The ancient tunnels beneath the capital reeked of smoke, rusted metal, and betrayal. Scarlet moved like a phantom, cloaked in shadow, the broken sigil of the Red Crown stitched into her hood. She hadn’t come for negotiation. She hadn’t come for redemption.
She came to kill.
With each silent step, memories flashed—Echo laughing in her mother’s garden, training beside Scarlet, bleeding beside her in battle, whispering promises of unity before breaking them in a single night of fire.
Now, Lune’s life teetered on the edge, and the only currency left was blood.
Kaydence watched her gear up from the corner of the room, leaning against the stone wall with a cigarette dangling from his lips.
“You’re going in alone?”
Scarlet didn’t look at him. “That’s what she asked for.”
“She’s not playing fair.”
“Neither am I.”
Kaydence flicked the cigarette aside, crushing it under his boot. “You know I’d go with you.”
Scarlet finally looked up. “You can’t. You have to hold the line here. If I don’t come back—”
“Don’t say that.”
Her voice softened. “If I don’t come back, make sure Miro doesn’t get near the throne. Make sure Lune doesn’t follow me into the dark.”
Kaydence stepped forward, brushing a hand down her cheek. “Don’t talk like a ghost.”
“I’ve been one for a long time.”
The underground chamber was lit by flickering lanterns, casting shadows like dancing spirits. Lune was still tied to the pillar, blood smeared across her temple, one eye swollen shut.
Echo stood beside her, blade drawn, eyes wild with vindication.
“So you came,” Echo said, smiling. “Didn’t think you’d actually walk into the mouth of the beast.”
Scarlet stepped into the light, slowly removing her hood. “You think you’re the beast?”
“I became the beast. You ran away from her.”
“I evolved. You broke.”
The two women circled one another, their movements slow and deliberate. The years of friendship were gone. Only war remained.
“I wanted to fight with you, Echo.”
“I wanted to be you.”
Scarlet froze. “What?”
Echo’s face twisted. “You had everything—power, loyalty, love. Kaydence would’ve burned the world for you. But you never saw it.”
Scarlet narrowed her eyes. “You were the one who burned it.”
Echo lunged first, her blade slicing through air as Scarlet twisted away. The clang of metal echoed in the chamber. Lune screamed something—inaudible—but Scarlet blocked it out. There was only the dance of death now.
Echo was fast. Wild. But Scarlet was precision. Years of training, of loss, had sharpened her.
Sparks flew. A shallow cut bloomed red across Scarlet’s arm.
Echo laughed, breathless. “Still bleeding like the rest of us.”
“So do queens.”
She parried, twisted, drove her elbow into Echo’s ribs, knocking her back. Lune struggled at her bindings, panic in her eyes.
Echo spat blood. “Even if you win, you lose.”
Scarlet advanced. “Then I’ll lose with purpose.”
Echo charged again, but this time Scarlet anticipated the angle. She spun, dropped low, and drove her blade upward—deep into Echo’s side.
Echo gasped, eyes wide. “You… always…
“…choose your people,” Scarlet finished.
Echo stumbled, collapsing at Lune’s feet.
Scarlet moved quickly, untying her sister. Lune fell into her arms, sobbing.
“Let’s go,” Scarlet whispered.
Behind them, Echo crawled toward her fallen blade. A cough of blood. A curse.
“Tell Kaydence…” Echo rasped. “He never really knew me.”
Scarlet didn’t turn. “I know.”
Then she and Lune disappeared into the tunnels.
When they emerged from the catacombs, the city was beginning to stir. Red Crown banners flew again—this time with a symbol reworked by Scarlet’s own hand. A blade through a blooming rose.
Kaydence stood at the gate, waiting. His breath caught when he saw them.
“You did it,” he whispered.
Scarlet didn’t speak. She only walked forward, Lune in her arms, her own wounds soaking into the soil.
Behind her, the dawn rose.
And with it, a reckoning.
The wind whipped across the scorched remnants of the Red Citadel. It was gone—just ash, bone, and bitter memory. Scarlet stood at the edge of the ruins, staring into the blackened skyline. The ghosts of the past whispered with every gust, but she didn’t flinch. The time for mourning was over. Now came the reclamation.
“I’ll take it back,” she whispered. “Everything.”
Behind her, Kaydence’s footsteps crunched on debris. “The city’s in chaos. What’s left of the court is rallying behind false heirs.”
“They think I’m dead.”
“Some think you should stay that way.”
Scarlet turned, eyes burning like wildfire. “Then we show them what a ghost can do.”
In the inner sanctum of the Black Gate, Miro knelt before the high lords, blood still staining his cuffs. “The Red Crown has fallen. The Veil sisters are dead.”
He lied with the ease of a man who’d practiced it too many times.
But one among them—Drelthorn, a stoic elder with ties to the original regime—watched him closely. “And the boy? Drankworth?”
Miro’s lips twitched. “He’s broken. Let him chase shadows.”
But even as he spoke, Kaydence was already moving through the undercity, rallying allies, whispering of Scarlet’s survival.
A secret gathering was held in the cathedral ruins where the Moonblade once hung. Scarlet entered through the shattered arch, dressed not in royal garb, but in the armor of the people—scuffed, scarred, and real.
Gasps echoed. Knees bent.
Lune, at her side, stepped forward first. “She is the true heir. The only heir.”
Scarlet raised her voice, every syllable a blade. “I don’t want your thrones. I want your truth. Who sold us out? Who killed our father? Who put Miro in power?”
Silence stretched—until one man rose.
“It was Echo.”
The name hit like a bomb. Scarlet staggered back a step.
“She promised us power… in exchange for your fall.”
Scarlet’s jaw clenched. “Then we’ll burn her promises to the ground.”
That night, she didn’t sleep. She sat beneath the stars with Kaydence, sharing wine and silence. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.
“You’re not the same girl I met in that market.”
“She died,” Scarlet said. “When Annora chose your crown over your heart. When I chose war over running.”
Kaydence’s expression darkened. “Annora will be dealt with.”
Scarlet raised her brow. “I thought she was your weakness.”
“She was,” he said. “Now she’s my enemy.”
And when their lips met, it wasn’t forgiveness. It was a promise.