The throne room seemed to close in around Elara, the walls heavy with the echoes of their past. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the stone floors, turning Kaelen into a dark silhouette. His presence—commanding, resolute—felt suffocating. It wasn't the king she had once known. It wasn't the man who had held her close and whispered promises of a shared future.
No, this was a stranger.
"Elara…" Kaelen said again, his voice laden with disbelief. "I— I never thought I'd see you again."
His eyes were wide with a mixture of confusion and something darker, something that she could not quite place. She felt her breath catch, her pulse quicken, but she forced herself to stand tall. There was no room for hesitation now. The time for memories had passed. There would be no more moments of weakness, no more softness for the man who had destroyed everything she held dear.
"You never should have seen me again," Elara said, her voice sharp as a dagger. The words fell from her lips like stones, each one heavier than the last. She could feel the sting of them, but there was no turning back.
Kaelen's expression faltered. His hand gripped the armrest of the throne, knuckles turning white. The air between them grew thicker, suffused with the tension of years lost to anger and regret. Elara could see it in his eyes—the remnants of the man who had once been her lover. The man who had promised they would always be together, no matter the cost.
But she wasn't the same person anymore. And neither was he.
"You think I wanted it to be this way?" Kaelen's voice cracked slightly, though he quickly masked it with a regal composure. "I had no choice. The gods—Elara, you have to understand. I had to make a sacrifice."
"A sacrifice?" Her laugh was bitter, like the taste of poison. "You call what you did to me a sacrifice? You killed me, Kaelen. You gave me to the gods like I was nothing more than a pawn in your game."
His face tightened, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes, quickly hidden behind his kingly mask. He straightened in his seat, gathering his composure as if the weight of her words had struck him harder than he cared to admit.
"You think I wanted to? I never wanted to. But I had no choice. The kingdom was falling apart, the gods demanded it… and I had to protect everything." His voice grew more desperate, his gaze locking onto hers as if willing her to understand. "You don't know what it was like, Elara. The pressure… the weight of the crown. You think I betrayed you for nothing? I did what I had to do to save Ashford. To save us."
"Us?" Her voice was a low, venomous hiss. "You think I would ever want to be a part of your kingdom now? You think I would ever trust you again after what you did?"
Kaelen's jaw clenched, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence that settled between them was oppressive, as if the very walls of the throne room were pressing in. The years of pain, of betrayal, of memories both good and bad, hung heavy in the air like a storm about to break. Elara's chest tightened as her mind spiraled, dragging her back to the day she had died.
It was supposed to have been a wedding.
They had planned everything in secret. The ceremony, the vows, the future that awaited them both. They had been so young then—foolishly idealistic, naive to the way the world worked. Elara had believed in their love, had believed in Kaelen, in his promises of loyalty, of a life beyond the burdens of the crown.
But on that fateful day, just before the vows could be spoken, it had all shattered.
The gods had demanded a sacrifice. The kingdom had been on the brink of collapse—rebels stirring unrest, famine threatening to devour the land, and magic itself beginning to fade. To save Ashford, Kaelen had made a choice. He had offered her life as the price, thinking it would save them all. He had sent her to the gods with a cold resolve, knowing full well what it would mean for her.
And then, when she had died, he had walked away, leaving her behind as though she had never mattered. The people hailed him as a hero, as a king who had done what was necessary.
But Elara had known the truth. She had known the cost of that sacrifice.
"I loved you," she whispered, her voice breaking for the first time since her return. "I loved you more than I ever should have. And you killed me for it."
Kaelen's expression faltered again, the king's mask slipping for just a moment. His hand trembled as he reached for the golden goblet by his side. He took a slow sip, eyes never leaving her face.
"You think you're the only one who suffered?" he asked, the edge in his voice betraying the cracks in his composure. "I lost everything too, Elara. The kingdom fell apart after you died. People turned on me. They whispered that I had sacrificed my own love to save them. The guilt ate me alive, every damn day."
"So you thought it would be easier to forget about me? To bury me and move on?" Elara's voice grew harder, the hurt in her heart turning to fire. "You never once thought to come after me, Kaelen. Not once. You let them believe the lies. You let me die and became a king in my place."
Kaelen set the goblet down with a sharp clang. His gaze hardened. "I did what I had to do. You think I didn't want to save you? You think I didn't think about you every damn day, wondering if there was another way?"
Elara shook her head, the anger within her boiling over. She couldn't look at him anymore. She couldn't bear the sight of his face, twisted with guilt and frustration, because it only reminded her of the broken promises, of the love that had once been her light.
"Enough," she said, her voice low and cold. "There is no more room for excuses. You gave me to the gods, Kaelen. You killed me, and you cannot take that back. No matter what you say, no matter how much guilt you carry, it doesn't change the fact that you are the reason I died."
Her words struck him like a blow. Kaelen's face hardened, but there was no fire in his eyes now—only the weariness of someone who had fought a war against his own heart. He stood, slowly, as if the weight of her words were too much to bear. "What do you want from me, Elara?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you want me to beg for your forgiveness? Do you want me to say that I was wrong, that I didn't do what I had to?"
Elara's eyes narrowed, her magic humming beneath her skin. "I want you to understand what you did. I want you to understand the pain you caused me. And I want you to feel the weight of that for the rest of your life."
Kaelen flinched, but he didn't look away. For the first time since they had met again, there was a moment of truth between them. She saw it in the way his shoulders sagged, the deep lines etched into his face, the exhaustion in his eyes.
But Elara didn't care for his regrets. Regret wouldn't bring her back to life. It wouldn't undo the years of darkness that had followed her death.
"No," she said softly, her voice hardening with finality. "There is nothing you can say that will make this right. You took my life, Kaelen. Now I will take something of yours."
Kaelen's face paled, his breath catching in his throat. "What are you saying?" he whispered, but there was no fear in his eyes—only a growing understanding of what was to come.
Elara's gaze locked with his, her eyes burning with the intensity of her resolve. "I will take your kingdom, Kaelen. And you will watch as I tear it all apart."
She turned away then, her cloak swirling behind her like the storm that had once swept through her life. She could feel his eyes on her back, but she didn't look back.
She had made her choice. The kingdom would fall. And Kaelen would fall with it.