The Shadow Keep feels alive.
It whispers when it's quiet, creaks when I walk too loudly, almost like it has memories of its own. Lately, those memories seem heavy.
I leave my room unsure of where I'm headed, but I know I can't just sit there anymore. The visions haven't gone away, and neither have my questions.
Kael moves around like a ghost, and I trace his steps long after he's gone. His sadness hangs in the air, making everything feel heavy, like his grief has seeped into the stones themselves.
I keep thinking about that child.
The way Kael crumbled in my vision and his magic exploded like a dam. Those images are burned into my mind, and it's tough to tell what's a dream and what's just a memory.
But they aren't my memories.
That's what makes it worse.
I'm drawn to the west wing. The door used to be locked, but now it creaks open when I touch it. Old magic seems to give way easily, like a breath released.
The hallway is narrow and cold, leading to a room that smells like the start of winter, dry and dead.
Inside, everything is covered in linen. Furniture hidden, paintings shrouded in white like ghosts hiding away. But one stands out.
A portrait.
Kael when he was younger. He's smiling, and beside him is a woman with bright, lively eyes.
The same woman from the mirror.
There's a plaque below the frame with words I can almost make out. They twist and turn like they know I'm watching.
I touch the letters, and they respond in my mind:
"To trust the light is to forget the darkness that walks beside it."
I didn't get it until I found the journal.
It's tucked away in a chest under the portrait, wrapped in red velvet and bound in worn leather. The seal is broken someone's opened it before but didn't finish.
I do.
And I uncover it all.
The entries are raw and jagged, not meant for anyone else to read. Kael's handwriting gets more frantic, like he's trying to outrun the truth with ink.
I sit down and read.
They said it was safe. That my bond with Lira was enough. That the priestess's blessing would hold. I believed that.
I was wrong to trust a court built on lies.
They wanted power. I was just a tool.
Lira was the sacrifice.
My hands shake as I turn the pages.
*The binding ceremony was supposed to bring peace. They said the magic would flow through us, light and shadow combined. But they used blood. Not hers. Mine.
They lied.
They knew shadow magic would take the closest soul if not contained.
And they gave me hers.
The next few pages are stained dark, ink blurred by something wet. Tears? I can't tell. I feel like I'm drowning in his sorrow.
He wasn't cursed by fate, but by betrayal.
By the very people who should have looked after him. They used him, filled his head with false promises, and when the darkness swallowed Lira, Kael was the one blamed.
I read until my eyes hurt.
Now I understand.
The curse didn't come from evil; it came from grief, from power misused, and trust shattered.
And Kael has been carrying it all alone.
I'm still there when I hear the door behind me.
Footsteps.
I know it's him before he says anything.
"You weren't meant to find that."
I turn around.
Kael stands in the doorway, with shadows wrapping around him like an old coat. His jaw is tense, his gaze unreadable, but I can sense the burden on him.
"You lied," I say quietly.
"No. I withheld."
"That amounts to the same thing."
His breath catches. For once, there's no clever comeback or cold distance, just a heavy silence.
I hold up the journal. "Why did you write it?"
"So I wouldn't forget," he replies. "So I couldn't pretend it didn't happen."
"And yet you hid it."
"I wasn't ready to remember."
I stand up slowly. "And now?"
He stays silent.
I step closer, feeling the tension hum between us.
"You weren't born dark," I say.
His eyes meet mine. "No."
"They made you this way."
"They made me choose this. To survive."
The shadows behind him tighten, as if sensing something big is about to happen. Kael clenches his fists.
"Every day I feel it," he admits. "The pull, the hunger. It whispers to me, trying to make me forget her. Forget who I was."
"But you haven't."
His eyes flicker.
"No," he breathes. "But sometimes… I wish I could."
That confession hits me hard.
Because I know what it feels like to carry something so painful that you'd give anything just to breathe without feeling like you're drowning.
I look at him in a new way.
Not as a prince or a monster, but as a man who's been cracked open and never healed.
"I won't forget for you," I say. "But I'll remember with you if you let me."
Kael looks at me sharply, cautiously. "Why?"
I step even closer, and the air between us is electric.
"Because I think you were meant for more than this curse. And maybe I was meant to be here for something beyond just peace."
He's still as a rock. His voice is rough.
"It could kill you."
"I know."
He nods once and then walks away without saying anything else.
But this time, I don't feel left behind.
This time, it feels like a door has opened.
And I've stepped through it.