The parchment trembled in Seraphina's hand long after the summit chamber had emptied.
She stood alone in her quarters, the heavy oak door bolted shut behind her. Outside, the fortress bustled with renewed energy—troops mobilizing, banners unfurled, scouts dispatched toward the eastern front. Auren's alliance had taken root in blood and fear, but it was holding. For now.
And yet her world felt far from steady.
The note sat on her war table, flattened, but the words still echoed like a whisper in her skull:
"The dead remember. Do not trust him."
Her father's handwriting. The unmistakable, angular script carved into her earliest memories—the man who raised her to lead, who taught her that honor was fire and loyalty its match.
He had died two years ago in the Siege of Hollowrest. She had buried him herself.
So how was this possible?
The assassin had carried the message sewn into her inner sleeve. Hidden so carefully it couldn't have been random. It had been meant for Seraphina. Specifically. And its timing—on the eve of the alliance—was no coincidence.
A trap? A warning? A cruel manipulation?
She didn't know what terrified her more.
A sharp knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts.
She didn't answer.
The knock came again. This time accompanied by a voice—calm, precise.
"Auren."
Seraphina hesitated, then unbolted the door.
He stood there in his black cloak, eyes shadowed, hands behind his back. The corridor behind him was silent. No guards. No theatrics.
"You should rest," he said. "Tomorrow we begin mobilization. The Chasm Line won't hold itself."
"I'm not tired," she replied evenly. "Come in."
He stepped inside, gaze flicking briefly over the open note on the table.
She watched for a reaction. There wasn't one.
"You recognized the seal," she said.
He didn't deny it.
"I recognize the handwriting," she pressed. "It's my father's."
"Or someone imitating it," he replied. "The Blackened Crown thrives on manipulation. You saw that assassin. Every move meant to destabilize us."
Seraphina folded her arms. "You're deflecting."
"I'm strategizing."
She turned away from him. "Don't play games with me, Auren. Not here. Not with this."
"I'm not." His voice softened. "But I will remind you that your father died during a siege orchestrated by the Crown. And their Shadows have a long memory."
She rounded on him. "Then how do they have his handwriting? His sigil? They didn't just forge a note, Auren. They reached into my past and pulled out something real."
His jaw tightened.
She took a slow step toward him, her firelight eyes boring into his. "Tell me the truth. Did you know him?"
The silence between them thickened.
Finally, Auren exhaled. "Yes."
Seraphina's heart stumbled.
"We were allies, once," he said. "Before the fall of Merrow. Before he became the Flame General."
"You never told me."
"Because I thought it would make you trust me less."
Her eyes narrowed. "And now?"
"Now I realize it's too late for that."
She wanted to scream. To strike him. To tear down every carefully built thread of their alliance. But the strategist in her paused—looked deeper.
He hadn't denied it. He hadn't lied.
And that terrified her more than if he had.
"What did you do?" she asked quietly. "To him."
Auren's gaze dropped.
"He died protecting the last surviving outpost on the Hollowrest Ridge. But it wasn't the Blackened Crown that broke the siege. It was me."
Seraphina froze.
"I gave the enemy the path into the canyon," Auren continued. "A tactical trade to ensure a larger victory for the western kingdoms. I didn't know he was still there."
She stared at him in horror. "You—sacrificed him?"
"I sacrificed a position," he said coldly. "Not a man. I didn't know it was his command."
"But you never told me," she said. "You let me believe he died a hero's death."
"He did." Auren's voice cracked. "He held the line long enough for us to win the battle. But I won't pretend I'm innocent. I failed him. And I failed you."
The storm inside her roared—but it was grief now, not just rage. It hollowed her out.
She turned her back to him again, needing the space, the air, the firelight.
"Why would the enemy send that message?" she whispered. "What do they gain from shattering us like this?"
Auren's voice came from behind, quiet and sharp. "Because they know you are my anchor."
That pulled her up short.
He stepped closer—not touching her, but close enough that his presence wrapped around her like a shadow.
"They know that without you, I become the monster they claim I am. And without me, you burn yourself alive for vengeance. Together, we are dangerous. Apart, we are vulnerable."
She hated that he was right.
She hated that part of her still trusted him—still needed him.
"Will you lie to me again?" she asked, voice trembling.
"No."
"Swear it."
"I swear it," he said. "On what's left of my soul."
Seraphina turned slowly. The firelight cast his face in flickering shades—monster, man, lover, traitor. She couldn't name what he was anymore.
But she saw something else in his eyes. Regret. And something rarer.
Fear.
"You're afraid," she said.
"Of you?" he asked with a bitter smile. "Always."
She reached past him and picked up the note. "If the Crown is reaching into the grave… then they know more about us than we think."
"They always have," Auren replied.
"But this—" She pointed to the ink. "This wasn't a bluff. Someone wanted me to know the truth."
And that meant someone in the enemy's ranks had access to secrets they shouldn't.
Memories.
Relationships.
Histories.
Someone was playing a deeper game.
"Then it's time we dig deeper," Auren said. "No more half-truths. No more shadows."
She nodded once.
But as they stood in uneasy silence, another knock sounded at the door.
This time, it was urgent.
Seraphina unbolted it.
A soldier stood panting in the hall, his face pale.
"My lady—Lord Veyric's war camp outside the eastern ridge—there's been an attack. No survivors. But they left something behind."
He held out a bundle.
Seraphina unwrapped it—and her breath vanished.
It was her father's war pendant. The one she had buried him with.
Fresh blood still stained the chain.
Someone is unearthing the dead—and they want Seraphina to know her past is far from buried.