The world held its breath.
The ancient king knelt.
Before them.
Before both of them.
Dust drifted through shattered torchlight while thunder rolled endlessly beyond the palace walls.
No one moved.
No one dared.
Because something impossible had just happened.
The founder of Lorian—
The king spoken of only in legends—
Had bowed.
To Seraphina.
To her sister.
Its burning golden eyes shifted between them.
Waiting.
Watching.
Hungry.
"Which daughter carries the crown…"
Its voice vibrated through bone itself.
"…and which carries the curse?"
Seraphina swallowed hard.
The question felt wrong.
Not symbolic.
Not philosophical.
Literal.
Dangerously literal.
The High Chancellor recovered first.
"Don't answer it!" he shouted.
His fear was obvious now.
Real.
Desperate.
Master Thorne moved protectively beside Seraphina, sword raised.
"What happens if they answer?"
No one knew.
Not even her sister.
Which frightened Seraphina most.
The ancient king slowly rose to its full height.
Massive.
Terrible.
Its ruined crown scraped the broken ceiling.
Golden cracks glowed beneath armor fused to flesh.
A king buried for centuries—
Yet somehow still alive.
Or something worse.
Its gaze landed on Seraphina.
The pressure alone nearly forced her to her knees.
"You wear the crown," it rumbled.
Then it turned toward her sister.
"But blood remembers truth."
Her sister went pale.
"No…"
The king lifted one giant hand slowly.
Ancient symbols ignited across its skin.
The palace shook harder.
The air itself changed.
Heavier.
Thicker.
Like reality was bending.
Then—
Two circles of golden fire erupted beneath the sisters' feet.
Seraphina tried to move.
Couldn't.
Her sister cursed softly.
"It's choosing."
"What do you mean choosing?!"
But before she could answer—
Pain exploded through Seraphina's body.
Agony.
White-hot.
Her vision shattered.
And suddenly—
She was somewhere else.
Not the palace.
A memory.
No.
Someone else's memory.
A throne room.
Older than Lorian itself.
Covered in blood.
A man knelt before the First King.
Younger.
Terrified.
Holding two newborn babies.
Twins.
The king's voice thundered overhead.
"One child shall bind the kingdom."
The baby on the left glowed softly.
Warm.
Steady.
Then—
The First King touched the second child.
And darkness spread instantly.
The baby cried.
The torches died.
The room shook.
Priests screamed.
The king stepped backward in horror.
"This one carries ruin."
Seraphina's breath stopped.
No.
No no no—
The man holding the babies turned.
And she recognized him.
Her father.
Young.
Terrified.
Crying.
The memory twisted violently.
Her father shouting at someone.
"I won't kill my daughter!"
Another voice replied:
"Then hide her—or lose the kingdom!"
The memory shattered.
Seraphina gasped violently as reality slammed back into place.
She collapsed onto one knee.
Sweat covered her skin.
Across from her—
Her sister had fallen too.
Shaking.
Eyes wide with terror.
She saw it too.
The First King spoke again.
Quietly this time.
Almost gently.
"Now I remember."
Its glowing gaze shifted.
Toward Seraphina.
Then—
Toward her sister.
Silence stretched.
Terrible silence.
Then the king pointed.
At one of them.
And said:
"The cursed daughter still lives."
Every sword in the corridor lifted instantly.
The Chancellor smiled.
Master Thorne froze.
Seraphina stopped breathing.
Because the king's finger—
Was pointed directly at her sister.
And yet—
Her sister suddenly whispered, horrified:
"…No."
Because behind Seraphina—
Shadows had begun moving on their own.