Shadow’s Reckoning

Chapter 54: Shadow's Reckoning

Celestine's breathing was ragged as she moved deeper into the ruins. The atmosphere was heavy, near-choking, with an energy that lashed at her skin. The memory of the fight earlier hung on her muscles—hurtful, but not quite to the point where she would stop.

Behind her, Draven and Lucien led her in lockstep, their senses razor-sharp as they surveilled the blackened temple hallways. What had happened when they fought against Valerius in the last village had given them its scar, and here they were advancing straight into his domain.

"This is a trap," Draven muttered, low.

"Sure it is," Lucien shot back. "But we do not have another option."

Celestine did not say a word. She had known danger beforehand, but now it was too late. The prophecy had led her this far, and within her, something in her blood was saying—here, it would all start.

The walls trembled slightly, the shaking deep in the ground. And then, for no reason at all, torches along the corridor flared to life—one at a time—casting eerie, dancing shadows that were almost alive.

Celestine stood frozen on the path.

"He's near," she whispered.

A laugh echoed across the room. A voice that had humor in it, but was flavored with an implaceable mastery of the darkness.

"Took you long enough."

At the far end of the temple corridor, the shadows raged, twisting into a shape that assumed a solid one in the one person she had been unwilling to see again.

Valerius.

His golden eyes flamed with unnatural intensity, lips curled into a sneer-smirk.

"You've been running, Celestine. But fate always brings you back to me."

Her fingers curled at her sides, nails digging into her palms for equilibrium.

"I wasn't running," she managed. "I was preparing."

Valerius shifted his head a fraction, as if considering her words. Then, without warning—

The shadows burst forward.

Lucien drew first, his sword cutting into the shadows, but Valerius didn't flinch. With a flick of his wrist, dark mist tendrils wrapped around Lucien's arm, curling with tearing pressure. Draven was already concentrating his magic, but before he could release it—

Valerius stood in front of her.

Too fast. Too close.

Celestine gasped as his fingers sketched against her temple, and then—

Agony.

A searing, unbearable power crashed into the back of her head. Imagery exploded at the rear of her eyes—snatches of memory that belonged to someone else. She perceived fire. Blood. A broken crown reduced to powder.

And then, at the blackest point in the blackness—

A voice.

"Accept your fate."

Celestine screamed through the chamber.

And then—nothing.

Chapter 55: Whispers from the Past

Pain. Cold. Dark.

Celestine's mind spun in an eternity of darkness, whispers of ancient voices on all sides of her. She tried to shift, but it was as if invisible bonds wrapped around her arms, pinning her there. Her heart pounded, her breath in short, stuttering bursts, but no breath entered her lungs.

And then, a glimmer of light. A vision.

She gazed upon herself—standing atop a broken throne, blood accumulating at her feet on the marble. Iron permeated the air, a suffocating presence. The world was surrounding her, broken. Temple walls had collapsed, jagged pieces left in their wake. Shadows seeped across the ground, pooling at her feet like dark fluid.

Lucien and Draven were still at her sides, swords shattered, bodies broken. The sky above was torn in half, darkened by a looming red glow.

"You see it now, don't you?"

The voice sent shivers down her spine. Deep, rich, and very dangerous-sounding.

Valerius.

His figure stepped out of the shadows, golden eyes burning with something unrecognizable. He stepped closer, his presence suffocating, and reached out to her with one hand.

"This is what awaits you, Celestine. Regardless of how much you fight it—this is your fate."

Celestine gritted her teeth, trying to suppress the shiver in her fingers. "You're lying."

Valerius let out a low chuckle. "Am I?" His eyes twinkled with amusement. "You sensed it, didn't you? The energy within you, the pull toward something greater."

The shadows wrapped up around her ankles, tugging, beckoning her forward. For one revolting moment, something deep inside of her yearned to step into their reach—to envelope the darkness around herself, to allow it to consume her wholly.

"You were never meant to be their redemption, Celestine," Valerius leaned in close, his voice rich with temptation. "You were meant to be mine."

Her spine crawled with a chill as the vision shifted once more.

This time, she stood at his side—crowned in darkness, her eyes burning the same molten gold as his. She stood at his side, regal and unapproachable, power radiating from her very being. The world knelt before them, trembling in submission.

Lucien and Draven were nowhere to be seen.

She gasped, stumbling back.

"No!"

A shock of energy ran through her body, and the vision shattered like glass.

Celestine's eyes flew open.

She lay again in the ruins of the temple, her frame shuddering against the hard stone floor. Her chest moved in huge, ragged gasps, her entire frame damp with sweat. 

Lucien knelt beside her, his silver eyes full of odd worry. 

"Celestine, gaze at me." His voice was calm, keeping her grounded.

She tried to focus on him, on the heat of his palms against her cheeks. The rigid, solid sense of him. Not the shadow. Not the scratching at the edges of her mind.

Draven stood several paces back, his own magic still humming at his fingers as he gazed around. His usual serene was tight with tension.

"He's gone," Draven declared, but the words were not conviction.

Celestine pushed a hand over her forehead, gasping for air. "No. He's not."

Because she could still feel him.

Somewhere out there in the shadows, waiting. Watching.

And worse—a part of her had almost bought into it.

The worst part wasn't the vision.

The worst part was how badly it had appealed to her.