Arcadia took a sip of tea as Hadassah’s body was violently flung back into the room. She scrambled across the floor, her back pressing against the wall, her eyes wide, and her breathing erratic. Her mind was struggling, her thoughts a tangled web of horror and disgust. That hadn’t been her body, yet she had felt every moment of it, every touch, every vile sensation. The lingering imprint of that woman’s touch felt like a poison seeping into her skin, and she clawed at herself, desperate to tear away the feeling. Fresh tears welled in her eyes as a broken, shuddering voice escaped her lips. ‘That was a human. A human. That monster was a human.’

  Arcadia observed her with a cool detachment. “It seems you have not decided,” she finally said.

  “Wait—” Hadassah croaked, but before she could protest, the floorboards beneath her seemed to dissolve, and she was falling again.

  This time, she crashed into a dark, cold room, her body slamming into the hard floor. She instinctively rolled to her side, groaning as pain radiated from the back of her head, where it had split open. Blood trickled from the wound, pooling on the marble floor beneath her.

  “You really think you can disobey me, Kaladin? Who are you waiting for? Leo, to save you?” A woman’s voice echoed, filled to the brim with mockery.

  Hadassah’s mind spun as she processed her new reality—she was Kaladin, her limbs weak and uncooperative, her skin pale against the marble floor now smeared with blood. She tried to crawl, her blood-slick fingers desperately reaching for any hold on the smooth surface. She dragged her bare body across the cold marble, but her escape was futile. She hadn’t made it far before her legs were seized, and she was pulled back with brute force.

  Terror filled her as the woman loomed over her, vivid and cruel, her blonde hair and piercing blue eyes searing into her mind. She wore shining armour, a sword gripped in her hand. Before Hadassah could react, the blade plunged into her abdomen, tearing through flesh and bone. She choked on a scream as white-hot pain erupted, the woman’s hateful gaze the last thing she saw as the sword lifted for another strike.

  ˋ?-?-?ˊ

  Arcadia watched as Hadassah re-emerged from the darkness, her body curled into a ball, trembling, tears mixing with snot as she struggled to register where she was. She lay there, unable to move, the urge to tear off her clothes and set herself ablaze flooding her mind—anything to erase the lingering, filthy sensation. She wanted the feeling to vanish; she wanted her world to end.

  Arcadia didn’t smile; her gaze softened with sorrow as she took a steadying breath.

  “Who is to blame, Hadassah?” She asked, her voice barely a whisper, though her words cut through the silence clearly.

  But Hadassah couldn’t answer. She was shaking, her tears falling harder as she choked on each breath. Her mind was filled with the memories—the helplessness of it all. ‘Kaladin… Zarek—how had they endured this?’ The thought clawed at her, and her crying grew louder, the horror spilling out in violent sobs.

  They had been powerless, unable to fight back. Humans had seen beastmen as nothing more than tools, and to beastmen, humans were the embodiment of unspeakable evil.

  Who deserved judgement?

  Arcadia waited in silence, watching Hadassah’s pain, until, finally, Hadassah’s sobs lessened. It took an hour before Hadassah could uncurl, before she could sit back at the table, her eyes now carrying a cold detachment—one shaped by loathing.

  “Who deserves to die, Hadassah?” Arcadia asked once more, her voice even.

  She saw the transformation in her sister’s gaze. This wasn’t anger, nor was it sadness. It was a quiet, settled conviction.

  Arcadia’s hand trembled around her teacup, but she steadied herself. She knew the weight of the question, and though Hadassah was still so young, there was no choice left. The time was now—before it was too late.

  Hadassah finally spoke, her voice hollow, each word like ice. She now understood what her sister had been trying to explain to her—what Arcadia wanted more than anything.

  “This world needs to be destroyed.”

  Arcadia’s grip loosened on her teacup.

  “…Finally,” she whispered.

  Hadassah felt her bones were weary, for she had seen more than she bargained for; even now, in the corner of her eyes, she could see the chains that had been wrapped around Zarek’s neck; she saw the glint of the dragon queen’s sword. She had only seen the lives of two people, just two. But that was enough; she did not need to see more to understand.

  “Why do you want this? Why must it be us?” Hadassah asked. Even if the world were wretched, even if it should not exist, why must it be her? Simply because of her lineage?

  “I wish there was someone else; I wish we were never brought into this world, but this is what you must do. You must sit on the throne of Emeris, and you must relinquish your life. There is no one else who can do it. Humans create weapons, and you will be the greatest weapon in our lineage. You are the daughter of the Great Queen of Emeris; you know of her legacy; you know of what you are capable of.”

  Her mother was a beast in human form; she had studied her as a historical figure all her life; how could she not know of her infamy?

  Seemingly stepping into this world, she had monstrous strength that could split a dragon in half with her bare hands. She was an oddity, but she claimed to be human. Her powers were not founded in anything logical, and she subjugated an entire race of ferals into slavery. She was cruel; she was vindictive; she had six mates, and apparently, one of them was her father.

  No matter how she thought of it, how was she related to a woman like that? The only reason humanity fell was because she disappeared; they said she ran away or might have died, but Hadassah did not know. Her father spoke as if she had simply stepped out of this world the same way she came in.

  She was the Great Queen of Emeris, the Mother of Ferals, but Hadassah was a nobody. No power, no strength, no particular talents—she could make artefacts, but what then? In the face of true strength, she was nothing.

  Hadassah was not one to seek power; she had never considered she would need to.

  “Do you think if you do not embrace your birthright, your future will be easy?” Arcadia’s words came again. “Even if not, you will never be able to drain your human blood from your body; you are human. And the moment you leave Rahn’s protection, you will die. If that is a life you are complacent with, then you do deserve to die.”

  Her words were cruel, but they were right; if she left this place, turning her face from power, then her life would eventually end.

  Hadassah remained silent; she felt a cold wind rush into the room as light penetrated the darkness around them. She looked up outside; it was snowing.

  The forest was covered in a blanket of white, and the previous bustling life of the forest had gone, leaving only quietness and wind.

  “I’m sorry, Hadassah, this is not fair on you.”

  Hadassah said nothing; she had no tears left to cry.

  “I have no power, Arcadia.”

  “My inheritance is here. It was made for you. You do not need to go through this world powerless; that was never your destiny.” But Hadassah knew, once she took on the inheritance, she would not be able to choose the course of her life any more; her future will be set in stone, but wasn’t that better than living such a useless existence?

  Arcadia was quiet for a second, then she spoke again. “I am glad I got to meet you, Hadassah; this will be the end of my soul. I do hope you can achieve what I could not.” She took another sip of her tea. “Also, that Harbinger of yours is quite cute.”

  It was a one-off comment, but at least a small smile graced Hadassah’s face, which pleased Arcadia. She wanted to at least see one more smile on her little sister’s face.

  They were sisters, but they had never met on a joyous occasion, and they never would.

  Because she was long dead.

  The line of Emeris would end with Hadassah and the dragon queen.

  “I do wish, I at least got to sit with all of you, around a table, together.” Hadassah said under her breath.

  Arcadia’s smile warmed at the thought.

  She knew their family from the start should not have existed, so it is only right their lineage ends here.

  “Before you were born, Leo was quite strict; I assume he is still strict; he used to tutor me on healing. He said our second father was a great healer, so I should follow in his footsteps.”

  Hadassah listened silently.

  “I wish you were there, Hadassah; you should have seen Emeris; it was beautiful; it was our home.”

  The scene of the forest changed once more, and Hadassah saw it—a beautiful castle built into a hillside. The scene changed to show a woman; she was magnificent, with long brown curly hair just like hers, and brown eyes; she looked small standing next to a taller red haired man. She was wearing bracelets on her wrists and wore light fabrics that draped over her freely. She was covered in gold, as if it were her favourite colour—her waist, neck, ankles, everywhere.

  She walked through open hallways, the scene of an endless sea through the open arches. The man by her was wearing black silver armour and walking by her side as if guarding her.

  And eventually the sound of childish laughter filled the place as a young girl came running up to her. She lifted the child up in her arms and hugged her dearly. Hadassah could not hear anything said, but the child was Arcadia.

  “These are my happiest memories.” She said, and Hadassah’s body wanted to walk right through into the scene to meet her for herself. She looked so beautiful, her mother.

  And then, a man came walking with another child. It was her father; he was carrying a toddler, but it wasn’t her. He was smiling so care-freely. “Leo was a father to all of us.”

  At the mention of all of us, the scene changed once more—five women. They were standing by each other, though stationary; this wasn’t a scene, merely a still image of her sisters.

  Arcadia was second in line; the first—the dragon queen—was a beautiful woman with blonde hair and blue eyes; she was wearing armour underneath deep red robes with a crown on her head. She looked fierce, as if she were born to make the world her footstool, and she did accomplish that. But that woman had murdered her sister and massacred her people.

  “I wish I could show you more, but my soul is spent.” Arcadia said as the scene faded, leaving behind the winter of Valdemar. Hadassah turned to Arcadia; she looked older now, and her pretty black hair was white, but her skin had not aged. “Why did she do it?” Hadassah finally asked.

  Arcadia smiled as the room they were in began to disintegrate, pieces becoming gold dust. “That, you will have to see for yourself and judge.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  That was the last thing she said, before the illusion vanished and she was left sitting on the cold stone floor alone.

  ˋ?-?-?ˊ

  Rahn’s fists pounded down relentlessly, each blow shattering bone, turning flesh to mush beneath his knuckles. Kaladin’s face was barely recognisable—a bloody mess of broken skin and splintered bone. Blood spattered up Rahn’s arms, his knuckles scraping raw, but he felt none of it—nothing but the frenzied satisfaction of tearing Kaladin apart in Hadassah’s name. Each whisper of her name passed his lips like a mantra, his vision blurred, overtaken by a deep, obsessive drive.

  And then—something jolted him, a shock like ice, pulling him from his illusion.

  He blinked, and the bloodied scene vanished. Instead, before him stood Hadassah, her now empty eyes piercing into his.

  The real Hadassah.

  He could still feel the phantom warmth of blood on his hands, still feel the remnants of that obsessive need beating in his chest.

  “Rahn,” she said, her voice firm, breaking through the remnants of his fixation. “The illusion is going to collapse soon. We have to go, now.”

  His breaths came hard and fast, his mind struggling to grasp her presence, the shift from the gore-soaked illusion to her gaze. Her hand pressed against his arm, and slowly, he uncurled his fists, fingers trembling as he held onto the realness of her touch.

  “We don’t have time for this,” she pressed, a quiet urgency underlying her words. “Come with me; the others will be released soon.”

  A slow nod broke through his confusion; he stumbled forward, his vision clearing as the raw, obsessive edge gave way to something else—a need to follow, to stay close. Hadassah grabbed his hand and began to rush out of the room they were in. Rahn felt his hand warm up at her actions; after all, his position could not be easily shaken by a rabbit.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. It’s the both of us.’ His heart filled with elation as he watched her drag him away.

  Hadassah rushed through empty corridors and hallways lined with rusted armour and decayed paintings. She did not notice the strange smile on Rahn’s face; she was more concerned with needing to get the inheritance before the others; she could not let it, under any circumstances, fall into the hands of the dragon queen.

  They did not come across any other precarious situations; it was as though the halls had opened up to them and them alone as they hurried through the empty castle.

  Eventually they came up to a large set of doors; it was at the centre of the castle with multiple open hallways connecting to it.

  “This has to be the throne room; it has to be here!”

  Rahn pushed open the large doors.

  Hadassah stepped in first, and the moment her feet touched the ground, she felt it. Resonating beneath her, the floor glowed instantly, and circles of inscriptions circling the room lit up in a light blue. Hadassah marvelled as she stepped out, but her interest was short-lived.

  At the far end of the throne room, bathed in the flickering candlelight, sat the throne of Arcadia. It was a monumental seat, grand and intimidating, made of dark stone and twisted dead branches.

  On the throne was the corpse of a woman.

  Draped in flowing white robes, a ghostly figure, unmoving, and unnerving. A veil of thin fabric obscured her face, casting her features into shadow, but her face was the least of their worries. Six swords pierced through her body, pinning her to the throne. Each blade was embedded deeply through bone and into the throne itself—two through her shoulders, two through her thighs, and one through her abdomen and one through her head. The wounds were bloodless, but their placement was unmistakably cruel, locking her in place and sealing her fate to that seat as if she were meant to remain there for all eternity.

  That was Arcadia

  Hadassah stood rooted in her spot; this is how she was murdered?

  It was too gruesome; where did the blood go? It was as if she had been killed and drained before being placed back on her throne.

  Hadassah took a deep breath; she would not turn away this time. She forced herself to take in the sight of the corpse, committing every detail to memory before moving quickly to read the writing on the wall. As she studied it, her gaze was drawn to the glowing circle on the floor. Some of the letters had dimmed, a small sliver of the circle appearing to fade, as though cut out. She watched for a moment, and more letters lost their glow.

  “This is time sensitive,” she realised, urgency rising in her voice. “It looks like something will happen once it runs out! We need to be quick!”

  Hadassah scanned the walls frantically, eyes darting from one ancient phrase to another, but she quickly realised there was a big problem; the text had been scratched out, completely hidden, and illegible. She wanted to scream in fury; someone had purposely erased any clues to the artefact. Now she was trapped in a room with a circle counting down to god knows what, and she was furious. Nothing had gone her way, and she was exhausted by this cursed castle.

  Part of her wanted to leave, to pretend none of this had happened, to run away. But every time she blinked, she saw flashes of her experiences with Arcadia. She was terrified of waking up to find herself in the body of Zarek or Kaladin, unable to endure the lives they’d led, unable to bear the injustices they had suffered under humans. She hated herself for even considering turning a blind eye to it all.

  She needed Arcadia’s inheritance, no matter the cost. She couldn’t keep living as if nothing had happened. She didn’t know if she had the courage to face death, but at the very least she would drag herself to that throne in Emeris—as penance.

  Compared to what she had seen others suffer, she had lived a peaceful life for twenty years. ‘You should not be afraid,’ she told herself. ‘Do not be afraid, Hadassah. Death is nothing compared to the suffering of others.’ She felt immense guilt; she had lived with Zarek for six months, and she did not even bother to know, and Kaladin, she had let him walk himself out of her life like a god damned idiot. She cared for Vivian and Esther because they were half-castes and blamed the others for not caring about them.

  How pathetic.

  She felt pathetic.

  A sudden slap echoed through the hallway, and Hadassah’s cheek flared red in response. She slapped herself again and again, and again—until the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She barely noticed her surroundings fading away until Rahn’s hand gripped her wrist, stopping her. His hold was tight, firm, trembling slightly.

  His eyes were wide, afraid.

  But she didn’t care; she wanted to feel it—the pain they had felt, the agony that had seeped into her every thought. But no matter how hard she tried, it wasn’t enough.

  There was no way to atone for such grievous sins.

  Hadassah didn’t even look at Rahn. “I didn’t even allow you to speak… for six months. How? How can you still put up with me?” Her voice broke, rising into a scream, words spilling out raw and bitter. She knew she shouldn’t have shouted—she’d never raised her voice at him before. But he didn’t let go of her hand. He wouldn’t let her turn away.

  When she finally met his gaze, he saw it—guilt.

  Overwhelming, relentless guilt.

  Hadassah felt the truth hit her like a blow. She had willingly turned a blind eye because, deep down, she simply hadn’t cared enough. She hadn’t cared whether Rahn wanted to talk, didn’t care if he wanted to pursue something else, and didn’t care what he might feel. She was human. She was exactly the same as the rest—selfish, blind, indifferent.

  Who did she think she was?

  Rahn slowly lowered her hand placing it on his chest; it was beating in sync with hers.

  And he finally spoke to her.

  “It’s just the both of us; I am the only one who understands you, Hadassah.”

  Truly, on the continent, no one would be able to hear her as much as he could, and she knew that, and for once, she let him pull her close and kiss her.

  It was a short kiss, barely a kiss, just a brush on her lips, but for once he could say what he wanted to say. “No matter what you do, I will never blame you.”

  Those were not words she wanted to hear.

  “Don’t say that; I was wrong, Rahn! I should not have done that! Be mad at me! Scold me!” She wanted him to retaliate, but he did not want to.

  “But I cannot do that, Hadassah; I could never harm you.”

  She stared at him; she loved to hear his words, but she knew deep down, what he felt was misguided.

  Rahn had never been able to speak to anyone but her, sharing her emotions as if they were his own, and she’d moulded his life however she wished. Whatever he felt now—it couldn’t be love. It couldn’t be. He would never know what it meant to love freely, because he was bound to her as a Harbinger. He was shackled to her, and she’d held the chains.

  Hadassah felt herself crumbling, something inside her fracturing beyond repair. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t abandon him, not now, not with the damage she’d already done. Taking a shaky breath, she forced a smile through it all. If there was no escaping the responsibility of him, then she would accept it. He was hers, and she was his. They would stay together, bound, until the ends of time.

  ‘It’s just the both of us.’

  Then, the heavy doors burst open with such force that the doors broke off their hinges falling to the floor raising up dust. Hadassah spun around, her breath catching. A figure stepped through, her silhouette casting a long, dark shadow across the room.

  It was Drucilla.

  The first to arrive.

  They were out of time.

  “Well, well,” Drucilla drawled; her voice seemed more menacing now. “Seems like you’ve stumbled upon something rather important. Isn’t this quite the place?”

  Drucilla looked down on the floor and frowned before looking up at Hadassah.

  “I see, this is troublesome.”

  Hadassah’s pulse quickened, her heart beating wildly in her chest as Drucilla’s words sank in. The Dragon Queen’s daughter took slow steps, closing the space between them. She held her glaive like an extension of herself, the steel tip scraping ominously across the stone floor with each step.

  “I find this quite interesting,” Drucilla’s voice was low, each syllable like a challenge as she approached. She cracked her neck, rolling her shoulders with a nonchalance that belied the tension in the air. “In the throne room, there’s a rune inscribed on the floor.”

  Hadassah swallowed, her body tensing as Drucilla took another step forward.

  “But, from what I understand,” Drucilla continued, her eyes glinting, “that rune can’t be activated unless there’s a princess of the Emeris line present. And as you can see, Arcadia is dead.” She raised her blade, the steel gleaming menacingly in the dim light. Her eyes bore into Hadassah, unblinking and cold.

  “So,” she said, her voice sharpening with a deadly edge, “who the fuck are you?”

  “Ah something like that exists?” Hadassah said looking at the floor, so this thing was activated because of her. Then, possibly, it wasn’t a bad thing?

  Still, she had to admit, she did well the past six months. She reached into her hair, and the rabbit ears vanished as she let the clips fall to the floor. She was tired of pretending to be a rabbit anyway.

  Before she could do anything more, she heard Rahn’s voice, which still startled her to listen to.

  “Use me all you need to, Hadassah.”

  ‘That’s right.. I have a Harbinger.’

  “Rahn, go all out.”

  Before Drucilla could move, the room descended into darkness.

  She realised she was standing alone, and could not see, smell, or hear anything, as if she were in an endless void.

  She pushed her senses to the max, taking a stance, her eyes darting back and forth as she was waiting for something, anything.

  Shit.

  This was bad, she tried to transform, but it was as though she were in another realm. She felt cold sweat prickle up her back, and after some time of waiting she decided to speak.

  “Stop playing hide and seek and come out!”

  As her words dropped, dozens of dark tendrils emerged from the shadows, each with glowing, malevolent eyes that tracked Drucilla’s every movement. The eyes blinked, shifting and following her as if they were alive, studying her, waiting for a single misstep.

  Drucilla’s instincts kicked in as she twirled her glaive, her gaze darting around, trying to pinpoint the true source of the danger amidst the growing mass of shadows. She lunged and struck at the eyes, each blow dispersing the shadow momentarily, only for it to reform again in an endless cycle of darkness.

  In this domain, Rahn was everywhere and nowhere at once. His shadows taunted her, closing in as though the very room was breathing, tightening around her in waves of suffocating black. Drucilla fought on, her movements growing more desperate, and as Rahn’s domain constricted, the multitude of eyes closed in, watching her every move.

  For every shadow she destroyed, ten more would emerge, as if mocking her strength, daring her to try and conquer the infinite dark. Rahn’s voice echoed through the domain, soft yet sinister, as he relished in his advantage, every word laced with an unsettling calm, “How long can you last?”

  ˋ?-?-?ˊ

  Hadassah approached the throne, her hands trembling as she gripped the sword embedded in the corpse’s thigh. She knew if she found nothing on the walls, she’d have to resort to trial and error. Even if she needed to pull apart this place, she would find the inheritance.

  As she pulled, Kaladin’s voice broke through her concentration.

  “Hadassah!”

  She froze, glancing over her shoulder. Standing at the door, apart from the swirling black sphere that contained Rahn and Drucilla’s struggle, was Kaladin.

  “Hadassah, what are you doing?”

  She looked at him, her expression resolute. “Why do you ask, Kaladin?”

  “Do not harm Drucilla! Please!”

  His words hit her like a blow; is that all he had to say to her? “Why?”

  “If you harm her, I will have no choice but to kill you!”

  Hadassah’s heart twisted painfully. So, that was it. She looked at him, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “Do you not want to kill me, Kaladin? It would be convenient if you did.” Her voice was fragile, as if her words were balancing on the edge of a blade. “Or do you prefer if Drucilla kills me instead?”

  “No,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Just run away, Hadassah. I will take care of everything.”

  But his words only ignited a bitter despair in her chest. How much longer did he intend to protect her, to keep her hidden away like some precious relic? She’d seen his past—the weight he carried, the sacrifices he’d made. She should feel grateful, even honoured he wanted to protect her, but all she felt was despair.

  “Kaladin, this can’t go on.” Her voice trembled, pleading. “If you feel anything for me, I want to know. I need to know now.”

  If he did, she would fight with him and find a way to free him from the Dragon Queen. But he needed to tell her, to give her something to hold on to.

  He looked away, his face contorted with agony as if he were going against his very being to say his next words. “I… I can’t, Hadassah. I’m bound.”

  She had no heart left to rip; the words she’d been holding back broke free. “Rahn.” Her voice wavered as she commanded him, and the black sphere fell. Drucilla stumbled forward, battered and bloodied, her glaive embedded in the floor, supporting her.

  Drucilla laughed, a sound laced with spite and exhaustion, forcing herself to stand. “Kaladin, you will pay dearly for this betrayal. You had a human under your nose, and you hid her? Do you think my mother a fool?”

  Hadassah remained silent, her gaze shifting to Kaladin, searching for something—anything—she could cling to. Did he want her to stay, to fight for him? Or was he asking her to let go?

  “Your Highness—” he began, but Drucilla cut him off, her voice sharp with fury.

  “You must have lost your mind, Kaladin. Have you forgotten who you are?”

  Kaladin’s face paled, fear flickering in his eyes. Hadassah had never seen him look this vulnerable, and it made her instinctively shift, as if to protect him. But Drucilla scoffed, her grip tightening as she pulled out a scroll from within her robes.

  Kaladin’s eyes widened in horror. “Your Highness!” he cried. He turned to Hadassah, and she saw it—he wanted her to run, to escape that instance. But as she stood beside the throne, he knew she wouldn’t leave.

  Drucilla unfurled the scroll, her voice cold and unwavering. “Kaladin, General of Blasphemy, your orders on behalf of the Dragon queen, are to kill the human.” A formal order, it seemed Drucilla had it for instances such as these. With a formal order, he could not decline.

  Time seemed to stop around Hadassah, her world narrowing to the space between her and Kaladin. She knew what this meant; she knew he’d be forced to follow. And yet, she couldn’t move; she couldn’t bring herself to turn away from him.

  “Rahn,” she called again, her voice a whisper of finality. She wouldn’t fight for someone who didn’t want her, even if it tore her apart.

  They stood on opposite sides, and he could never hold her as he wanted.

  “Yes, your Highness.” Kaladin unsheathed his sword, and with a heavy heart he lunged at Hadassah.