Chapter Twenty: The Chains of Fate

The battlefield was supposed to be over, and the war was supposed to have taken its toll. But as Seraphina stood in the aftermath, her wound still bleeding and the shadows still writhing around her, she felt something shift—something unnatural. The air turned thick, heavy, and suffocating as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Then, the whispers came.

Soft at first, like the rustling of leaves in the wind. Then louder—words she could almost understand, voices that did not belong to the living. The darkness that had clung to her like a second skin now recoiled, twisting into strange shapes, retreating as if in fear. A presence loomed. Something old. Something terrifying.

Seraphina barely had time to react before the ground beneath her cracked open. From the depths of the earth, tendrils of obsidian mist slithered out, curling around her ankles, her wrists, and her throat. A force stronger than anything she had ever known yanked her backwards. The world tilted, her vision darkened, and then - She was somewhere else.

The battlefield was gone. The smell of blood, the ringing of steel—vanished. In its place was a void, stretching endlessly, blacker than the night sky. And before her, sitting on an unseen throne, was a figure wreathed in shadows. It wasn't human.

Glowing crimson eyes peered at her from the abyss, burning with an ancient, insatiable hunger. The figure's form was indistinct, shifting like smoke, but its presence was suffocating. It was the embodiment of everything the darkness had ever whispered to her.

"You were never meant to wield this power." The voice sent chills down her spine, deep and resonant, spoken in a language she should not have understood—yet somehow, she did.

Seraphina clenched her fists, forcing herself to stand tall despite the terror curling in her gut. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The entity leaned forward, its presence pressing against her mind like an unbearable weight. "I am the beginning. I am the end."

She swallowed hard. "That doesn't answer my question."

A hollow chuckle echoed through the void. "You think you were the first to awaken? That this power was yours to claim? Foolish girl. You are nothing but a vessel. And now, you will pay the price for taking what was never meant to be yours."

The tendrils tightened around her, sending a bolt of agony through her body. She fell to her knees, gasping, her vision flashing white with pain.

"This is the cost of defiance, Seraphina."

Her name on its tongue sounded like a curse. She fought against the restraints, but the more she struggled, the deeper the darkness seeped into her veins. It was consuming her, breaking her apart from the inside.

And then— A voice, faint and distant, calling her name.

Someone was pulling her back. With a final, wrenching gasp, she was yanked from the void. She awoke on the battlefield, lying in the dirt, her body trembling violently. The sky was dark, and the storm was still raging, but something was different.

Someone was standing over her. Not Varian. Not one of her allies. A stranger.

Cloaked in black, his face hidden beneath a hood, but his presence was just as suffocating as the entity in the void. His voice was smooth, and controlled, yet filled with something unsettling.

"You're awake," he murmured. "Good."

Seraphina scrambled to her feet, her instincts screaming at her to run. "Who the hell are you?"

The stranger tilted his head slightly. "Your only way out of this nightmare."

Lightning flashed, illuminating his face for the briefest of moments. And what she saw made her blood run cold. Because she knew him, she had seen his face before— In the book she had been reading before she died. But he wasn't supposed to exist yet. He wasn't supposed to be real. And yet, here he was.

Smirking. Watching. Waiting. And for the first time since she had awoken in this world, Seraphina realized— She wasn't the only one who didn't belong here.

Seraphina's breath came in ragged gasps as the storm raged around her, whipping her cloak violently. The battlefield that had once been filled with the cries of warriors was now eerily silent. The only sound was the distant roll of thunder and the steady heartbeat pounding in her chest. But she didn't have time to focus on the storm. Not when the figure before her—this impossible, familiar stranger—was watching her with an unsettling, knowing smirk.

Her mind raced. It wasn't possible. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to exist yet. And yet, there he was.

Draped in black, his presence exuded a quiet menace. His body was unnaturally still like a predator waiting to strike. The flickering torchlight from the distant fires barely touched him, as if the darkness around him bent to his will.

Seraphina clenched her fists, her body still aching from the tendrils of shadow that had threatened to consume her moments ago. The power inside her was still stirring, still burning beneath her skin like a beast waiting to be unleashed. She could feel it crawling up her spine, whispering, coaxing her to strike first.

The stranger took a step forward, slow, deliberate. His hooded cloak billowed with the wind, but it was the way his eyes—sharp, calculating—glowed faintly beneath the darkness that sent a chill down her spine.

"You seem surprised to see me," he murmured, voice smooth as silk but laced with something sharp, something dangerous.

Seraphina swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "You're not supposed to be here," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest. "You're—" She hesitated. She didn't even know how to explain it.

"A character from your book?" he finished for her.

Her blood ran cold. He knew. The smirk on his lips widened slightly, but there was no amusement in his expression. "You and I have a lot in common, it seems."

Her muscles tensed. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to put as much distance between them as possible. But she stood her ground. "What do you want?" she demanded.

The stranger tilted his head. "That depends," he said. "Do you want the truth, or do you want to keep pretending you have control over this world?"

A sharp gust of wind cut through the silence, sending dust spiralling around them.

Seraphina narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

The stranger took another step forward, this time close enough for her to see the faint scar running along his jaw, the way his eyes—so unnervingly familiar—held something ancient, something unreadable.

"You think you're the only one who woke up in the wrong story?" he whispered.

The words slammed into her like a blow. Her breath hitched.

Impossible.

But before she could say anything, a deafening explosion erupted in the distance, shaking the ground beneath them. Flames roared into the sky, the scent of burning metal filling the air.

The rebellion.

Seraphina barely had time to react before a blade was pressed against her throat. She sucked in a sharp breath, her body freezing as the stranger held the dagger with practised ease. He had moved so fast—too fast for her to react.

"You're running out of time, Seraphina," he murmured. "The world is unravelling. And whether you like it or not, you're at the centre of it."

A drop of blood trickled down her throat from where the blade pressed against her skin.

She glared up at him, fury burning in her veins. "Then tell me why you're here."

For the first time, the stranger's expression darkened.

"Because," he said, voice low, "something far worse than either of us is coming. And if we don't stop it—this world will tear itself apart."

Lightning split the sky, illuminating his face fully for the first time. And Seraphina finally realized who he was. The villain of the story. The true villain. The one who was supposed to die.

Just like her. Her pulse pounded as the truth settled deep into her bones. This wasn't just about her survival anymore. The story had already changed. And she had no idea how it was going to end.