The scent of burning flesh clung to the air, thick and suffocating. The sorcerer's screams had faded into a gurgling rasp, his body convulsing against the chains that held him to the stake. The crowd did not look away. They never did.
Seraphine Duskborne stood motionless, wrists bound before her, the iron cuffs biting into her skin. She was not yet burning, but she would be soon.
The High Inquisitor took a step forward, his crimson robes pooling at his feet like spilled blood. "You remain silent," he observed. "Is it because you cannot deny your crimes?"
Seraphine's lips curled into the ghost of a smile. "Or perhaps," she said, voice steady, "I do not see the point in speaking to a man who has already decided my fate."
A ripple of whispers passed through the assembled nobility.
The High Inquisitor's expression did not change. "The point, Lady Duskborne, is to confess your sins before the gods and seek absolution."
"The gods are dead." The words left her lips before she could stop them.
Silence.
Even the fire seemed to falter for a moment, its roar dimming to a whisper.
The High Inquisitor's jaw tightened. "Then I suppose you will burn without prayer." He lifted a hand toward the executioners. "Take her."
Two guards stepped forward, their hands reaching for her.
And then—the torches flickered.
The flames trembled as if caught in a breath of wind, though the air was still. A hush fell over the crowd, an unnatural quiet, thick with something unspoken.
Then, a scream.
Not from the burning man.
From the noblewoman in the front row—Lady Vhess, a minor duchess. She clutched her throat, her eyes bulging. The veins beneath her pale skin darkened, turning black as ink. A moment later, blood gushed from her mouth, spilling down the front of her silk gown.
Panic erupted. People screamed, recoiling as the noblewoman collapsed, her body spasming on the marble steps.
Seraphine's heart pounded.
This was not part of the execution.
A second noble fell. Then a third.
Shadows gathered at the edges of the courtyard, coiling like mist.
And then—he stepped from the darkness.
Tall. Cloaked in black. Eyes like dying embers.
The Cursed Prince.
Caius Veyne.
Seraphine barely had time to whisper his name before the world exploded into chaos.
---
The World Unraveling
The guards abandoned their formation, swords drawn, shouting orders over the panicked screams of the noble families. Caius moved through the chaos with the ease of a man who did not fear death, his steps unhurried, his gaze fixed on one person.
Her.
Seraphine's breath caught as the shadows curling around him slithered closer, pooling at his feet like living things. The whispers of dark magic clung to the air, thick and heavy, drowning out the cries of the dying.
"You should be dead," she said, the words barely a breath.
Caius tilted his head, a smirk ghosting across his lips. "So should you."
Seraphine barely had time to react before the shadows surged forward. Black tendrils lashed out, striking the executioners with the force of a storm. The first man collapsed, his skin withering to gray. The second stumbled back, his eyes rolling white before he hit the ground, unmoving.
The High Inquisitor turned, his voice a furious roar. "Seize him!"
But the guards hesitated.
Because the moment they stepped forward, the darkness moved.
A single flick of Caius's wrist sent the shadows coiling like serpents. One guard screamed as the black mist wrapped around his throat, lifting him from the ground before snapping his neck with a sickening crunch. The others faltered.
Seraphine's pulse pounded. This was madness. He was turning an execution into a massacre.
"Let's go," he said, eyes locking on hers.
Her fingers curled into fists. "I am not leaving with you."
His smirk didn't waver. "Oh?"
Seraphine lunged.
The chains on her wrists slowed her, but she still moved fast, twisting as she kicked out at his ribs. He dodged easily, stepping aside like it was a dance, catching her arm before she could strike again.
The moment his fingers brushed her skin, something sharp and electric tore through her veins.
Not pain.
Power.
She gasped, but Caius didn't let go.
"You still don't understand, do you?" His voice was lower now, almost amused. "You and I are bound, little sorceress. Your fate is mine."
She gritted her teeth. "I'd rather die."
A sharp chuckle. "Perhaps. But not tonight."
Another guard rushed them.
Caius moved before she could react, shoving her behind him as he blocked the strike with inhuman speed. Shadows coiled up his arm like living armor, stopping the blade before it could reach flesh. The guard barely had time to look terrified before Caius flicked his wrist, sending the man crashing into a marble pillar.
The courtyard was in ruins. Nobles lay dead or dying. The Inquisitor had vanished, likely fleeing into the palace.
Seraphine's breath came in sharp gasps. She could still feel the phantom heat of the pyre behind her.
She should run.
She should fight.
She should do anything but stand here.
Caius turned to her, his eyes dark pools of fire. "Last chance, Seraphine. Come with me, or stay here and burn."
The words shouldn't have made her hesitate.
And yet, she did.
A terrible choice. A terrible fate.
But the world had already unraveled, and the only thing left was the unknown.
Seraphine Duskborne took his hand.
And the shadows swallowed them whole.