The Broken World

The skies had never been this quiet.

We stood at the ridge overlooking what remained of the Southern Valley—once a lush, thriving kingdom of magic and life.

Now?

Ash.

Blackened trees. Withered crops. A single river twisted like a dying vein through the charred fields.

It wasn't a battlefield.

It was a message.

One scrawled across the land by chaos.

"Was this us?" I asked, though I already knew.

Virelya didn't answer right away. The wind caught her cloak and hair, but she didn't move.

Only her voice, quiet. "The bond is spreading."

The truth tasted bitter.

We had sealed the Heart. Broken the prophecy.

But something inside her—inside us—was still bleeding into the world.

---

We didn't mean to come back.

The capital had exiled us. Hunted us. Branded us traitors.

But the world had shifted.

What used to be a single curse tied between two people was now alive. A force that clung to weather, earth, time itself. The bond between us didn't just pulse with emotion anymore—it fed on it.

Every time we touched, we healed.

Every time we kissed, the world cracked.

And yet... I kept touching her.

---

We traveled in silence.

Three cities lay in ruins by the time we passed them—none by our hands, but all blaming us.

Wanted posters plastered crumbling walls. Some showed us as demons. Others depicted Virelya with blood running from her eyes, holding my heart in her hands.

A child threw a stone at us in one town. It passed through Virelya's shield. The second one didn't.

We didn't hurt him.

We didn't stay, either.

Because the people weren't scared of Virelya anymore.

They were scared of what we meant.

---

By the time we reached the outer districts of the kingdom, we were no longer hiding.

There was no point.

The air shifted wherever we walked. Spells warped. Clouds froze overhead. Magic itself bent away from us like it recognized a higher predator.

"Are we becoming what they feared?" I asked one night, when she rested beside me under a broken tree.

Her eyes flicked open. "No."

"You sure?"

"Yes," she said, quieter. "Because I still feel guilty."

I reached out. Brushed a leaf from her hair.

"You're the most dangerous person in the world, Virelya," I said. "But you still flinch when someone cries."

Her laugh cracked and caught. "What does that say about me?"

"That you're not the villain."

---

We crossed the border into the capital's territory three days later.

And walked straight into a war zone.

The royal army no longer wore royal crests. The emblems had been changed. Black with silver flame. A new banner flew over the citadel.

And standing at its gates was a man who looked like prophecy incarnate.

Tall. Ice-pale hair. Eyes the color of dying fire. Armor cut from godsteel, pulsing with enchantments I didn't recognize.

He watched us approach with the calm of someone who expected this moment his entire life.

"You should have died in the cavern," he said. "The world was counting on it."

Virelya stepped forward. "And who are you to speak for the world?"

"I am the one it sent," he said simply. "To finish what fate could not."

---

They called him the White Regent.

The royal bloodline's last survivor. Crowned in the king's absence. A man born with no known magic—until the curse broke.

Now?

He wielded anti-magic.

A force that didn't burn or explode.

It erased.

Everything.

---

We were arrested. Not violently. Not publicly.

They let us walk into the city—then surrounded us quietly in the square. Too many swords. Too many seals. Virelya could've burned them all, but I held her back.

And she let me.

Because this time, we weren't running.

This time, we wanted to see what they would do.

---

They held us in a tower made of mirrored glass, designed to suppress magic.

We spent two days there.

Guards brought food without eye contact.

No one spoke to us.

Except him.

The White Regent.

He visited on the third night.

Alone.

He didn't sit. Didn't raise his voice. He simply placed a scroll on the table between us.

"Sign this," he said, "and I will let you live."

I glanced at Virelya. Her jaw was tight, but she didn't move.

"What's the cost?" I asked.

"Public denouncement," he replied. "You declare yourselves cursed. Step down. Surrender the child."

My heart stopped.

"What child?"

His gaze shifted to Virelya.

She didn't blink.

"You're not showing yet," he said calmly. "But the magic around you has changed. The blood doesn't lie."

Virelya said nothing.

She didn't have to.

Because I already knew.

I just hadn't dared believe it.

---

He left us in silence.

And I turned to her.

"You knew?"

She exhaled. "I suspected."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you already had too much to carry," she whispered. "And I needed to be sure. I still do."

My chest felt too small for my heartbeat.

I crossed the space between us and knelt in front of her.

"You are my curse," I said quietly. "You are my war. My salvation. My ruin. And now you are carrying my hope."

Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

I kissed her forehead.

"I won't let them take anything else from us."

---

That night, we planned our escape.

Because the kingdom wasn't offering peace.

It was offering chains.

Wrapped in politics. Dressed in mercy.

But they had forgotten what we were now.

Not cursed lovers.

Not doomed souls.

Survivors.

And no kingdom built on fear would ever own us again.