CHAPTER 101: A MARBLE SPHERE

Auren caught Lucian’s arm just as the ice began to surge.

Cold magic cracked through the air, sharp and furious, before Auren’s grip pulled him back a single step. It was a small movement, barely anything at all, but enough to stop the spell from finishing its shape.

"Don’t," Auren said quietly.

Lucian’s breath was uneven, his chest tight with fury. Frost still clung to his fingers, crawling up his wrist like something alive, ready to break loose at the slightest push.

"She’s provoking you on purpose," Auren continued, lowering his voice just enough to cut through the storm boiling inside him. "If you strike now, she gets what she wants."

Lucian didn’t look at him.

His eyes stayed locked on Elyndra, burning colder than any ice he could summon.

"She took her," he said hoarsely. "She’s wearing her face like it’s nothing. And you want me to stand still?"

Auren’s grip tightened around his arm, firm but not forceful.

"That’s what she wants," he said quietly. "She wants you to lose yourself to anger. Because the moment you do... is the moment you might hurt Seraphina instead of saving her."

Lucian’s fingers twitched, frost biting deeper into the floor beneath their feet.

Auren leaned in just enough for his words to reach, "Control your anger, we still need to figure out where she put her..."

Lucian’s breath echoed faintly against the tiled walls as he forced it to slow, the frost gradually retreating from his fingers.

Before he could speak again, raised voices broke through the silence outside the room.

"No, Lord Blaze. We were instructed not to let anyone pass—"

"I only need a moment," a man’s voice answered, strained and unsteady. "Please... I just want to speak to Lady Seraphina."

Lucian’s head snapped toward the door.

So did Auren’s.

"Who is it?" Lucian asked, his brow knitting tightly.

"My lord..." Ena peeked in, visibly shaken. "It’s Lord Blaze."

Before Lucian could respond, a figure pushed past her.

Vaylen rushed into the bathroom and fell to his knees so suddenly the sound echoed against the tiles. His eyes locked onto Seraphina at once.

"Lady Seraphina..." His voice cracked as he dragged himself forward on trembling knees. "Please... help my daughter..."

He reached out blindly, his hands shaking as if he might touch her, might anchor himself to hope.

Silence swallowed the room.

Then Elyndra laughed.

A light, careless sound.

"Oops," she said, pressing a hand to her lips in mock apology. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh."

Her gaze flicked lazily toward Vaylen.

"But I suppose this means Lady Celeste is finally dead?"

Vaylen shook his head violently.

"No—no!" he cried. "She’s still alive, but it’s like her soul is... somewhere else. Please... you promised you would help her!"

He lifted his face toward Seraphina, desperation carved into every line of it.

"You told me you would save my daughter..."

Elyndra’s smile only widened. "Ah," she sighed lightly, "I’m afraid Lady Seraphina isn’t here right now."

She blinked slowly, the gesture exaggerated, mocking.

"W–what do you mean...?" Vaylen stammered, his gaze darting between her and Lucian. "My lord, what does she mean?"

Lucian’s jaw locked, cold fury tightening his expression.

"You brought this on yourself," he said flatly. "I know you made a deal with this fairy."

"Fairy?" Vaylen repeated weakly, the word tumbling from his lips as if it didn’t belong in this world he understood. "A... fairy?"

Then his eyes slid back to Seraphina’s face.

A terrible understanding crawled into them.

"Is she..." his voice broke, "Elyndra?"

Elyndra lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers in a mockingly cheerful wave.

"Hello, Lord Blaze," she chimed sweetly. "Should I thank you first?"

Her grin widened.

"After all, without your little ’correction’ to her history... we wouldn’t have gotten this far."

Vaylen’s fingers trembled violently at his sides.

"B–but that wasn’t what we agreed on," he said hoarsely. "You said you would cure my daughter."

Elyndra tilted her head, pretending to think.

"And I did."

Vaylen swallowed hard.

"Half a century ago, you promised she would never suffer again. And she didn’t. She grew stronger. Healthier. For years..." His voice shook. "But a week ago, she started falling ill again. Worse than before. And then you came to me and said..."

His gaze lifted to Seraphina’s face, dread finally settling into his bones.

"I agreed because you said that if I told her everything... you would fix Celeste," he said hoarsely, his voice breaking apart with every word. "I never thought you meant this. I didn’t know you were going to take her body... I swear I didn’t."

He turned desperately toward Lucian, eyes wet and frantic, "My lord... I didn’t know this was her plan from the beginning..."

His hands clenched at his chest like he couldn’t breathe.

"What do I do now?" he pleaded. "Celeste still needs to be healed. She’s dying again—please... help my daughter..."

Lucian stared at him. For a moment, he said nothing.

The silence felt heavier than any shout.

Suddenly moved, he crossed the space between them in three long strides and seized the front of Vaylen’s collar, hauling him up off the floor as if he were weightless.

"You made a deal with a fairy," Lucian snarled, his restraint finally cracking. "You rewrote your own daughter’s life with a lie and handed it to something you didn’t even try to understand."

Vaylen gasped, his hands clawing uselessly at Lucian’s arm.

"She wears my wife’s face because of you," Lucian continued, his voice cold enough to freeze the air itself. "She walks through my home. Sleep under my roof. Turn my trust into a weapon and you expect me to clean up your regret just because you finally realized what you did?"

His grip tightened.

"You were too blind to see it," he spat. "Too desperate. Too foolish to realize that the one living in your daughter’s body hasn’t been your daughter for a long time."

"W–what do you mean, my lord?" Vaylen breathed, his voice barely holding together.

Lucian shoved him back, releasing his collar and sending him stumbling to the floor.

"That fairy," Lucian snapped. "She’s been wearing your daughter’s body for half a century."

The words struck like a physical blow.

Vaylen shook his head violently, eyes wide with disbelief.

"No... that’s not possible..." His voice wavered, thin and frantic. "No... she was right there. I spoke to her. She laughed, she smiled—she was my daughter—"

"Was she?" Lucian cut in, his tone merciless.

Vaylen’s breathing broke.

"Wait..." he whispered, his eyes lifting slowly in horror. "Then... then where is Celeste?"

"You should ask her," Lucian replied coldly, his patience long gone.

Vaylen’s eyes darted helplessly from one face to the next, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps as panic clawed up his throat. Memories began to collide in his mind—fragments of half-heard prophecies, blurred warnings, words he had never truly understood at the time.

Then his eyes widened.

His head snapped toward Elyndra.

"A marble sphere..." he whispered hoarsely. "A... small marble sphere... hanging..."

His voice shook as something terrible finally took shape in his thoughts.

"The Oracles... they said... there would be two figures... trapped in a marble... hanging from someone’s neck..."

The room froze.

Slowly, every gaze dropped to Seraphina’s neck.