Chapter Nine: The King's Reflection
The throne room was silent, its oppressive darkness a comforting familiarity to Kaelion. He leaned back in his obsidian throne, his sharp mismatched eyes fixed on the faint glow of runes scattered across the floor. A quiet hum of magic resonated in the air, a song only he could hear.
Aeliana's defiant words still echoed in his mind.
"I'll break those chains. And when I do, you'll regret ever trying to bind me."
Kaelion allowed himself a faint smirk, though his thoughts were far from amused. She was unlike anyone he'd dealt with before—bold, reckless, and maddeningly resistant to his control. It was rare for someone to meet his gaze without trembling, let alone challenge him openly. And yet, there she was, standing in his chambers, daring to defy him as if she weren't at his mercy.
No, not mercy. Will.
He drummed his fingers against the armrest, his mind turning over the possibilities. Aeliana wasn't just another pawn in his kingdom—she was a key. Her power was unlike anything he'd encountered. Raw, untamed, and far more potent than even she realized. But it wasn't just her magic that intrigued him; it was her spirit.
Most people broke under pressure. She burned brighter.
That fire of hers was both a threat and a promise. It made her dangerous, unpredictable—and captivating.
Kaelion rose from his throne, his black cloak trailing behind him as he descended the steps. The runes on the floor pulsed faintly in response to his movements, acknowledging his presence like loyal servants. He paused in the center of the room, his mismatched eyes narrowing.
"She doesn't understand yet," he murmured, his voice a quiet growl. "She thinks she's fighting me. But she's really fighting herself."
He had seen it during her trial in the throne room—the way her magic had surged, wild and unrestrained, yet hesitant at its core. She was afraid of what she was capable of. And that fear was holding her back.
Fear had its uses, of course. He had wielded it expertly for years, bending his enemies to his will with a single glance. But fear alone wouldn't be enough to mold Aeliana into what he needed her to be.
She needed to break—and then rise stronger.
Kaelion's lips curved into a wicked smile. "Let her believe she's free," he muttered. "Let her think she's winning. The fire she clings to will only burn brighter in the face of defiance."
He turned toward the balcony, stepping into the cool night air. The city of Lythrenis stretched out before him, its crystalline towers glowing faintly under the light of the twin moons. From here, he could see everything—his kingdom, his people, and the layers of power that kept them all under his thumb.
And yet, it wasn't enough.
Kaelion's gaze drifted upward to the distant mountains that bordered his lands. Beyond them lay the ruins of his mother's domain, a wasteland scorched by demonic magic. It was a place of death and power, a legacy he had inherited but never embraced.
Aeliana could change that.
She didn't realize her potential yet, but Kaelion did. Her magic wasn't just fae; it was something more, something ancient. If he could harness it—if he could shape her—then he would have the power to do what his mother could only dream of.
But there was a danger in her fire, too. If he pushed too hard, she might destroy herself. Or worse—she might rise against him.
Kaelion's smirk returned, colder this time. "Let her try," he said to himself. "It will only make her stronger. And when she's strong enough…"
He trailed off, his gaze hardening as his thoughts turned to the future.
When she's strong enough, she'll realize there's no escaping me.
Kaelion turned away from the balcony, his cloak sweeping behind him as he returned to the throne room. The runes pulsed again, brighter this time, as though sensing his renewed determination.
Aeliana thought she was fighting him. But in truth, she was playing his game. And whether she realized it or not, every step she took brought her closer to him.
She could burn as brightly as she wanted.
Kaelion would be the one to control the fire.