Elara leaned against the stone wall, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Sweat clung to her skin, but she wasn't too exhausted from the battle. Jude could feel it, the slow, suffocating pull of fate tightening around her. The mark of fate on her collarbone glowed faintly beneath her skin, a cruel reminder of the time slipping away.
Jude clenched his fists. He refused to let her die.
Kazimir, flipping a golden coin between his fingers, finally spoke. "We need to find a way to sever the connection between her and the brand." His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something sharper, more serious. "If we don't, the moment her time is up, fate's gonna rip her apart from the inside."
Elara exhaled slowly, watching Jude. "We don't even know if that's possible," she said, voice soft.
Jude met her gaze, fierce and unwavering. "We're making it possible."
Kazimir nodded. "There's one place that might have what we need a Fatebound Archive. If anyone has the truth about these brands, it's them."
Jude's stomach turned. The Fatebound Order kept records of every person's destined path—every rise, every fall, every death. If Elara's fate was written somewhere, it would be there.
"Where's the closest one?" Jude asked.
Kazimir chuckled. "Oh, you're gonna love this. It's right in the capital. Deep underground, in the Fatebound Sanctum."
Elara's expression darkened. "That's suicide."
"Not if we move fast," Kazimir countered. "It's a tomb down there ancient scripts, records of fate, and maybe, just maybe, the truth about how to rewrite destiny."
Jude didn't hesitate. "Then we're going."
Elara sighed but didn't argue. She wasn't the type to cling to false hope but she also wasn't the type to give up.
Time was running out.
The Descent into Fate
The capital loomed ahead, its towering white walls gleaming under the moonlight. But beneath the perfect city, hidden beneath layers of history, deception, and faith, was the Sanctum.
Breaking in wasn't the problem. Getting out alive was.
The three of them slipped through the city's lower district, sticking to the shadows. Kazimir led the way, his familiarity with these streets unsettling.
"You've been here before," Jude muttered.
Kazimir smirked. "Let's just say… I've borrowed a few things from the Order before."
Jude didn't have time to unpack that. They reached an unassuming stone courtyard, where Kazimir knelt beside an old well and pressed his palm against the bricks. A faint golden shimmer flickered beneath his touch.
A hidden entrance.
"Welcome to the graveyard of fate," Kazimir murmured as the stone slid open, revealing a dark staircase spiraling downward.
The Archive of Fates
They moved fast. No talking, no hesitation. The air grew colder as they descended, and the walls became smooth, ancient marble, etched with countless names each one bound to a written fate.
Jude felt something heavy settle in his chest. This wasn't just a library. It was a prison for every soul who had ever been controlled by fate.
Kazimir stopped before a massive iron door. "This is it."
Inside, golden pages floated in the air, each one humming with energy. A massive hourglass stood in the center, sand pouring down in slow, deliberate trickles.
But Jude's eyes locked onto one thing the Book of the Unwritten.
Kazimir followed his gaze. "That's the only book in here that doesn't follow fate's rules. Every time someone defies fate, their name gets added."
Jude didn't hesitate. He flipped it open.
And there, scrawled in gold ink, were two names.
Jude Kastor.
Elara Wyn.
His breath hitched. "She's already in here."
Kazimir's smirk faltered. "That means…"
Jude's mind raced. "She's already broken fate. She shouldn't be dying."
Elara stepped forward, eyes wide. "Then why am I still—"
A cold voice sliced through the air.
"Because the Order does not tolerate mistakes."
They turned.
Standing in the doorway was a figure draped in pure white robes, their face obscured by a golden mask. Unlike the knights they had fought before, this one radiated absolute authority.
Jude's grip on his sword tightened. "Who the hell are you?"
The figure stepped forward, unhurried. "I am the Fatekeeper. And you, Wild Card, have trespassed into sacred grounds."
The air shook. The floating pages twisted violently, the hourglass trembled, and Jude's heartbeat thundered in his ears.
"We cannot allow you to disrupt the natural order," the Fatekeeper intoned. "Elara Wyn was never meant to break her fate. And so, we shall correct that error."
The sand in the hourglass froze.
Elara gasped, clutching her chest. The mark on her collarbone flared with searing light—her fate was being forced back into motion.
"No!" Jude lunged at the Fatekeeper, but the air around him warped. An invisible force crushed him to the ground.
Kazimir flung a card toward the hourglass, but it vanished midair—erased before it could strike.
The Fatekeeper tilted their head. "You cannot fight fate."
Jude's vision blurred as the pressure mounted. His body screamed in protest. His mind spun. There had to be a way.
Then he saw it.
The Book of the Unwritten was still open. And something was changing.
A third name appeared beneath his and Elara's.
Kazimir Aetos.
Jude's breath caught.
"Wild Cards aren't bound by fate…" he whispered.
He met Kazimir's eyes. The realization hit them both at the same time.
Jude gritted his teeth. "Then let's do what we do best."
Kazimir grinned, flipping a card between his fingers. "Rewrite the damn rules."
Jude's mind ignited with possibility. If Wild Cards weren't bound by fate, then maybe just maybe he could do the impossible.
He could shatter Elara's fate once and for all.
The battle was about to begin.
And this time, they weren't playing by the rules.
The Fatekeeper moved without a sound, their white robes flowing like liquid moonlight. With a single motion, they raised their hand, and the world collapsed around Jude.
A force, ancient and absolute, crushed down on him. His knees buckled, his breath caught in his throat. The weight of countless written fates pressed against his bones, demanding submission.
Kazimir let out a sharp breath, barely keeping his balance. "Tch this is worse than I thought." His fingers twitched toward his deck of cards, but before he could act, the Fatekeeper flicked their wrist.
A golden chain erupted from the air, wrapping around Kazimir's wrist and dragging him to the ground. He let out a strangled grunt, his body convulsing as the chain pulsed with light.
"You do not understand," the Fatekeeper intoned, their voice neither cruel nor kind. It was final. "Wild Cards are nothing but errors. Aberrations. And errors must be erased."
Jude forced himself to move. His hand trembled, reaching for his sword. But another crushing wave of power bore down on him, pinning him to the marble floor. His muscles screamed in protest.
Elara's breath came in ragged gasps, her fingers clutching at her collarbone where the mark of fate burned brighter than ever.
She doesn't have time.
Jude's heartbeat roared in his ears. No. No, no, no, he refused to lose her.
His gaze shot toward the Book of the Unwritten, still open, still shifting. It had added Kazimir's name.
That meant something.
That meant fate was already being rewritten.
Jude's fingers curled into a fist. The Fatekeeper was wrong.
Errors weren't meant to be erased. They were meant to change everything.
His voice was hoarse, but it cut through the crushing weight. "You think we're mistakes?" His fingers gripped the hilt of his sword. The pressure was unbearable, but he forced his arm to move. "Then let's show you what happens when a mistake refuses to disappear."
The Fatekeeper tilted their head, as if unimpressed. "Defiance is futile."
Kazimir let out a choked chuckle, despite the chains digging into his skin. "Yeah? Then why are you so damn afraid of us?"
Jude moved.
Faster than fate itself.
His sword slashed through the air, colliding with the golden chains binding Kazimir. Sparks exploded from the impact, and for the first time, the Fatekeeper staggered.
The chains shattered.
Kazimir grinned. "Hell yeah."
The next second, a storm of golden cards erupted from his hands, each one glowing with chaotic, flickering light.
The Fatekeeper raised a hand, attempting to attack them. But this time, Kazimir had already played his hand.
The cards detonated midair, warping and shifting in ways that defied all logic. Some vanished, some duplicated, others turned into streaks of golden lightning and ripped through the walls.
The Fatekeeper recoiled, their power wavering.
Jude didn't hesitate. He grabbed the Book of the Unwritten and tore a page from its binding.
The moment he did, the entire room shook.
The hourglass in the center fractured, golden sand spilling out in jagged streams. The marble walls cracked, the floating pages scattered in disarray.
The Fatekeeper froze.
Jude didn't stop. He turned to Elara—sweat lined her forehead, her body trembling, but she was still breathing. Still alive.
He slammed the torn page against her glowing fate brand.
The moment the paper touched her skin—
Everything stopped.
The suffocating pull of fate vanished.
Elara gasped, eyes wide, clutching at her collarbone. The mark was still there—but the searing light had dimmed.
Jude's chest heaved. He didn't know if it was enough, if it had truly severed fate's hold on her, but—
She was still here. She was still alive.
The Fatekeeper's golden mask remained unreadable, but their voice held something new.
Uncertainty.
"This… is impossible."
Jude let out a sharp breath, his fingers tightening around his sword. "Yeah?" His lips curled into a smirk. "Get used to it."
Kazimir snapped his fingers, and the last of his chaotic magic detonated. The room erupted in golden light.