirked upward, though there was no amusement in it. "And yet, you always seem to need one."

Seraphina frowned but didn't respond. She had known Lysian long enough to recognize the underlying tension in his posture. He wasn't just here to reprimand her. He was worried.

"You disappeared," he continued, stepping closer. "I turned for one second, and you were gone. And then I saw *him* follow you."

Her expression tightened. "Kael isn't—"

"Kael is dangerous."

Lysian's voice was sharp, cutting through the night air. His usual composed demeanor cracked, revealing something deeper, something bordering on desperation.

Seraphina studied him. "You know something."

His jaw tensed.

She took a step closer. "Lysian."

He hesitated. For a moment, she thought he would deflect, as he always did when she pressed too hard. But then—

"I saw it."

Her breath caught. "Saw *what*?"

His eyes darkened, haunted. "The magic. The same magic from before."

Seraphina felt her heart hammering against her ribs.

Before?

Lysian wasn't just talking about what happened tonight.

"What are you saying?" she whispered.

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, finally—

"I remember."

Two words. Simple. Devastating.

Seraphina felt the ground tilt beneath her.

"What?"

Lysian inhaled sharply, as if forcing himself to keep speaking. "Not everything. But… pieces. Flashes of something I *shouldn't* know." His fingers curled into fists at his sides. "Visions of a war. A temple bathed in moonlight. Blood on the stones."

Seraphina's pulse roared in her ears.

The temple. The moonlight. The blood.

She *knew* that vision. It wasn't just his.

It was *hers*.

Her chest tightened. "Lysian… are you saying you *were there*?"

His gaze searched hers. "I don't know."

Her throat dried.

But she *did* know.

The memories she had dismissed as nightmares, the strange connection she felt to him and Kael, the way her soul seemed to *recognize* them even when her mind refused to—

It all made sense.

Lysian took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Seraphina, something is happening to us. To you. And Kael—" His expression darkened. "He's in the center of it."

Seraphina swallowed, forcing her voice to remain steady. "And what if I'm in the center of it too?"

His jaw clenched. "Then I'll protect you."

There was no hesitation in his words. No doubt.

And yet, a chill ran down Seraphina's spine.

Because deep down, she knew—

She didn't need protection from Kael.

She needed protection from the past.

And the past was already catching up.

---

**Elsewhere in the City**

Kael sat in the dimly lit study of his estate, the golden embers of the fireplace casting flickering shadows against the walls. A glass of dark liquor rested untouched in his hand.

He barely noticed it.

His thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in memories that weren't entirely his.

Tonight had been a mistake.

He hadn't meant to lose control. Hadn't meant to *awaken* something in front of so many eyes.

But seeing Seraphina, feeling the pull between them—it had shaken something loose inside him.

Pieces of a life long buried.

A temple bathed in silver light. A woman standing before him, power radiating from her like wildfire. A blade. A choice.

A curse.

Kael exhaled sharply, setting the glass down.

He had spent years trying to outrun this. Trying to ignore the whispers in his mind, the echoes of a past he couldn't change.

But Seraphina was proof that the past wasn't done with him.

And neither was fate.

A knock at the door broke his thoughts.

He didn't turn as it creaked open.

"You were careless tonight."

Kael's grip tightened around the armrest of his chair. "Is that your way of saying *hello*, Mother?"

Selene Maeroth stepped into the room, her elegant silhouette framed by the flickering light. Her silver hair cascaded over her dark robes, and her piercing gaze settled on him with quiet calculation.

"I told you to be careful," she said, closing the door behind her. "You're drawing attention."

Kael scoffed. "Attention was always inevitable."

Selene's expression remained unreadable. "Do you even understand what's happening?"

Kael's jaw tensed. "I understand more than you think."

She stepped closer, her gaze sharpening. "Then you know the truth, don't you? About *her*."

His muscles coiled.

Selene's voice softened, almost pitying. "She's remembering, Kael. And once she does…"

He exhaled through his nose. "She's not ready."

Selene studied him for a long moment. Then, with something almost like amusement, she murmured, "Neither are you."

Kael said nothing.

Because deep down, he knew she was right.

---

**Seraphina's Room – Later That Night**

Sleep did not come easily.

Seraphina lay awake, staring at the ceiling of her chambers, thoughts tangled in a web of uncertainty.

She should have been afraid.

But she wasn't.

She was *angry*.

Angry that people were keeping secrets from her. Angry that the world she had built for herself was crumbling at her feet. Angry that, despite everything, she couldn't shake the pull toward Kael Draven—the man she had every reason to despise.

The man she was beginning to *remember*.

With a frustrated sigh, she sat up. The room was dark, the only illumination coming from the dying embers in the fireplace.

Then—

A whisper.

Soft. Faint.

Not *in* the room.

*Inside her mind.*

Her pulse quickened.

The whisper grew louder, shaping into something almost familiar.

A name.

*"Aelthara."*

Seraphina's breath caught.

The room suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier.

And deep in her chest, something *stirred*.

Something ancient.

Something *waking up*.

She clutched the blankets, her heartbeat thundering.

She wasn't ready.

But it didn't matter anymore.

Because ready or not—

The past was coming for her.