Lucian’s POV

The fires of dissent crackled louder than any flame I’d seen on a battlefield. My soldiers—my people—stood divided, their voices raised in anger and betrayal. The human Celestians I had saved, the ones I had sworn to protect, were now questioning the very foundation of the kingdom I built for them.

“I gave up everything to be loyal to you, Lucian,” one of them, Marek, growled, his cracked, veined skin glowing faintly in the torchlight. “We followed you when no one else would take us in. And now you choose her over us?”

“She’s a threat to all Celestians!” shouted another. “You promised protection, but she could end us!”

I stood at the center of the war room beneath the keep, the stone walls suffocating with tension. The council of my most trusted Celestian converts—those I’d turned human again through the power of the Crystal Veil—stood before me, their eyes burning with betrayal.

“I never promised to protect you from others,” I said, voice calm but edged with steel. “The contract was simple. You are free, here, in Valtara. You are under my protection as long as you do not bring harm to the humans who reside in this land. That was the oath.”

“But she—”

“She,” I cut in sharply, “is my future queen.”

Silence. Like a sword had dropped between us.

“You would betray the contract for her?” Marek hissed.

“I would uphold it. You forget your place. The outside world—the one you think you still belong to—wants nothing more than your extinction. Alazne and its factions will never see you as anything more than weapons. I gave you freedom. She,” I said, voice softening, “will accept you as I do.”

Behind me, I felt Thalia and Zagan’s presence enter. Of course, they’d find me here. Her timing was cursed as always. But she needed to hear this too.

I turned to her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I wanted to understand,” she replied, voice quiet but firm. “They look ready to kill you.” She didn't hear what I told them.

“They won’t,” I muttered, eyes still locked with Marek’s. “They know who they owe their lives to.”

Zagan narrowed his eyes. “You’re playing with a dangerous fire, Lucian. Even if they’re loyal now, desperation changes men. And Celestians are creatures forged in pain.”

“I know that better than anyone.”

---

I remembered it vividly—Romea, long before Bleeding Hallow’s rise. A graveyard of dying soldiers, barely alive from the war Alazne waged on its enemies. They were discarded like broken toys, left to rot.

And that’s when the Terranian witches came.

They brought potions—dark alchemy no mortal soul should’ve ever touched. They used those soldiers as subjects, reviving them with corrupted life. The result? Beings twisted by pain and fury. Celestians.

Nyx was among them.

A warrior unlike any I’d seen—once the Princess of Bleeding Hallows. She had fought the Celestians until the last breath of her human life… and then again when they resurrected her into one of their own. But unlike others, her consciousness never faded. She remembered.

When I found her half-mad in the ruins, she didn’t attack me.

I took her to the Crystal Veil—a relic older than any kingdom, in the middle of the sea. Somehow, it called to me. Through it, I discovered a way. I could heal her. I could restore a celestian mind and soul. 

One by one, I turned Celestians into humans again, rewoven with magic and purpose.

They were the first of my knights. My kingdom was born from ashes, not blood.

They has served by my side ever since.

Now, even she looked uneasy.

“Lucian,” Nyx said, stepping forward. “I warned you. The others—they’re stirring. And not just here. Beyond Valtara’s borders, the other Celestians are organizing. The ones who still think they are gods among mortals. They have an empress too.”

Thalia stiffened beside me. “Empress?”

“Not like me,” she added quickly, voice a touch bitter.

“No,” I said. “She’s nothing like you. They call her the Crimson Soul. And she does not believe in peace.”

“The contract only applies here,” I told Thalia. “Inside Valtara, my people abide by my rule. Outside…” I looked at her, hard. “There are others. Warlords. Rogue sects. They don’t care about your cause. And if they find out who you are, what you can do... they’ll tear kingdoms apart to get to you.”

She paled, but her chin lifted. “I can handle it.”

Zagan scoffed. “He didn't mean to make you fight them.”

“She’s brave,” I countered. "the only one who I can call worthy to be my queen," and I mean it.

But even I wasn’t sure which of us was right.

The Celestians were no longer monsters. Not all of them. I’d worked too hard to change that. But not everyone wanted peace. Some wanted vengeance.

And Thalia, unknowingly, stood in their way. She is a threat to all of them.

The field echoed with unrest. The tension hung heavy in the air as I stood before my people—my kin, my soldiers, my cursed and salvaged family: the human Celestians.

They had once been humans, like me. Before the war, before the Terranian witches defiled them with twisted alchemy and dark potions. They were the remnants of the Romea, Bleeding Hallows—revived corpses turned into weapons, enslaved to a kingdom that saw them as nothing more than tools. I saved who I could, offered them sanctuary in Valtara, and found a way to reverse the corruption in their veins. I used the power of the Crystal Veil to restore their humanity, bit by bit.

And now, they stood before me, anxious, wounded by fear, their eyes darting between Thalia, Zagan, and me.

"You shouldn't be afraid," I said, raising my voice so they could hear the calm authority behind it. I glanced at Zagan, then at the woman beside him. "Thalia and Zagan are not here to harm you."

Some scoffed. Others whispered.

Thalia stepped forward, composed yet burning with unspoken conviction. "I'm looking for the one who killed my master, Master Axl," she said, voice clear. "He was trading with the black market... he had an anti-magic sword—one forged in secrecy. Maybe someone among you has heard of it?"

The silence broke like a cracked mirror. Whispers turned to murmurs. The Celestians shifted uncomfortably.

They knew.

Some among them must've known of those dealings beyond the borders. Of the rogue Celestians outside Valtara—the ones trading enchanted blades for blood. Traitors to their kind, desperate for power, allies of a darker force.

One of my commanders stepped forward. "There’s a rumor, Your Majesty. About a Reinilda heir... destined to annihilate us all."

I narrowed my eyes.

The moment I glanced at Thalia, I saw it: the slight flinch, the fear of being seen as something more than she wanted to be. Something dangerous.

I stepped in front of her. "You are not thinking of harming her in front of me now, are you?"

Another voice—gravelly, angry—snapped from the crowd. "But Your Majesty! She will bring our end! The legend—"

"She will not!" I barked, cutting them off. My voice echoed. My authority, unquestionable.

But before the tension could settle, Zagan stepped forward. Cold. Composed. Lethal.

"I will," he said, raising his arm, hand glowing faintly with the stone curse he carried. A few gasped. Others dropped to their knees in terror.

They knew who he was. The merciless High Commandant of old. The one who could turn an army to stone with a mere touch.

"Zagan, no!" Thalia stepped between him and the crowd, her hand stretched toward his chest. "Let’s not make more enemies. Let’s make allies. Just as Lucian said—they are not like those beyond the borders of Valtara. We are not here to wage war or kill anyone. We are here to find out the truth—remember? We are here to find allies who can support my claim against the treason cast on my name."

The courtyard fell into silence again.

Thalia looked around, raising her voice—not just with strength, but with emotion. "Please, calm yourselves. I'm not here to annihilate anyone. I don’t believe in prophecies. I'm just a traveler, looking for answers. I've faced death countless times. Celestians have tried to kill me. Humans have plotted against me. But I stand here still. And even though I’ve learned the world may always be against me... I still hope. I still long for people who will fight beside me. Who will believe in something more than fear."

She turned to the crowd, voice trembling with truth.

"I know it's selfish... but I want to believe in those who fight not out of hate, but for peace. And if there are Celestians—like you—capable of trust, capable of loyalty... then I will fight for you. As Lucian trusts you, so will I."

I stood there, silent for a moment. Even I—who had seen war, betrayal, blood—felt something stir in my chest.

She was dangerous.

Not because of her bloodline. But because of her courage.

And maybe... because people like her gave hope even to the damned.

She didn’t know it yet. But she wasn’t just asking for allies.

She was starting a revolution.

--------

Thalia’s POV

Oh dear heavens.

What in the name of all things sacred was I doing here?

My knuckles hovered near the door—uninvited, unwelcome, yet utterly determined. My heart had been pacing like a hunted hare ever since Lucian’s gathering. I’d told myself this was simply for clarity, perhaps to forge a plan... or maybe confirm something more dangerous. Something... ridiculously romantic and entirely foolish.

I was going to speak to him. To Zagan. To the man who made my pulse riot with a mere look.

I knocked. No answer. Another knock. Still nothing.

"My lord?" I called out gently. Silence.

Was he asleep? Or dead?

Not ideal either way. So, like the self-respecting noblewoman that I clearly was not, I pushed the door open a little. It was unlocked, which in hindsight should’ve been a warning.

And what did I see?

Zagan. Standing in the middle of the room. Bare-chested. Damp.

Draping a robe over his very broad, very muscled shoulders.

I think I short-circuited.

"Oh—!" I gasped and spun around so fast I almost broke my own neck. "I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—I knocked! Truly! And you didn’t respond and your door was open and—by the gods—"

"What matters do you need me for, my lady?" he said in that impossibly cool voice of his. Calm. Disinterested. Infuriating.

I kept my eyes trained on the corner of the table. But of course, I couldn’t help myself. I stole a glance.

Big mistake.

Abs. Muscles. Veins. A literal statue of divine punishment and sinful temptation. All wrapped up in a half-tied robe that he finally secured after catching me mid-ogle.

"You’re not here for your failed attempts at seducing me again, are you?" he said.

Oh no. He smirked.

Smirked.

I wanted to throw a curtain rod at his head.

"I most certainly am not," I snapped, cheeks blazing. "Honestly! Your ego is as large as your... never mind. I came to talk about important matters."

He raised an eyebrow. The robe now firmly closed. Pity.

Zagan motioned toward the small seating table by the fireplace. "Then sit. Let’s speak like rational adults who do not gawk at half-naked men."

I huffed. Loudly.

But I sat.

The conversation shifted, thank the stars.

"I’ve agreed to speak with my father," Zagan said. "Under one condition—your name is cleared. The charges, the treason, the entire mess."

I blinked. My heart wavered. "That’s..."

"Don’t thank me yet," he added, eyes narrowing. "In return, you are to be my betrothed. The court must see you as more than a suspect or a witch. They must see you as their future queen."

The room suddenly felt warmer.

"Betrothed?" I repeated, nearly choking. "You want to wed me just to clear my name?"

"Not just to clear your name," he said. "To give you power. Protection. Access. You will need to make allies, meet council leaders, and gain their trust. Practice court diplomacy. Internal affairs. You’ve done that within the capital, but not outside."

My throat tightened. It wasn’t what he said.

It was what he didn’t say.

He stood and looked at me, hands behind his back like some perfect statue of royal coldness. "They’re supporting me not because they fear me, but because they believe I can protect them. And you... you are the only woman I know who can protect them as fiercely as I would."

I looked at him. Not like a prisoner. Not like a noblewoman.

But like a woman.

A stupidly smitten woman.

My cheeks warmed again. But strangely, there was a pinch of disappointment in my chest. A sting.

So it’s duty, then.

Just that. Not love. Not desire. Not the fire that burned beneath our every encounter.

But why did that sting?

Why did my stomach flutter when he said I could protect them?

Why did I want him to say something more? Something like—because I care for you. Because I feel what you feel. Because I see you.

"Very well," I said at last, trying to keep my tone even. "Then I shall do my part."

He nodded once. "Good. We leave in two days."

I stood, smoothing my skirts. "And next time, my lord, do lock your door."

He smirked again. "Or next time, you could simply knock louder."

I spun out of the room, tripping on my own cloak.

Oh gods.

I was falling for him, wasn’t I?

And the worst part?

He knew it.

And I think I wanted him to.

Stars help me.