The air crackled with tension.
Selene felt the weight of Valerian's words settle over her like a cloak of ice. The war has already begun.
She searched his silver eyes, looking for deception, but there was none. Only certainty.
Lucian tightened his grip on his sword. "What war?"
Valerian exhaled. "The war that will decide the fate of this world. The war that you, Lucian, were born to lead… and that Selene was born to ignite."
Selene's stomach twisted.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't belong to any war."
Valerian tilted his head slightly. "Don't you?"
Before she could argue, the shadows in the room shifted, forming a swirling vision in the air.
Selene and Lucian froze as an image took shape—
A vast battlefield.
Flames and shadows clashed, a war between light and darkness raging across an endless wasteland. Screams echoed through the air, and in the center of it all—
A woman stood, her hair ablaze with celestial fire, her body wreathed in blue flames.
Selene's breath hitched.
Because that woman…
Was her.
Lucian stiffened.
And beside her, another figure stood—a king dressed in midnight armor, silver eyes glowing like the moon.
Lucian.
The vision flickered.
Then exploded into darkness.
Selene staggered back, her pulse racing. "What—what was that?"
Valerian's voice was steady. "A glimpse of the future."
Lucian clenched his fists. "Visions are not fate. We choose our own path."
Valerian's gaze didn't waver. "Do you?"
Selene's mind spun.
This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. She had spent her life running—running from the Emberlands, from the truth of her power, from the fate others tried to put on her.
She refused to believe she was destined for anything.
Lucian turned to her, his voice low, urgent. "Selene, we don't have to accept this."
But she couldn't look at him.
Because a part of her—the part that had always felt different, the part that had always known her fire was more—was afraid.
What if this was always meant to be?
Valerian stepped closer.
"There is an army rising, Selene. Forces greater than either of you understand. You may try to deny it, but the world will not wait for you to decide."
The air hummed with power.
Then—
A deep, rumbling sound shook the chamber.
The walls quivered.
Lucian's head snapped up. "What was that?"
Valerian's gaze darkened.
"They have found us."
The torches flickered violently, shadows twisting unnaturally along the walls.
Selene's pulse spiked. "Who?"
A cold wind swept through the throne room.
And then—
A figure stepped through the darkness.
Tall. Cloaked in shadow. Eyes burning with violet fire.
Lucian's breath caught. "No…"
Selene felt pure dread crawl up her spine.
Because she recognized the face from stories whispered in fear.
The Harbinger of Night.
A creature of legend. A being of pure destruction.
And it was here.
For them.
The figure smiled slowly, revealing sharp, glowing fangs.
"The lost king and the fireborn," it purred. "At last."
Lucian raised his sword.
Selene's fire surged.
Valerian exhaled. "So it begins."
And then—
The war truly started.
End of Chapter Thirty-Seven