The wind outside the manor screamed like it remembered her name.
Seraphina stood barefoot in the center of the ward circle, arms limp at her sides, breath ragged. Around her, candles flickered violently, even the enchanted ones, and the golden lines of Lucien's magic cracked under pressure.
"Ilyra," she whispered, voice hollow.
The wind answered.
"Here."
The magical surge hit like a lightning strike.
Lucien and Riven burst into the room as the floors groaned and the walls pulsed with energy. The sigils Lucien had etched days ago now hissed, trying to repel the intrusion, but the power wasn't coming from outside.
It was coming from Seraphina.
Or what was left of her.
"Don't step inside the circle," Lucien warned, halting Riven with one hand. "It's possession magic. If you break the wards while it's in flux, it could anchor her."
"She's already anchored!" Riven snarled. "Look at her!"
She floated inches above the floor now, eyes white with power, her voice layering over itself in two tones, one her own, the other older, broken, and beautiful.
"I died," it said, "but I was never gone."
Lucien's throat worked. "Ilyra…"
The spirit's head turned.
"You let them burn me."
Inside, Seraphina fought like hell.
She wasn't gone, just buried, submerged beneath waves of ancient magic. She felt her memories fragmenting, her thoughts being rewritten, her body no longer her own.
But even in the chaos, she could feel one thing clearly:
Lucien.
He was the anchor. Her light in the dark.
Fight her, she told herself. You are not her. You are not a shadow.
But Ilyra's voice was louder.
"We are one now, Seraphina. Two threads in the same weave."
Outside the circle, Lucien was unraveling.
"She's merging with her," he said, chest tight. "This isn't just a haunting anymore. Ilyra's soul, what's left of it, is embedding in Seraphina's core magic. If it finishes, we won't be able to separate them without destroying one."
"There has to be a way," Riven said. "There always is."
Lucien turned on him, eyes glowing faintly. "You don't understand. This magic, this bond, I warned her before. Ilyra tried to tie them together even in death. I stopped the spell. But she must have left a fragment. A living spell. Now it's grown."
"And you didn't tell her?" Riven's voice dropped. "You knew this was possible and didn't warn her?"
Lucien didn't answer.
Didn't have to.
Inside the circle, Seraphina opened her eyes.
White fire blazed from her fingertips. Her hair floated in a halo of dark flame, and the room warped around her like the air couldn't contain what she was becoming.
She turned to Lucien, eyes now glowing twin golds, hers and Ilyra's, overlaid.
"You chose her over me," she said. "You let me die."
Riven flinched.
Lucien stepped forward, slow, controlled. "I did what I had to. And I grieved every second."
A pause.
Then,
"Lie."
The room shuddered.
Riven ran.
Not from the room, but to the crypt.
Deep under the manor, beneath tangled roots and forgotten stairwells, lay the royal archives. The place Lucien never let anyone enter.
He shattered the locks with one blow of shadow blade magic and descended into the dark.
What he was looking for wasn't a weapon.
It was the truth.
In the archives, he found it.
An old scroll, hidden beneath layers of spells. The ink shimmered faintly, as if resisting being read. He forced it open.
The Hollow Crown: A soul binding ritual designed to merge twin magical cores into one vessel, preserving power beyond death. Forbidden by the High Council. Last known attempt: Ilyra of the Starborn Court.
And written in another hand,
Lucien's.
I stopped her before it finished. Or I thought I did.
Riven's heart thundered.
She'd tried to bind Seraphina.
Lucien had lied.
And now they were both paying the price.
Back in the chamber, Lucien stepped into the circle.
Magic burned his skin immediately.
"Lucien, no!" Riven shouted from the doorway.
Lucien turned, blood trailing from his fingers. "She's still in there."
"I found the ritual," Riven said. "She planned this. It wasn't just love, it was control. You knew."
Lucien didn't deny it.
Just stepped closer.
"I thought if I could keep her safe… I could spare her the truth."
Seraphina, no, Ilyra floated down slowly, until her feet touched the floor. "You always wanted to choose," she said. "Now you don't get to."
Lucien reached for her hand.
"Come back to me," he whispered.
Inside the storm of her mind, Seraphina heard him.
She turned,her real self, trapped in a prison of memory and flame.
Lucien stood on the other side of the veil.
"I know what she did to you," he said. "I should've told you. I thought I could protect you from it, but I was wrong."
She reached for him. "I'm slipping."
"Then let me pull you out."
"Ilyra's stronger"
"No," he said, and his voice was thunder, "you are."
Seraphina screamed.
The real one.
And power exploded.
The magic circle cracked, shards of gold and salt shooting outward in a burst of energy. Lucien flew back. Riven caught him before he hit the wall.
And Seraphina collapsed.
Silence.
Smoke.
Then, movement.
Lucien stumbled forward. "Sera?"
She blinked up at him.
Eyes: just hers.
Breath: ragged, but her own.
Voice: shaking, soft, but steady.
"I'm here."
But not alone.
Deep inside, in a place even she couldn't reach.
A fragment remained.
Watching.
Waiting.
"He'll always choose you," Ilyra whispered. "But I remember what it felt like when he chose me first."