Chapter Nineteen: The Broken Thread.

The world was still. Silent. Empty.

Jayden's breath was shallow as she opened her eyes slowly, her body cradled in strong arms—but they weren't Azrael's.

It was Mammoth.

"Welcome back, little mouse," he murmured, his voice like silk soaked in poison.

She tensed, struggling to push him away, but her limbs felt drained, her soul too heavy. "What… where am I?"

"A realm between realms," he said with a crooked smile. "You made your choice. You chose the truth. You chose me."

"I didn't—"

"Oh, but you did," he whispered, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. "You told him you wished you never met him. That was your heart screaming for freedom."

Jayden's breath caught as his fingers tightened around her waist. "I didn't mean—"

"But you did," he cut in sharply, his eyes gleaming. "And now you belong to me. Body, mind, and soul. In return for the memories you lost."

His lips crashed onto hers, fierce and cold. Tears slipped from Jayden's closed eyes—not from pain, but from absence. There were no sparks. No fire. No heat. Only emptiness.

She didn't push him away immediately—she didn't have the strength. But when she finally did, it was with trembling fingers and a shaken heart.

Mammoth only smiled. "You'll get used to it, my Queen."

With a flick of his wrist, the shadows consumed them both.

Deep within the Underworld, Azrael stood before a river of silver light and shadows, where spirits came to forget and be forgotten. The River of Severance, they called it. Its waters could erase all memory.

He stood motionless at its edge, holding the dull ruby pendant in his hand. Jayden's necklace.

"I swore I'd protect you," he whispered, voice thick with emotion. "I thought... if I stayed close enough, you'd be safe. That you'd choose me."

He looked down at the water. Its surface shimmered, whispering to him. A tempting promise.

"If I let you forget me... maybe then, you'll be happy."

He clutched the pendant tighter, the chain digging into his palm. Then, with a deep breath, he threw it into the river. The ruby sank beneath the surface—but instead of vanishing, it began to glow. A soft, defiant pulse.

Azrael stared at it for a long moment before turning away.

"If that's fate… then so be it."

He vanished into shadow.

Elsewhere, Jayden stood atop a cliff surrounded by swirling dead winds. Her hands were raised, commanding the shadows like a conductor. She was stronger now. Sharper. But not whole.

Mammoth stood behind her, watching proudly. "You're improving."

Jayden didn't respond.

"You've learned to suppress Sage's possession," he continued. "To summon the dead at will. You're becoming what you were always meant to be."

Still, she said nothing. Her eyes were colder now. Her lips unmoved. Even with the new power coursing through her veins, she didn't smile.

Mammoth walked toward her. "You still think of him."

Jayden flinched slightly.

"After what he did to you? He knew the truth and kept it from you. For himself. For his own obsession. You trusted him, and he used that to control you."

Her jaw clenched, eyes hardening.

"Say it," Mammoth whispered, voice low and coaxing. "Say you don't need him anymore."

"I don't need him," Jayden muttered.

"Say he betrayed you."

"He betrayed me," she said louder, anger finally bleeding through.

Mammoth stepped closer, taking her hand. "Good. Let that fury shape you. Let it make you rise."

He raised her palm toward the sky. Spirits swirled above them in a vortex of silent screams.

"You are the last heir of the throne of Lumeria," Mammoth declared. "The gods cursed your bloodline, but they feared you most. Not just because you command the dead... but because you will one day command the living. You are their queen."

Jayden looked into the wind, her hair whipping around her face. Something inside her stirred—not peace, not joy—but resolve.

She would become what the world feared. Even if it broke her.

Beneath the royal castle, the King stood once more before the shimmering veil that shielded the ancient, jeweled crown. Its diamond tips pulsed faintly, reacting to something beyond the castle walls.

His hand reached out—and again, the veil rejected him.

He scowled.

"I've tried everything," he growled. "Spells, blood rites, curses. This damn thing won't open."

He turned sharply as the high priest entered, bowing low.

"My King, the preparations are almost complete. The temple awaits."

The King looked back at the veil with a sneer. "This crown was left behind by the last fool who ruled. That witch—the so-called princess—must never return to claim it. She'll bring war, darkness... and that creature."

He narrowed his eyes. "Death himself walks with her. The reaper has chosen a side. But if she dies... if we perform the sacrifice at the Temple of Flame... then even he can be sealed."

"And the throne?" the priest asked.