Kaydence gripped Seina’s shoulder.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“She carries more than her mother’s blood,” the witch said.
“When the Bone Crown was forged, it didn’t just take her mother’s pain—it reached forward. It took hers. Before she ever existed. It birthed a twin. A mirror. Made flesh by grief and prophecy.”
Seina staggered back. “He’s my… brother?”
“No. Not in any human way. He is the choice you could have made. The rage you could become. He is what waits if you don’t kill him.”
“And if I do?” Seina asked, her voice shaking.
“Then part of you dies with him.”
The wind howled through the ruins.
Kaydence finally spoke. “There has to be another way.”
The witch turned. “There is. But it requires a different sacrifice.”
That night, under a blood-orange moon, Seina stood at the edge of the keep and stared down at the darkened world below.
Kaydence joined her. “You thinking of jumping, or just brooding dramatically?”
She cracked a weak smile. “Both.”
He leaned against the stone. “What if you didn’t have to choose?”
She looked at him. “Between what?”
“Between saving the world and saving yourself.”
“There’s always a price, Kay. That’s the one lesson I’ve learned from all this.”
His hand brushed hers. “Then let’s pay it together.”
Her voice was a whisper. “Even if I become her?”
He pulled her into his arms. “You won’t.”
She closed her eyes against his chest. “How can you be sure?”
“Because I already lost you once. And I’m not letting that happen again.”
She wanted to believe him. God, she did.
But somewhere in the shadows below, the child was waiting.
The dagger was watching.
And the woman in the vision was getting closer.
The child waited at the edge of the ruined kingdom—where the last river met the sea, where the stars always looked bruised and too close to the earth. He was alone.
Or so it seemed.
He spoke into the wind.
“She’s coming.”
From the trees, shadows twisted into humanoid shapes. Not quite people. Not quite ghosts. Just pieces of what once was—loyal to the child the way vultures followed death.
Seina stood at the top of the ridge with Kaydence and the few rebels they had left. The sky above them had gone sickly grey, like the world itself was holding its breath.
“He’s waiting for me,” Seina said, tone flat.
Kaydence’s jaw flexed. “Then I’ll go with you.”
“No,” she said, placing a hand on his chest. “If I fail , if I become her , I need you to do what I can’t.”
He froze. “You’re asking me to kill you?”
“I’m asking you to remember who I was if I lose who I am.”
He looked away, breathing hard.
Then nodded once.
“I’ll bring you back before that happens.”
Seina approached the child slowly.
The river between them was shallow, but it churned like a boiling vein. The shadows parted for her, but they hissed as they did.
She stopped when they were ten feet apart.
“You know why I’m here,” she said.
The child’s face remained serene. “Yes.”
“And you’re not going to run?”
He tilted his head. “I’ve never run from myself.”
That chilled her more than any threat could.
“I saw the vision,” she said. “The throne. The blood. You holding the dagger.”
He reached into his coat.
And pulled it out.
A dagger carved from bone and obsidian. The same design as the one in her vision. The same darkness swirling through the air like smoke.
“This is the moment,” he whispered. “You kill me. Or you don’t.”
Seina's knees trembled. Not from fear—but from recognition.
She felt the dagger.
She knew it.
It had been waiting for her longer than she’d been alive.
“You’re me,” she whispered.
“I’m the version you left behind. The part that wanted to burn the world for what it took from you.”
She thought of her mother.
Of the Bone Crown.
Of the betrayals, the pain, the endless fight.
“Maybe I should have let you live,” she murmured. “Maybe we needed your fire.”
The boy’s eyes softened. “Then take it. Let me back in. Be whole.”
The river roared.
The dagger pulsed.
And behind her, Seina felt the world pause—like everything waited to see what version of her would rise.
“I’m not going to kill you,” she said.
The boy blinked. “Then you choose me.”
“No,” she said. “I accept you.”
She stepped forward, hand outstretched.
 “I am the pain. I am the peace. I’m the weapon. And I’m the hand that throws it.”
The boy smiled.
And then—
He shattered.
Not violently. Not with screams. But like mist finally remembering it was never meant to be solid.
The dagger floated where he’d stood.
Seina reached for it.
And when her fingers closed around the hilt, the entire world shifted.
The Final Shape
The dagger did not burn her.
It welcomed her.
She saw flashes—visions too fast for thought.
Her mother, standing at the forge.
Kaydence, weeping in a future that had not yet happened.
A throne. A crown. A choice.
And then—nothing.
Stillness.
She opened her eyes.
The dagger was gone.
The child was gone.
Only Seina remained.
And for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel split in two.
Kaydence ran to her from the ridge, stumbling down the slope like a man who’d lost and found the world in the same breath.
He caught her in his arms.
“You didn’t become her,” he whispered.
“No,” she said. “But I finally became me.”
Back at the keep, the rebels watched the skies like gods might fall from them. The land still trembled beneath their feet, but something had shifted.
The Veil had thinned.
The Oracle never returned.
Seina stood in the center of the ruined courtyard, staring at the symbols etched into her skin. They weren’t glowing. They weren’t burning.
They were hers now.
Kaydence joined her, brushing his knuckles against her arm. “What now?”
Seina smiled faintly. “Now? We rebuild. Not empires. Not mafias. Just people.”
He nodded. “And if something else rises?”
“Then I’ll rise higher.”
They kissed beneath a sky that no longer felt like it was watching.
But somewhere—deep in the roots of the world—a new crack formed.
And something older than crowns stirred.