That night, sleep came with claws.
Celestia lay on silk sheets dyed in the blood of her enemies, the moonlight slicing across her bare skin. Her palace stood silent, guarded by assassins and layered in enchantments, yet her heart pounded like she was prey… not queen.
She dreamed.
But not like before.
This dream was more like a memory stitched together with shadows.
She stood in a crimson forest, naked under a blood-red moon. Her body wasn't hers—it shimmered, changed—her fingers curling into claws, her skin rippling into soft white fur. A silver tail lashed behind her, and her lips—
They weren't lips anymore.
They were fangs.
And in front of her stood a man cloaked in flame and thunder, his eyes burning like a storm had fallen in love with the ocean. Kael. But not Kael.
Older. Wilder. Drenched in magic and desire.
"You promised me," he said, stepping toward her. "You said you'd wait, even if it took a thousand years."
"I don't remember," she whispered in the dream. "I don't want to remember."
"But your body does." He reached out, his touch ghosting over her neck. "Every time I say your name, you burn, don't you?"
Celestia moaned. Soft. Helpless.
Her dream-self leaned into him like gravity had changed.
Their lips touched.
And the world exploded in heat and color. Her body arched, consumed by something between pleasure and pain. Her fox spirit howled from the depths of her soul.
And then—
She woke up.
Sweating. Gasping. A strangled sound in her throat.
Her silk sheets were burning.
Literally smoldering beneath her thighs.
Celestia stared at her hands.
They were glowing.
Pale gold light pulsing from her palms.
"What the hell is happening to me…" she whispered.
And from the dark corner of the room, something moved.
A shadow.
Or a man.
Kael.
Leaning against the wall of her bedroom, watching her with eyes that gleamed like secrets.
"Told you you'd come to me," he said softly. "Even if it was just in your dreams."
Celestia shot upright, the silk sheet barely clinging to her skin.
"How the fuck did you get in here?" Her voice was steel—but her body betrayed her, heat pulsing at the memory of his lips in the dream.
Kael didn't answer. He just stepped closer, slow, like a predator who knew exactly when to pounce.
"You burned your sheets," he murmured, his gaze dropping briefly to the scorched fabric tangled around her thighs. "Do you understand what that means?"
She reached for the dagger beneath her pillow. It wasn't there.
Kael held it up casually. "Too slow."
"Get. Out."
"No," he said, stepping into her space. "Because now that it's started, we don't have time to play pretend."
She grabbed the edge of her nightstand and shoved it toward him, wood splintering as it crashed against his shoulder.
He didn't even flinch.
Instead, he raised a hand—and her wrists snapped together, bound in glowing silk-like chains made of pure magic. They hovered in the air, soft as shadow, unbreakable as steel.
"You son of a—"
Kael moved fast, pressing her against the wall before she could kick him. Not with cruelty. But with fire. His chest against hers, his breath wicked against her lips.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"You're becoming her again. And it's killing you because you don't know how to control it."
"Then teach me," she spat, defiant despite her chains. "If you're so obsessed with me."
Kael's lips brushed her ear, his voice trembling with hunger and something darker.
"You were mine, once. And I swore I'd never lose you again."
She felt it—deep, scorching, in her gut.
Not lust. Not fear.
Recognition.
He wasn't just some mage.
He was the one her soul remembered.
And that terrified her more than anything else.
Celestia's breath came out shaky.
The chains glowed hotter the more she struggled, yet the look in Kael's eyes—gods, it wasn't domination.
It was devotion.
Unholy. Starved. Worship twisted with madness.
"You think chaining me will win me?" she hissed.
"No," he said. "But it'll keep you from burning yourself alive."
His palm hovered inches above her heart, the space where her fox magic had flared.
She stilled, just for a second, as he murmured words in a tongue older than time—Ethyrian magic. Soft, aching syllables that crawled under her skin.
And then—he touched her.
Fire met fire.
Her back arched, eyes wide, lips parted as her body reacted without permission. A scream built in her throat, but not from pain—from the sudden, wicked pleasure of being understood.
Kael didn't smile.
He looked tortured.
"This magic was sealed," he said hoarsely. "Deep inside you. Locked away when you were cursed and reborn. But your soul... it still remembers mine."
"Lies," she gasped. "You're just another obsessed mage playing god."
But even as she said it, her body trembled.
And Kael leaned in, whispering like a sinner confessing in a church of shadows.
"Then why are you wet, Queen?"
The silence cracked.
The chains pulsed brighter.
Celestia's pupils blew wide, her mind raging against her own betrayal.
Kael kissed her—not soft. Not sweet.
It was war. It was ruin. It was fire meeting its match.
And she kissed him back like a blade sinking into flesh.
Kael's kiss was like the first drop of rain in a storm—a promise of something terrible and beautiful. His hands moved with a fevered desperation, pulling at her chains, yanking at the barriers that kept them apart.
"You're still fighting it."
His voice was thick, rough with desire and something else, something darker.
Celestia's breath hitched as she felt his magic seep deeper into her veins. The chains around her wrists shuddered—he was making them burn in time with her pulse, a slow, torturous rhythm.
Her fingers twitched, aching to reach for him, to break free of the restraints, to let the fire consume her as it had once before.
"You think you're the only one cursed?" she spat, but it came out as a growl, laced with something primal. "I've been cursed by my bloodline. My throne is a crown of thorns. I know exactly what it means to be damned."
Kael's lips brushed against her throat, and for the briefest moment, he hesitated—his breath warm against her skin, his fingers gripping her waist as though he were afraid to break her.
Then, without warning, he bared his teeth and sank them into her neck.
It wasn't a bite of lust or hunger.
It was a claiming.
The world crashed in a rush of sensations as she felt his power flood into her—like an electric shock coursing through her veins. Her body convulsed, a sound escaping her that wasn't human, wasn't even her own.
It was the spirit inside her.
"There it is," Kael murmured, the words vibrating through her very core. "That's the truth I've been searching for."
Her body arched against him, every nerve alive, every part of her screaming for release—release from the chains, release from the memories, release from the curse.
But Celestia wasn't sure if she wanted to break free. Not from him. Not now.
Her hand reached up and tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her nails scraping across his scalp.
"You're insane," she gasped, breathless. "You're a damned fool, Kael."
"Then why," he growled, his voice rough with desire, "do I feel like I've waited my entire life for you?"
And in that moment, Celestia realized the truth.
She had never been alone. Not even when she thought she was.