The descent into the ruins was slow and treacherous. Vines curled around shattered pillars, and the earth beneath Seraphine's feet felt damp, as if the land itself still mourned.
She didn't speak.
Orien led the way, his steps practiced and certain. But the deeper they went, the heavier the air became, thick with the scent of something ancient.
Something waiting.
Seraphine swallowed hard. Every part of her screamed to turn back.
But she couldn't.
Not when she was so close.
Not when the truth was almost within reach.
Orien stopped before a broken archway, half-buried beneath tangled roots. His golden eyes flickered as he turned to her.
"Beyond this point," he said quietly, "there are no more lies."
Seraphine's fingers twitched.
Her heart pounded.
Then she stepped forward.
---
The Door of Chains
Inside, the air was wrong.
It was colder. Still.
The chamber stretched wide, its ceiling half-collapsed, but at its center stood a door.
Not a door made of wood or iron.
But chains.
Chains of blackened silver, twisting together like serpents, pulsating with something dark. Something alive.
Seraphine stopped in her tracks.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
"I know this place," she whispered.
Orien stepped beside her. "You should."
Seraphine's mouth went dry.
This wasn't just a ruin.
This wasn't just a door.
It was a prison.
And whatever lay beyond it…
She had put it there.
Her chest tightened. "Who?" she whispered. "Who is inside?"
Orien didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he turned to her, golden eyes sharp.
"Do you want to know?"
The hesitation in his voice sent a chill down her spine.
Because this wasn't just another forgotten memory.
This was the thing she had feared most.
Seraphine took a shaky breath.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
Orien exhaled.
And then—
He spoke the name.
"Nyphra."
A crack split the air.
And then—
The chains moved.
---
The Name That Should Not Be Spoken
Seraphine stumbled back.
She had felt it the moment he said the name.
A pulse. A whisper.
A force that had been dormant for centuries stirring.
The chains shuddered.
A low sound rumbled through the chamber—like laughter, but twisted and hollow.
Seraphine's breath hitched.
Because suddenly—
She remembered.
She remembered standing in this very place, a sword in her hands, blood soaking the floor beneath her.
She remembered Nyphra's voice.
"You think you can chain me?"
A curse.
A promise.
And then darkness.
Seraphine clenched her fists, trying to steady herself.
Her voice came out hoarse. "Who… who is she?"
Orien's gaze was unreadable.
Then, softly, he said,
"Your sister."
Seraphine's heart stopped.
Her mind reeled.
No.
No, that wasn't possible.
She had no sister.
She was the last of the Starborn.
Wasn't she?
But even as she thought it—
The chains rattled.
And somewhere beyond them, a voice whispered:
"Did you finally remember me, little star?"
Seraphine staggered back.
That voice—
It was real.
She had known it before.
And suddenly, the memories came flooding in.
Nyphra.
A name that should have been buried.
A name that should have been forgotten.
But it hadn't been.
Because Seraphine had been the one to lock her away.
And now—
She was waking up.
---
The Chain That Will Break
The chamber shook.
Dust rained from above. The chains burned with light, their metal groaning as something pushed against them from the other side.
Seraphine's breathing turned shallow.
"No," she whispered.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
She had sealed Nyphra away. She had made sure of it.
Orien grabbed her wrist. "We need to leave. Now."
Seraphine couldn't move.
Because deep inside her—
Something whispered back.
Let me out.
And the worst part?
For one terrifying second—
Seraphine wanted to.