The ruins blurred around Nyssa as she struggled to steady her breathing. The vision still burned in her mind—the silver throne, the choice, the power that pulsed beneath her skin.
Caelan's hands tightened on her shoulders. "Nyssa, what did you see?"
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. How could she tell him?
That she had seen a future where she alone sat on the throne.
That fate had given her a choice—one that might take her away from him.
Nyssa swallowed hard. "I saw… a different future."
Caelan's gaze sharpened. "What do you mean?"
She hesitated. "One where Omala doesn't fall. One where we win."** But I don't know what it will cost us.**
Caelan exhaled, his hands dropping to his sides. "Then that's the future we'll fight for."
She wanted to believe him. But fate had never been so simple.
The journey back to the palace was silent. Nyssa could feel Caelan watching her, waiting for her to say more.
But she couldn't. Not yet.
Because as much as she wanted to trust him, she wasn't sure if he was meant to be part of the future she had seen.
As they rode through the city gates, a commotion broke out. Soldiers were gathered in the courtyard. The tension in the air was thick.
Caelan pulled his horse to a stop and frowned. "Something's wrong."
Before Nyssa could respond, a soldier ran up to them. "Your Highness, you must come quickly!"
Caelan jumped down from his horse. "What happened?"
The soldier hesitated. "It's your father. The king… he's fallen ill."
Nyssa's heart clenched. King Aldred.
Caelan didn't waste a second. He was already moving, his face pale but determined.
Nyssa followed him, dread settling in her stomach. Fate was already shifting.
And she wasn't sure if that was a good thing.
The royal chambers were eerily quiet. King Aldred lay on his bed, his skin pale, his breath shallow. He had always been strong, unshakable. But now, he looked… fragile.
Caelan knelt beside him. "Father."
The king's eyes fluttered open. When he saw Caelan, he tried to smile. "My son…"
Nyssa swallowed hard. Something was wrong.
She felt it.
A sickness like this—it wasn't natural.
She stepped closer, the vision still burning in the back of her mind.
Was this part of fate's cost?
A dark thought whispered inside her. Or had someone done this to him?
Caelan turned to the royal physician. "What caused this?"
The healer hesitated. "We… we don't know. It happened suddenly."
Nyssa's blood ran cold. Suddenly?
She stepped forward. "Has anyone seen him in the last few hours? Any visitors?"
The healer's eyes flickered with hesitation. "Only Lord Varyn."
Caelan stiffened. "Varyn?"
Nyssa's breath hitched. She knew that name.
Lord Varyn. One of the king's closest advisors.
But more importantly—a man who had always looked at Nyssa like she was a threat.
She met Caelan's gaze. He was already thinking the same thing.
King Aldred wasn't just ill.
He had been poisoned.