Chapter 25

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Chapter 25: The Curse That Breathes

The courtyard was a graveyard of silence.

The Vexian Five still lay unconscious, held in a trance beyond sleep. Their bodies twitched occasionally, caught in visions that only Selene's power had unleashed—visions that even Valerian couldn't begin to interpret.

Selene stood in the center of it all, wind curling around her like a lover. Her hair floated, her silver-mark pulsed in rhythm with something ancient and alive.

Valerian moved toward her, slowly, like approaching a storm he both feared and craved.

"You spoke a language that hasn't been heard in ten thousand years," he murmured.

Selene turned her head toward him, voice low. "I didn't know what I was saying. It just... came out of me."

"You tapped into the Prophecy's root." Valerian's tone was reverent. "Not just the surface. The origin. The curse that breathes."

Her eyes narrowed. "You said that once before. What is the curse that breathes?"

He walked past the unconscious assassins and stopped beside her.

"The curse isn't just a myth. It's alive. It doesn't kill with fire or poison. It awakens something in bloodlines—something buried. You and I, Selene... we're not victims of it. We're its design."

"You mean... we were made for it?"

He didn't answer. Not with words. Instead, he reached out and touched the silver-mark at her collarbone. It flared beneath his fingers, and Selene gasped—not in pain, but recognition.

A vision shattered across her mind.

—

She stood in a field of white roses, all of them crying red. A pale woman with long black hair stood before her, eyes the color of twilight.

"You must choose," the woman said. "He is the night, you are the key. Together you will open the gate—but at a cost."

Selene whispered, "What gate?"

The woman smiled. "The one that divides gods from monsters."

—

Selene blinked as the vision faded. Valerian was still touching her mark.

"You saw something," he said. "Didn't you?"

"Yes," she whispered. "A woman. A field. She said we'll open something... the gate between gods and monsters."

Valerian's jaw locked. "Then we don't have time."

He turned on his heel and shouted, "Send for Lysander and the Circle of Flame. Prepare the lower catacombs. We're going into the Shadow Archives."

Selene followed him down the long marble corridors of the keep.

"The what?" she asked.

"The Shadow Archives," he said. "A sealed vault beneath this mountain—older than me. It contains forbidden prophecies, curses, bloodlines. Secrets only kings are allowed to see."

"And now me?"

"You're not just a queen anymore, Selene. You're the storm they buried."

—

They descended into darkness for hours.

The stairs spiraled endlessly, the air growing colder with every step. At last, massive stone doors stood before them, carved with ancient sigils and sealed with blood.

Valerian pricked his finger and pressed it to the center.

The doors opened with a sigh, as if the mountain itself recognized its master.

Inside, there were no torches. Only shadows that shimmered like they breathed. Scrolls hovered in the air. Books chained themselves to stone. A tree made of bone sat in the center of the room, and its roots pulsed with silver light.

Selene stared, whispering, "This is where the curse was born."

"No," Valerian said. "This is where it was fed."

A figure stepped out from behind the bone tree.

Lysander.

Tall, robed in red and silver, his eyes burned like twin coals. "You should not be here, omega," he said to Selene.

Valerian didn't hesitate. "She must be here. She's the one it chose."

Lysander looked between them. "Then the war will begin sooner than expected."

"What war?" Selene asked.

Lysander walked toward her, gaze sharp. "The war between the ancient bloodlines. The Red Fang has already begun moving. They want your blood, your bond, and your mark."

Selene held her ground. "They won't have it."

"No," Lysander said with a smile. "They won't. Because you're not just an omega anymore."

He reached into the bone tree and pulled out a glowing scroll. As it unfurled, Selene saw her name.

Written in fire.

Beside it, a symbol: two wings, one white, one black.

Beneath that: The One Who Opens the Dark.

Valerian looked down at it. "You're the Fulcrum."

Selene whispered, "What does that mean?"

Lysander's voice was a breath: "It means you decide which world survives."

—

End of Chapter 25