Lysandra´s heart pounded in her chest.
The prince's words still rang in her ears.
If you free it, you take my place.
She wanted to deny it. To tell him he was wrong. But the truth sat heavy in her chest, colder than the night air.
Her curse was linked to his.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe. "You knew this the whole time."
The prince didn't answer immediately. His golden eyes burned, but his face remained unreadable. "Yes."
Lysandra clenched her fists. "And you weren't going to tell me?"
"It wouldn't have changed anything," he said, his voice clipped. "You think I wanted you involved in this?" He exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. "The moment you were marked, the choice was made for you."
A bitter laugh escaped her. "So that's it? I'm just supposed to accept that I was cursed to replace you?"
A flicker of something crossed his face—guilt.
Before he could respond, the air shifted.
A pulse of magic surged through the ruins. The chains quivered, reacting to her presence. The god stirred.
Lysandra.
Her name curled around her like smoke.
The prince moved in an instant, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the glowing cracks in the stone. "We need to leave."
But it was too late.
The whispers deepened, turning into something more than sound. A voice that reached through her bones.
Come to me.
Lysandra gasped as a force wrapped around her mind, dragging her into darkness.
—
She stood in a space that was not a space. A realm of nothingness, shadow and void stretching endlessly.
And in the center—
A figure sat among broken chains.
It wasn't monstrous. Not yet.
The god looked human.
A man draped in tattered robes, silver hair spilling over his shoulders. But his face was obscured, shifting between shapes, between centuries of forgotten existence.
Lysandra's breath hitched. She had never seen him before, and yet—
He felt familiar.
His voice was a whisper against her skull. "You came."
She clenched her jaw, keeping her fear locked behind her ribs. "I didn't have a choice."
A low chuckle. "No. You didn't."
The chains around him tightened, binding his arms. The sigils carved into them pulsed faintly.
"You seek answers," the god mused. "And yet, you already know them."
Lysandra frowned. "If you're expecting me to pity you, it's not going to happen."
"I do not need pity." The god tilted his head. "I need a vessel."
Her stomach twisted.
"I won't free you."
Another chuckle. "Won't you?"
The shadows around her shifted. The chains binding him pulsed again—and so did the cursed mark on her palm.
Lysandra gasped as pain seared through her veins.
A link.
The curse was more than just a contract—it was a key.
Her hands trembled as she took a step back. "You—"
"You already knew." The god's voice was almost amused. "The moment you touched the chains, you felt it, didn't you?"
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
The curse wasn't just tying her to the prince.
It was tying her to the god.
She had been chosen.
Not as a prisoner.
As a replacement.
Lysandra's breath came in short gasps.
There had to be a way out. A way to break this without dooming herself.
The god's voice softened. "You have a choice, Lysandra."
Her gaze snapped up.
"Stay," he murmured, "and become like me." His shifting face held something almost like sorrow. "Or take my place, and I will go free."
A cold dread curled in her stomach.
He was serious.
"Think carefully," he said. "The chains are weakening. Soon, there will be no choice left to make."
The vision shattered.
—
Lysandra hit the ground with a gasp, her lungs burning as she sucked in air.
The prince was kneeling beside her, his hands gripping her shoulders. "What happened?"
She stared up at him, chest heaving.
The truth clawed at her throat.
She couldn't say it.
She couldn't tell him.
Because if she did—
He would try to stop her.
And something in her heart whispered that it was already too late.