The Sunken Citadel rose from the swamp like the bones of a dead god — crumbling spires, half-swallowed towers, bridges broken in mid-air. Fog coiled around its black stones, and the very ground whispered things best left unspoken.
No map had led them here.
Only blood.
Seren could feel it. The old magic sang in her spine like a second pulse — one born from the ancient rune seared into her back. A rune not of dragons, nor of flame.
But of him.
Of Aru'vethra.
And it wanted her here.
---
As the army camped a mile away, Seren stood on the rise with Nyara and Kael, gazing down at the Citadel's broken majesty.
"It used to be a place of worship," Nyara whispered, her voice tight. "Long before the vampire kings claimed it. The Veilborne used to come here to speak with the dead."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Now the dead speak back."
A wind rolled past them, and with it came a distant howl — something not quite beast, not quite man.
Seren's flame shivered around her fingers.
"We go at dawn."
---
That night, she dreamed again.
Of blood-stained altars.
Of hands reaching through flame.
Of her brother — Saren — standing at the center of a ruin, eyes black as sorrow, whispering words she couldn't understand.
Then, he looked at her.
And mouthed one word:
"Run."
---
Seren woke drenched in sweat.
She didn't run.
---
At dawn, she entered the Sunken Citadel with Kael, Nyara, Laziel, and a handful of warriors. The rest stayed behind with Ronan to guard the Accord's camp.
The entrance was a half-buried arch, choked with vines and old bones. As they passed through, the world changed.
The air thickened.
Time bent.
Sound became distant and wrong — as if the Citadel lived between the beats of the world's heart.
Kael gripped his sword tighter. "I don't like this."
"I wasn't asking you to," Seren said, and pushed forward.
---
Inside, the walls pulsed faintly — veins of crimson light beating like a wound. They passed murals carved into the stone: winged creatures tearing through cities, dragons bound in chains of moonlight, a black sun rising over a sea of skulls.
"This place was never holy," Laziel muttered. "Only cursed."
Seren stopped before one mural — it showed a girl with a crown of thorns cradling a burning child.
She didn't understand why she was crying.
---
Deeper in, they found the first guardian.
A being of bone and shadow — ten feet tall, forged from ancient armor and wrapped in chains that writhed like living things. It stood before a sealed gate, and its eyes opened as they approached.
"You are not welcome," it growled.
Seren stepped forward.
"I am not asking."
The creature moved — fast as lightning.
But Kael was faster.
Steel met bone, fire met shadow. Nyara's arrows struck true, each one igniting the chains. Laziel leapt from behind, slicing through a joint in the guardian's leg.
But it was Seren who ended it — flame roaring from her body, her sword striking through the creature's chest.
It let out a hiss of something like relief.
And crumbled.
The gate opened.
---
They stepped into a chamber unlike any other.
A great hall with no roof — open to a sky that wasn't theirs. Stars hung in impossible constellations. The moon was black and weeping silver blood.
At the center stood a throne of obsidian.
Empty.
But not abandoned.
Around it stood statues — twelve in all — hooded figures with runes carved into their flesh.
And before the throne, a pool of dark water rippled.
Seren approached it.
Inside the pool, she saw memories.
Of her as a child, laughing with her brother.
Of the day the dragons returned.
Of her mother's screams.
Of Aru'vethra — standing atop a mountain of bodies, smiling with blood on his lips.
She looked away.
But the pool did not.
---
Then a voice spoke.
Not aloud.
Within.
"You were never supposed to live."
Seren's breath caught.
"You were the echo of a mistake. A flaw in the pattern. But now you burn with fire that even the gods fear."
"Who are you?" she whispered.
"I am what waits. I am the cage and the key. I am the blood that binds."
Suddenly, the water surged upward — a shape forming in it. A mirror of Seren. But her eyes were black, and her smile was cruel.
The shadow-Seren attacked.
---
The fight was not physical.
It was soul against soul.
Seren was dragged into the water — into memories twisted and broken.
She relived her worst moments: her father's death, her betrayal by Laziel, the burning of her village.
Each time, her shadow whispered: "You are nothing. You are alone."
But in each memory, something shone.
Kael's loyalty.
Nyara's fierce faith.
Ashryx's roar.
And her brother's hand — always reaching.
Seren grabbed that memory.
And used it like a blade.
---
She tore free from the water, fire erupting from her skin. The shadow screamed — and shattered into mist.
The pool boiled away.
The throne cracked.
And beneath it, a staircase opened.
---
They descended into darkness.
At the bottom, they found a door.
Carved from dragonbone, sealed with runes older than time.
And on it, a single symbol.
The same rune on Seren's back.
Kael touched her shoulder. "You don't have to open it."
"I do," she said.
And pressed her palm to the rune.
---
The door dissolved.
Behind it was a chamber of silence.
And in the center…
A crystal.
Floating. Pulsing.
Inside it — a heartbeat.
A living heart.
Black as night.
Seren fell to her knees.
She knew what it was.
Aru'vethra's heart.
The source of his immortality.
The truth behind his power.
And it was calling to her.
---
"Destroy it," Nyara said.
"No," Laziel whispered. "It could end him. But it could also replace him."
Seren stood.
Her eyes were full of flame.
And pain.
"I don't want to be him."
"But you could be greater," the heart whispered.
"No."
She raised her sword.
And hesitated.
---
That hesitation echoed.
And from the shadows behind them…
Varion stepped forward.
"You've come far, Thornbearer," he said. "But this gift… was never yours to claim."
He raised his hand.
And the heart answered.