ELARA'S POV
The shadows under my skin wouldn't stop moving.
I sat alone in the wagon, staring at my bound hands as tendrils of darkness coiled around my fingers like smoke. They responded to my thoughts—when I felt angry, they grew thicker. When I felt scared, they trembled.
I wasn't sure which emotion was winning.
"Stop it," I whispered to myself. "Whatever you are, just stop."
The shadows didn't listen.
Outside, I heard my people weeping.
The wagon crawled through Luminveil's streets, and through gaps in the curtains, I caught glimpses of the destruction. Burned buildings. Broken windows. Families huddled together, watching the enemy army parade their conquered queen through the ruins.
"Your Majesty!" someone cried. "Don't let them take you!"
I pressed my face to the curtain, trying to see who'd shouted. A young woman—maybe twenty—stood in the rubble of what used to be a bakery. Tears streamed down her soot-stained face.
"I'm sorry," I mouthed, knowing she couldn't hear me. "I'm so sorry."
The wagon rolled on. More voices joined the first—some crying my name, others cursing me for surrendering, others just sobbing. Each sound was a knife in my chest.
This was my fault. I was their queen. I should have protected them.
The shadows around my hands pulsed with my guilt, growing darker.
A horse drew alongside my wagon. Through the curtain, I saw Cassian riding past. He didn't look at the destroyed city or the crying people. He stared straight ahead, his expression carved from stone.
How could he be so cold? So unmoved by the suffering around us?
Then I noticed something—his hands gripping the reins were white-knuckled. His jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack.
Maybe he wasn't unmoved. Maybe he was just better at hiding it.
Or maybe he simply didn't care.
The wagon jerked to a stop. I heard shouting outside, then the sound of steel being drawn.
My heart hammered. Were we under attack? Had my people decided to fight back?
The wagon door flew open. A soldier peered in—not threatening, just checking.
"We're leaving the city, Your Majesty," he said quietly. "Thought you'd want to know."
Want to know I was leaving my home forever? Want to know I'd never see Luminveil's white towers again?
"Thank you," I said, because what else could I say?
He nodded and closed the door.
The wagon moved faster now, leaving the city behind. I pushed aside the curtain one last time and looked back.
Luminveil burned against the dawn sky. My beautiful capital—three hundred years of peace and prosperity—reduced to smoke and ash in a single night.
I let the curtain fall and closed my eyes.
That's when the memories came flooding back.
"Elara, stop wiggling. The crown won't sit right if you keep moving."
My mother's voice, warm and laughing. I was sixteen, trying on her starlight crown for the first time. It was too big, slipping down over my eyes.
"Why do I have to wear this heavy thing anyway?" I complained.
"Because someday, my darling girl, you'll be queen. And queens must bear the weight."
I'd rolled my eyes. Being queen seemed boring—all those council meetings and diplomatic dinners.
I hadn't known how precious boring could be.
"Do you, Elara Moonwhisper, swear to protect and serve the people of Luminveil?"
My coronation day. Twenty-one years old, standing before thousands, wearing that same starlight crown. It fit perfectly now.
But my parents' thrones stood empty. They'd died six months earlier in a "magical accident."
Murdered, I now knew. Murdered by the very councilors standing behind me, witnessing my oath.
"I swear," I'd said, meaning every word.
I'd failed. I'd failed them all.
The wagon hit a bump, jolting me back to the present. My cheeks were wet.
When had I started crying?
I wiped my face roughly, hating the weakness. Queens didn't cry. Queens stayed strong for their people.
Except I wasn't a queen anymore. I was a prisoner.
The realization hit me fresh, like a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. Everything I'd been, everything I'd worked for—gone in one night.
My stomach growled. When had I last eaten? The festival felt like years ago, but it had only been hours.
A tray sat on the bench across from me—bread, cheese, dried fruit. The soldiers must have left it while I was lost in memories.
I should eat. Keep my strength up.
But the thought of food made me sick.
What right did I have to eat when my people were starving in the ruins? What right did I have to survive when my guards had died?
The shadows around my hands grew again, feeding on my grief.
"Stop," I whispered, shaking my hands. "Please, just stop."
They retreated slightly, but didn't disappear. They were part of me now, whether I wanted them or not.
Ask him what happened to the last person in his family who had it.
Vex's words haunted me. Chaos magic, he'd called it. Something my family had suppressed for generations.
Why? What was so dangerous about it?
And why did Cassian look terrified when Vex mentioned it?
Three days crawled by like three years.
I didn't eat. Couldn't force myself to swallow more than a few bites. Didn't sleep—every time I closed my eyes, I saw Captain Theron falling, Dara's sword flashing, little Sara lying dead in her mother's arms.
The shadows grew stronger.
By the third day, they covered both my hands completely, shifting and writhing like living gloves. I couldn't make them go away anymore.
The wagon finally stopped.
"We're here, Your Majesty," a soldier called. "Ironspire Castle."
I didn't move. Didn't want to see my new prison.
But the door opened anyway, and torchlight flooded in.
"Come," a woman's voice said—not harsh, but firm. "Standing in the wagon won't change what's waiting."
I blinked against the light. A young woman stood outside, maybe a few years younger than me. She had kind eyes but a warrior's stance.
"I'm Mira," she said. "King Cassian's cousin. I've been assigned to... well, to help you adjust."
"You mean watch me," I said bitterly.
"That too." At least she was honest. She offered her hand. "Come see your new home."
I ignored her hand and climbed out myself, my legs shaky from three days of sitting.
Ironspire Castle rose before me like a nightmare made stone. It looked less like a palace and more like a mountain that had grown towers and walls. Everything was dark—black stone, iron gates, guards in midnight armor.
The opposite of everything Luminveil had been.
"Cheerful place," I muttered.
Mira almost smiled. "It grows on you."
"Like fungus?"
This time she did smile. "Like family. Eventually."
Cassian appeared from the gatehouse, still in his battle armor. Our eyes met across the courtyard.
He looked exhausted. Three days of riding without rest had carved new lines into his face.
Good. I hoped the guilt was eating him alive.
He started walking toward me, but stopped halfway when a commotion erupted at the gates.
A rider galloped through, his horse lathered and heaving. The man practically fell from the saddle.
"Your Majesty!" he gasped. "Message from the border!"
Cassian's expression darkened. "What is it?"
"The three councilors—they escaped during the night. Someone ambushed the prison wagon and freed them."
Ice flooded through me. Vex. Thane. Morrow. Gone.
"How?" Cassian demanded, his voice deadly quiet.
"We don't know. The guards were found unconscious. No blood, no wounds—just sleeping. Like magic put them under."
Cassian's eyes snapped to me. "What kind of magic?"
"I didn't—" I started, but then I noticed the shadows wreathing my hands had grown darker. Angrier.
"I didn't do anything!" I insisted.
"I didn't say you did." But suspicion flickered in his gaze. "Take her to the tower. Now."
"Wait!" I struggled as soldiers moved toward me. "You can't think I—I've been locked in a wagon for three days!"
"Magic doesn't need you to be present," Cassian said coldly. "Especially chaos magic."
"I don't even know how to use it!"
"Then we'd better figure it out fast." He turned to his soldiers. "Double the guard on her quarters. No one in or out without my permission. And someone find out everything we can about chaos magic and how to contain it."
As they led me away, I looked back at Cassian. "I didn't free them!"
He didn't answer. Just watched me go with those storm-gray eyes that gave nothing away.
Mira walked beside me as guards escorted me into the fortress. "For what it's worth, I believe you."
"Why?" I asked bitterly. "Your cousin clearly doesn't."
"Because if you could escape using magic, you'd already be gone." She glanced at my shadow-wrapped hands. "But he's right about one thing—we need to understand what's happening to you before someone gets hurt."
We climbed a spiral staircase that seemed to go on forever. Finally, we reached a heavy wooden door.
The guards opened it, revealing a room that made me stop in my tracks.
It wasn't a cell. It was beautiful—silk curtains, a massive bed, a fireplace already burning. Books lined one wall. Windows looked out over dark mountains.
A golden cage for a captive queen.
"Everything you need is here," Mira said gently. "I'll be back in the morning with breakfast."
"I'm not hungry."
"You will be." She paused at the door. "Elara—may I call you Elara?"
I shrugged. What did names matter anymore?
"The magic you're experiencing—it's not evil. Just misunderstood. Cassian's mother had it too, before she died. He knows more than he's letting on."
Before I could ask what she meant, she left. The door locked behind her with a soft click.
I was alone.
I walked to the window and looked out at the unfamiliar landscape. Dark forests. Jagged mountains. Storm clouds gathering overhead.
This was my life now. A prisoner in a foreign land, branded a witch, suspected of crimes I didn't commit.
The shadows around my hands pulsed, and for the first time, I wondered if Vex was right.
Maybe this power would destroy me from the inside.
I pressed my shadowed hands against the cold glass and whispered the question that terrified me most:
"What am I becoming?"
The shadows answered by spreading up my arms like ink in water.
And somewhere in the darkness outside my window, I swear I heard someone whisper back:
"Exactly what you were always meant to be."