Chapter 10: The Ties That Bind

The tension in the air was palpable as Ava walked back through the palace halls, her mind reeling from the encounter with the woman who claimed to be Lysandra's true heir. The weight of the conversation hung heavy on her shoulders, and every step she took seemed to reverberate with the uncertainty of the truth she had just learned. Her world had been shaken, and she couldn't escape the feeling that she was standing on the edge of a precipice.

Cassius was waiting for her in her chambers when she returned, his posture rigid as he stood by the window, his gaze distant. The moonlight cast shadows across his face, but Ava could still see the concern etched into his features. He didn't need to ask how the meeting had gone he could see the storm swirling within her eyes.

"Ava," he said softly, his voice like a lifeline in the storm of her thoughts. "What happened? Did she tell you the truth?"

Ava stood still in the doorway for a moment, her heart heavy with the weight of the revelation. She had wanted answers, but the truth had only made things more complicated.

"She says she's Lysandra's true daughter," Ava said, her voice low and strained. "She claims I'm not the heir. That the throne is hers by blood."

Cassius's jaw tightened, and he turned to face her. There was a fierce intensity in his gaze, a determination that Ava recognized all too well. "Ava, we've already been through this. You are the true heir. The prophecy was never about bloodlines. It's about you. Your strength, your heart, your destiny."

Ava shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "But what if she's right? What if I've been living a lie? The prophecy it never said anything about a sister. What if I'm just a replacement?"

Cassius stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently lift her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You are not a replacement, Ava. You are the one who was chosen. You are the queen. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Ava's chest tightened as she searched his face for any sign of doubt, but there was none. Cassius believed in her. He always had. Yet the words of the woman, of the one who called herself Lysandra's true heir, echoed in her mind like a haunting melody. Could she really trust in her destiny, or was she merely playing a part in a story someone else had written?

"I don't know what to believe anymore," Ava whispered, her voice barely audible. "This feels like a battle I wasn't prepared for. I thought I knew who I was, but now everything is… fractured."

Cassius's hand lingered on her chin, his touch warm and comforting. "I know it's hard. I know it's terrifying. But you're not alone in this, Ava. We'll face whatever comes together. You don't have to do this on your own."

Ava closed her eyes, leaning into his touch for just a moment, letting the comfort of his presence wash over her. Despite the uncertainty, despite the fear that gripped her, she knew deep down that Cassius was right. She wasn't alone. She had allies. She had the Lycans who believed in her. And she had him.

"I won't let her take everything from me," Ava said, her voice gaining strength. "If she thinks she can tear this kingdom apart, she's in for a fight."

Cassius smiled, his eyes filled with pride. "That's the spirit."

---

The next few days passed in a blur of preparations for the inevitable confrontation. Ava's mind raced with thoughts of the woman—her sister, the self-proclaimed true heir. Every encounter with Cassius, with her advisers, with the soldiers, felt like a step closer to the battle she had to fight—not just for the throne, but for her own identity.

She had seen the power that woman wielded, the confidence with which she had spoken. But Ava knew she couldn't let herself be intimidated. She couldn't let the lies of one person dictate the course of her destiny. The stakes were higher now, and Ava couldn't afford to waver.

She was more than just the blood that ran through her veins. She was the queen. She was the prophecy.

Cassius had been instrumental in guiding her, but as the days passed, she found herself relying on him less and less for reassurance. She had to become the queen her people needed—strong, unwavering, and fierce.

Ava spent hours in the war room, strategizing with her generals, working out every detail of the battle to come. The sound of boots marching, of swords being sharpened, of warriors preparing for war filled the air. The energy in the palace had shifted; it was no longer a place of refuge. It had become a battlefield, both in the physical sense and the spiritual one. Ava was preparing for an internal war as much as an external one.

She spent one evening alone in the royal library, her fingers tracing the spines of ancient tomes, her thoughts a tangled mess of prophecy, bloodlines, and power. She needed to know more about her ancestor, Lysandra. She needed to understand what had happened to her and how it had shaped the kingdom's history. Every shred of knowledge could hold the key to unlocking the truth.

As she flipped through the pages of a particularly old book, her eyes caught a mention of the Nightborne bloodline—a line of royalty that had been erased from history after Lysandra's death. The text spoke of the prophecy, of how it had been twisted over the years to serve the interests of those in power. The story of Lysandra's death was shrouded in mystery, but the remnants of her reign hinted at a darker truth.

"Queen Lysandra's reign was marked by a time of great prosperity," she read aloud, her voice quiet in the vast library. "But after her death, the throne was seized by those who feared her power. The royal line was destroyed, and the true heir was hidden, kept from the public eye for their safety. The prophecy was altered, made to fit the needs of those who sought to control the kingdom."

Ava's heart pounded in her chest. The more she read, the more the pieces began to fit together. Lysandra had been a powerful ruler, and her death had not been a simple one. It had been part of a greater scheme—a plot to destroy the royal bloodline, to erase the truth.

But why? Who had orchestrated this? And why had the prophecy been changed?

The answer lay somewhere in the pages of history, in the shadows that no one had dared to speak of. Ava's hand clenched around the book as a single realization struck her like lightning.

The prophecy wasn't just about who was born first. It was about who could claim the throne by right, by strength, and by will.

Ava had been chosen because she was the one who could change everything. She wasn't just the heir by blood—she was the heir by destiny.

She slammed the book shut, a new resolve igniting within her. It didn't matter who this woman was or what claims she made. Ava would not let her take the throne.

She would fight.

And she would win.