Chapter 3 The Awakening Oath

The silence after his disappearance wasn't peaceful. It was loaded. A trap strung tight. And Seraphina could still feel the echo of the stranger's words lodged in her chest like splinters of cold steel.

"I have waited twenty-one years..."

Killian's hands tightened at his sides, his control a taut leash ready to snap. Not rage. Worse. Calculation. The kind that preceded war.

Seraphina spoke first. "You knew him, didn't you?"

"I knew of him," Killian said without turning. His voice had dropped low and lethal. "He was supposed to be dead. Sealed under nine layers of blood spells by my ancestors."

"And now he's walking your halls like a ghost with a vendetta," she snapped, pulse still roaring in her ears.

He finally looked at her. "No. Not a ghost. Something worse."

Her skin prickled with warning. "What's worse than a ghost?"

Killian took her hand-not gently, but firmly. "Something that remembers everything."

---

Back in his penthouse office, silence reigned. The walls were lined with blackened glass and rare spellsteel runes, artifacts humming faintly behind secure vaults. Seraphina stood near the towering window, arms folded tight, her eyes distant but burning. She didn't ask questions immediately-she let the space simmer.

Killian leaned against the edge of his desk, shirt undone to his sternum, tie discarded, tension bleeding through every inch of him. The earlier heat between them hadn't faded. If anything, it had deepened-turned into something more volatile now that danger had sharpened the air.

"You still haven't told me what I am," she said at last, gaze fixed on the skyline but her voice cutting clean through the tension.

He didn't answer at first. Then-

"You're the last living bloodline of the Serak Witches," he said. "Born under the crescent-serpent mark. Magic older than kingdoms. Forbidden because it doesn't just wield power-it twists fate."

Her breath hitched.

Killian's voice was quiet now, dangerous in its restraint. "And the reason I'm cursed, Seraphina, is because I touched that fate twenty-one years ago... when I was still a child."

She turned, stunned. "You?"

He nodded. "You don't remember, do you?"

She shook her head slowly.

"You were four. They'd already hidden you by then. I was eight. My father brought me to the High Circle to witness the sealing of the prophecy. I saw you asleep in that glass sanctum. I touched the mark on your chest..."

His jaw flexed.

"And I've been dying ever since."

Seraphina's knees weakened. She braced herself on the window ledge, heart thundering in her chest.

"You're cursed because of me..."

"I'm cursed," he said, walking toward her, "because I was meant to be yours. And they tried to sever the bond with magic no one fully understood."

He was close now. Too close.

"But bonds like this..." His breath touched her skin. "They don't break. They rot. They fester."

"And now?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

He reached for her, fingers grazing her jaw. "Now it awakens."

Their mouths were inches apart, heat pulsing like a live current. The air between them charged, ready to ignite.

But then-

"Sir!" The assistant's voice shrieked through the intercom.

Killian growled, stepping back like a lion denied its kill.

"What?" he snapped.

"There's movement in the northern barrier. Another breach-only this one's... responding to her blood."

Seraphina's heart stopped.

Killian didn't hesitate. "Seal the floor. Activate the bloodlocks. No one gets in or out."

He turned to Seraphina, eyes lit with a new edge of fury-and fear.

"They're not just coming for you anymore," he said. "They're being drawn."

She touched her chest where the mark pulsed faintly beneath her skin. "By what?"

Killian's lips parted with his answer-soft, dangerous.

"By your awakening."

The corridors between the penthouse and the lower chambers of Draven Industries were built like a fortress-silent, high-tech, and layered with arcane security. Seraphina had barely stepped into the steel-and-glass elevator before Killian slammed a hand against the panel and twisted a sigil built into the surface.

The elevator jerked, shuddered, then began its descent-fast.

"Where are we going?" she asked, the pressure between them thickening by the second.

"To the Subterrane. The place even board members don't know exists."

She stared at him. "That sounds ominous."

He didn't smile. "It is."

Her hand brushed the inner curve of her wrist, tracing the faint pulse of the mark she'd spent her life hiding. "What exactly is happening to me?"

Killian glanced down at her. "You're remembering. And your magic is calling."

"To what?"

"To me."

His words weren't soft. They were steel wrapped in heat. And when his eyes found hers again, something carnal moved beneath the surface-older than lust, darker than love.

They didn't speak again as the elevator opened into a dimly lit corridor flanked by glowing glyphs. Seraphina followed him through two enormous obsidian doors. What lay beyond was not just a secure facility.

It was a throne room-reimagined through the eyes of a beast.

Shadowed glass chambers lined the walls, filled with locked tomes, runed weapons, ancient sigil plates glowing faintly under containment fields. At the center stood a blackstone table inscribed with blood-etched prophecy.

And on the far side, a mirror.

No-a seal. Oval, ornate, chained with burning runes. It pulsed like a heartbeat, faint but undeniable.

Seraphina stepped closer. Her body reacted instantly-heat rushing to her skin, the mark under her collarbone thrumming like a second pulse.

"What is that?" she asked, breath shaky.

Killian's voice was rough. "The mirror of fate. It's what the prophecy was bound to. When your ancestors tried to cut your destiny from mine, they sealed it inside this."

"Then why is it responding now?"

He looked at her-truly looked.

"Because your magic is no longer asleep."

The moment hung between them, charged and trembling.

Seraphina stepped away from the mirror. Her emotions were a battlefield-fear, rage, grief... and something dangerous beneath it all.

Desire.

She turned toward him. "What if I don't want a destiny I didn't choose?"

Killian didn't flinch. "Then we burn it."

Her breath caught.

"But," he continued, stepping closer, his voice lowering, "if you want it... if you want me, Seraphina, then say it now. And I will destroy everything that stands between us."

She didn't move. Her hands curled at her sides.

"I don't know what I want," she whispered. "I only know that when I'm near you... I'm not afraid."

He was before her in a flash, hand rising to trace her jaw with barely-there restraint.

"You should be."

"I'm not," she breathed.

His lips brushed hers-not a kiss. A test. A threat.

A promise.

Their mouths met in a clash of heat and hunger, the tension finally snapping. Seraphina's fingers curled into his chest, nails scraping skin as she leaned into the storm of him. Killian's arm wrapped around her waist, dragging her into him like gravity itself had been waiting.

It wasn't tender. It was fire unleashed-twenty-one years of longing detonated in one stolen breath.

But just as hands began to slide under clothing, a surge of power slammed through the room.

The mirror behind them flared.

Killian froze. "No."

The chains trembled. The seal cracked.

Seraphina broke from him, hair wild, chest heaving.

"What's happening?"

He grabbed her arm, pulling her behind him. "The oath is activating."

"The what?!"

"The Awakening Oath-the one your bloodline made to mine. When the bond is physically sealed between us-when you give yourself to me-it completes the curse."

Her blood ran cold.

"Are you saying if we have sex-"

"The magic won't wait. It'll lock. Irrevocably. No going back."

She stared at him. "So that was your plan?"

His jaw clenched. "No. I wanted you. Not your magic."

She searched his face, hunting for a lie, but found only the same torment burning in her own chest.

Outside the sealed chamber, alarms blared. Another breach.

"We're out of time," Killian growled.

The mirror groaned. Another crack splintered across its face.

Seraphina turned toward him, wild-eyed.

"Then what do we do?"

He stepped closer, face deadly calm.

"We fight fate."

The walls of the chamber shook.

Outside, the hallway sensors shattered one by one, as if something ancient-something boundless-was slithering through the reinforced floors of Draven Industries, hunting.

Seraphina's breath came in shallow bursts. Her entire body trembled, not with fear, but with raw, unrestrained magic pressing to be released.

Killian's grip was firm on her wrist as he moved with silent urgency, pulling her toward a hidden corridor behind the seal. The sliding obsidian panel hissed open, revealing a dark stairwell lit only by the crimson glow of emergency runes.

"Where are we going now?" she demanded, struggling to keep up as they descended.

"To the Hall of Binding. If the seal is weakening, there's only one place that can suppress it temporarily."

They emerged into a cavernous chamber below, where the very walls pulsed with dormant power. Hundreds of glyphs lined the stone-etched in blood, bone, and something older. At the center, an altar rose from the ground, jagged and rough, surrounded by a protective circle.

Seraphina stared, heart slamming against her ribs. "What is this?"

Killian didn't answer right away.

Instead, he turned, cupping her jaw. His touch was still fire, still temptation. But this time, there was reverence in his grip.

"This is where your blood once cursed mine," he said quietly. "And where it can also unbind us-if you choose."

She shivered at the weight of his words. "Unbind?"

"The prophecy doesn't say we have to be enemies. Or lovers. Just that your magic will awaken the monster in me-and destroy the world. But if we sever the binding before your powers peak, we can change the outcome."

Her voice was barely a whisper. "What happens to us?"

He didn't answer.

His silence screamed louder than thunder.

The glyphs on the altar began to glow, responding to her nearness. She felt a surge in her bones-an ancient echo thrumming inside her veins. She stepped back.

"No. This place... it's wrong."

Killian moved forward, his hands sliding gently to her waist.

"You feel it because you're remembering," he said, voice thick. "The night you were born, your magic ripped through the veil. They hid you not to protect you-but to protect themselves from what you are."

"And what am I?" she choked out.

"Power incarnate," he whispered. "The witch who can rewrite fate."

The heat between them swelled again.

Killian pressed closer, brushing her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

"You're not just mine, Seraphina. You're the end. Of the curse. Of the cycle. Of everything that kept us chained."

"And what if I don't want to end anything?" she asked, fingers tangling in the front of his shirt. "What if all I want right now... is you?"

The air thinned.

Killian's lips hovered near hers.

But just as he leaned in-

A cold wind slammed into the room, followed by a sharp feminine voice:

"Sir, I told you we had an intruder. I didn't realize you invited her."

Killian whirled, jaw clenched.

Seraphina blinked in surprise.

A woman stood at the threshold of the chamber, dressed in a razor-sharp navy suit, her eyes calculating and unreadable behind silver-framed glasses.

"Marla," Killian growled. "Get out."

"Oh, no," Marla said, stepping fully into the chamber. "Not before you explain why the seal is reacting, the wards are collapsing, and our systems are detecting a Tier 5 magical anomaly in your pants, sir."

Seraphina flushed, caught between fury and embarrassment. "Excuse me?"

"Assistant," Killian growled, voice full Alpha now, "leave. Now."

Marla arched a brow but finally turned on her heel with a knowing smirk. "Fine. But if you blow up the facility, I'm not cleaning the ashes."

The moment the door sealed behind her, Seraphina covered her mouth, then burst into breathless laughter.

Killian narrowed his eyes. "It's not funny."

"You have your assistant monitoring your heat signature?"

He dragged a hand down his face. "She monitors everything. Including my blood pressure. It's protocol."

"Right," she said, lips twitching. "Definitely all business."

Killian moved toward her, wrapping a strong arm around her waist and pulling her flush to him. "And right now, business is you."

Their laughter melted into tension-tight, magnetic, and aching.

Seraphina looked up at him, pulse erratic. "What if we don't stop?"

His grip on her tightened. "Then the world changes."

She didn't hesitate this time.

She kissed him.

There was no hesitation, no calculation. Just hunger unleashed.

Killian lifted her onto the altar, her legs wrapping around his waist as their mouths clashed. Her hands fisted into his hair. His jacket fell away, followed by the shirt she'd been dying to tear off him since the elevator.

They kissed like the world was ending-and maybe, it was.

But as her fingers slid beneath the waistband of his slacks, the runes on the altar exploded in light.

Killian jerked back.

"No," he said, panting, "not here."

"Why?" she gasped, aching.

"Because if we bond here, the altar will bind our fates permanently. The curse will choose for us."

She was trembling. "And if we leave?"

His eyes burned gold.

"Then you choose."

He scooped her into his arms before she could respond, carrying her with lethal grace up the stairwell and through another corridor.

They didn't stop until they reached a private suite-his.

The door shut behind them.

Clothes hit the floor.

But just as he laid her down-

The mark on her collarbone seared red-hot.

Killian froze.

And then-

The mirror from the chamber below shattered.

Glass and magic screamed through the building.

A burst of dark energy tore through the penthouse like a sonic quake.

Seraphina gasped, clutching her chest as a new pulse ripped through her soul.

Killian stared at her.

"It's too late," he said, voice low and ragged.

The prophecy has started.

Those words hung between them like a blade, severing breath from reason.

Seraphina clutched the edge of the silk sheets beneath her, her skin still flushed from the aftermath of nearly being consumed by him-by the binding, by the heat, by everything she didn't understand but couldn't deny. Killian stood at the edge of the bed, shirt half undone, chest heaving as if he'd just escaped a battlefield. Maybe he had.

Because the battlefield was her.

And now it had awakened.

"Killian," she whispered, her voice rough, thick with fear and fire. "What does that mean?"

His golden eyes didn't waver. They burned brighter than ever, like a furnace barely holding back an inferno. He stepped closer, but not to touch her. No, he wasn't stupid. Even now, especially now, the air crackled between them with something ancient and uncontainable.

"It means the seal's no longer dormant," he said, voice low. "Your blood recognized mine. The bond is... partially formed."

"Partially?" she repeated, still struggling to breathe evenly.

"It wants completion. And it won't stop until it gets it."

She trembled. "The altar-was it meant to force the bond?"

"Yes. It was a trap," he admitted. "But an old one. Left behind by the Council to ensure no Alpha or Witch ever merged without their sanction. If we'd stayed, it would've etched the binding runes across our bodies-irrevocable. Irreversible. You would've lost your choice."

"And now?" she asked. "Do I still have one?"

Killian moved to her, finally lowering to the bed, but keeping just enough space between their bodies to remind her he was holding back.

"You always have a choice with me, Seraphina."

The sincerity in his voice startled her more than the explosions, more than the prophecy, more than the fire in her blood.

Because for all his power-for all his control-he looked at her like she was the one who could destroy him.

And maybe she was.

She swallowed hard. "Then tell me everything. The whole truth. Not just pieces."

He nodded once, then stood and walked to the far end of the suite. A hidden panel slid open beneath his fingerprint, revealing a sleek silver case. From it, he drew a sealed parchment and a vial filled with black-gold liquid.

"The prophecy wasn't just about power," he said, walking back toward her. "It was about retribution. Two bloodlines-one of the flame, one of the veil-forever cursed to repeat the same tragedy. One kills. One dies. Every generation."

Her stomach dropped. "So which are we?"

He handed her the parchment. "You're the veil. I'm the flame."

She unrolled it slowly, eyes skimming the ancient lettering. She couldn't read it, not exactly, but the symbols bled with magic, with fate. The same runes from the altar glowed faintly in her mark.

"They predicted this," she murmured. "Our meeting. Our... bond."

Killian sat beside her again, expression unreadable. "Yes. But they didn't predict that this time, we'd fight it."

Seraphina touched her collarbone, the heat of the mark a steady thrum. "What if I don't want to fight it?"

He went utterly still.

"Then the world will fall at your feet," he said hoarsely. "And the price will be me."

Her breath caught. "Why you?"

"Because I'm the one fated to break," he said. "To either become your shield or your ruin."

The silence that followed wasn't cold. It was burning.

And in it, something in her shifted.

She reached out, brushing her fingers along his jaw. "Then let's decide together what we become."

Killian's hand covered hers, fierce and warm. "No more secrets?"

"No more walls," she said.

His mouth curled into a sharp smile. "Then I have one more thing to show you."

He stood again and moved to the wall near the window. With a whispered word, a large circular slab began to rotate, revealing a chamber of obsidian mirrors and flickering light-like stars trapped in stone.

"The Mirrorwell," he said, motioning for her to follow. "It shows potential. Not future. Not past. Just... possibility."

She stepped inside, the heat from her skin reacting instantly with the reflective surfaces. Her mark blazed again, and in the center of the chamber, a vision formed.

Not a memory.

Not a dream.

But them-united, unstoppable. Power unlike anything she'd ever imagined flowed from their joined hands. Kingdoms fell, forests burned, oceans parted.

She turned away, shaking. "It's too much."

Killian caught her again, this time not to restrain, but to steady.

"You're not alone in this."

She stared at their reflection-his gold eyes, her silver. Fire and shadow. Flame and veil.

"Then swear it," she said, facing him fully now. "Swear the Oath."

Killian inhaled sharply, as if she'd said something forbidden.

"I'm serious," she whispered. "Swear to me, Killian Draven. That no matter what this prophecy demands, we fight it together."

He pressed his forehead to hers.

"I swear it," he said, voice guttural, sacred. "By blood. By flame. By fate."

The chamber pulsed. The mirrors glowed.

And the prophecy screamed.

Not in words. Not in language. But in magic. In soundless thunder that rattled her bones and pushed against her soul like a tidal wave demanding to be heard.

Seraphina stumbled, gasping, as the Mirrorwell fractured around them-not breaking, not crumbling-but splintering into shards of light. Each shard hovered in the air, revealing fragments of outcomes.

One showed her in a crown of ash, sitting alone on a throne of scorched bone.

Another, her body limp in Killian's arms, lifeless.

Another, the two of them locked in a kiss, while the world burned behind them.

She cried out, "Make it stop!"

Killian grabbed her, yanking her against him just as the visions burst like glass stars, imploding into threads of light and sinking into the floor.

The chamber stilled.

But nothing about them was still.

Seraphina's breath hitched in her throat. "We're not in control. Not really."

"No," Killian said, fierce. "But we can take control. That's what the Oath does-it rejects the prophecy. It chooses us."

"Then let's finish it," she said. "Right here. Right now."

Killian's expression shifted-no more teasing, no more smirks. Just reverence. And maybe fear.

Not of her.

But for her.

"Seraphina," he said solemnly, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a twin to the earlier vial-this one glowing crimson instead of black-gold. "This is my blood oath. You take it. I take yours. We speak the words. The bond becomes will, not fate."

She nodded, pulse wild. "Do it."

He sliced his palm with a silver dagger and let a drop fall into the vial.

She took the blade without flinching, slicing a clean line across her own hand. Their blood met with a hiss, spiraling into luminous smoke.

Killian held the vial between them. "Say the words with me."

Together, they spoke:

"By soul and flame, by curse and choice,

I bind myself to thee-not by fate, but by voice.

Let no prophecy command our path.

Let no gods tear us apart in wrath.

I choose. I vow. I burn. I break.

For power. For love. For our own sake."

The vial shattered.

A storm of energy engulfed them.

The mark on Seraphina's collarbone erupted in light-scarlet and silver, ancient and divine.

Killian dropped to his knees, hands clenched against his chest as a growl tore from him-half agony, half ecstasy.

Seraphina gasped as the same surge flooded her, searing her nerves, her spine, her very breath. She was fire. She was moonlight. She was everything they tried to hide from the world.

And when the storm cleared-

They were still standing.

Still whole.

Still themselves.

Killian rose slowly, his body sheened in sweat, his chest rising and falling like a war drum.

His eyes glowed.

Not gold.

But flame-white.

"You broke the curse," he whispered.

"No," she said, stepping into his space. "We did."

He reached for her again, and this time there was no hesitation.

Their mouths collided in a kiss more feral, more sacred than the first. Their magic didn't clash anymore-it merged. A perfect storm with a single purpose: to make the world listen.

But just as Seraphina began to lose herself in him, a siren wailed through the penthouse.

A mechanical voice boomed through hidden speakers:

"Warning. Tier 7 Anomaly detected. Intrusion in Progress. Unknown magical entity approaching the Inner Core."

Killian's head whipped toward the window.

"No," he snarled. "Not now."

Seraphina's veins turned to ice. "What is it?"

He moved like a weapon unsheathed. "It's the Collector. The one who hunts bloodlines."

Her stomach flipped. "You said he was myth-"

"He was. Until now." Killian grabbed a blade from the mirrored chamber wall and tossed another to her. "He wants the Oath. He'll tear your soul apart to get it."

Seraphina squared her shoulders, flames licking up her spine as the prophecy's mark continued to glow on her collarbone.

"Then let him try."

They turned together, blades drawn, magic crackling, the Oath still burning like a fresh brand in their hearts.

Behind them, the Mirrorwell closed in silence.

But ahead-

War was waiting.

The walls of the chamber shook.

Outside, the hallway sensors shattered one by one, as if something ancient-something boundless-was slithering through the reinforced floors of Draven Industries, hunting.

Seraphina's breath came in shallow bursts. Her entire body trembled, not with fear, but with raw, unrestrained magic pressing to be released.

Killian's grip was firm on her wrist as he moved with silent urgency, pulling her toward a hidden corridor behind the seal. The sliding obsidian panel hissed open, revealing a dark stairwell lit only by the crimson glow of emergency runes.

"Where are we going now?" she demanded, struggling to keep up as they descended.

"To the Hall of Binding. If the seal is weakening, there's only one place that can suppress it temporarily."

They emerged into a cavernous chamber below, where the very walls pulsed with dormant power. Hundreds of glyphs lined the stone-etched in blood, bone, and something older. At the center, an altar rose from the ground, jagged and rough, surrounded by a protective circle.

Seraphina stared, heart slamming against her ribs. "What is this?"

Killian didn't answer right away.

Instead, he turned, cupping her jaw. His touch was still fire, still temptation. But this time, there was reverence in his grip.

"This is where your blood once cursed mine," he said quietly. "And where it can also unbind us-if you choose."

She shivered at the weight of his words. "Unbind?"

"The prophecy doesn't say we have to be enemies. Or lovers. Just that your magic will awaken the monster in me-and destroy the world. But if we sever the binding before your powers peak, we can change the outcome."

Her voice was barely a whisper. "What happens to us?"

He didn't answer.

His silence screamed louder than thunder.

The glyphs on the altar began to glow, responding to her nearness. She felt a surge in her bones-an ancient echo thrumming inside her veins. She stepped back.

"No. This place... it's wrong."

Killian moved forward, his hands sliding gently to her waist.

"You feel it because you're remembering," he said, voice thick. "The night you were born, your magic ripped through the veil. They hid you not to protect you-but to protect themselves from what you are."

"And what am I?" she choked out.

"Power incarnate," he whispered. "The witch who can rewrite fate."

The heat between them swelled again.

Killian pressed closer, brushing her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

"You're not just mine, Seraphina. You're the end. Of the curse. Of the cycle. Of everything that kept us chained."

"And what if I don't want to end anything?" she asked, fingers tangling in the front of his shirt. "What if all I want right now... is you?"

The air thinned.

Killian's lips hovered near hers.

But just as he leaned in-

A cold wind slammed into the room, followed by a sharp feminine voice:

"Sir, I told you we had an intruder. I didn't realize you invited her."

Killian whirled, jaw clenched.

Seraphina blinked in surprise.

A woman stood at the threshold of the chamber, dressed in a razor-sharp navy suit, her eyes calculating and unreadable behind silver-framed glasses.

"Marla," Killian growled. "Get out."

"Oh, no," Marla said, stepping fully into the chamber. "Not before you explain why the seal is reacting, the wards are collapsing, and our systems are detecting a Tier 5 magical anomaly in your pants, sir."

Seraphina flushed, caught between fury and embarrassment. "Excuse me?"

"Assistant," Killian growled, voice full Alpha now, "leave. Now."

Marla arched a brow but finally turned on her heel with a knowing smirk. "Fine. But if you blow up the facility, I'm not cleaning the ashes."

The moment the door sealed behind her, Seraphina covered her mouth, then burst into breathless laughter.

Killian narrowed his eyes. "It's not funny."

"You have your assistant monitoring your heat signature?"

He dragged a hand down his face. "She monitors everything. Including my blood pressure. It's protocol."

"Right," she said, lips twitching. "Definitely all business."

Killian moved toward her, wrapping a strong arm around her waist and pulling her flush to him. "And right now, business is you."

Their laughter melted into tension-tight, magnetic, and aching.

Seraphina looked up at him, pulse erratic. "What if we don't stop?"

His grip on her tightened. "Then the world changes."

She didn't hesitate this time.

She kissed him.

There was no hesitation, no calculation. Just hunger unleashed.

Killian lifted her onto the altar, her legs wrapping around his waist as their mouths clashed. Her hands fisted into his hair. His jacket fell away, followed by the shirt she'd been dying to tear off him since the elevator.

They kissed like the world was ending-and maybe, it was.

But as her fingers slid beneath the waistband of his slacks, the runes on the altar exploded in light.

Killian jerked back.

"No," he said, panting, "not here."

"Why?" she gasped, aching.

"Because if we bond here, the altar will bind our fates permanently. The curse will choose for us."

She was trembling. "And if we leave?"

His eyes burned gold.

"Then you choose."

He scooped her into his arms before she could respond, carrying her with lethal grace up the stairwell and through another corridor.

They didn't stop until they reached a private suite-his.

The door shut behind them.

Clothes hit the floor.

But just as he laid her down-

The mark on her collarbone seared red-hot.

Killian froze.

And then-

The mirror from the chamber below shattered.

Glass and magic screamed through the building.

A burst of dark energy tore through the penthouse like a sonic quake.

Seraphina gasped, clutching her chest as a new pulse ripped through her soul.

Killian stared at her.

"It's too late," he said, voice low and ragged.

"The prophecy has started."

A tremor rippled through the room as the shattered mirror flickered-not just broken, but replaced.

In its place stood a portal, roiling with black fire.

From it, a figure emerged.

Slender, cloaked in red with skin like ash and hair like coiled obsidian, her eyes burned with familiar malice.

Seraphina stumbled to her feet. "Lilith."

The figure smiled.

"My beautiful mistake," Lilith purred. "Did you really think the bond wouldn't call me too?"

Killian stepped in front of Seraphina, his aura pulsing with defensive fury. "You have no right here."

"I created her," Lilith said, her voice velvet and venom. "She is mine."

"No," Seraphina said, stepping forward, fire sparking from her skin. "I belong to no one."

Lilith's grin widened. "Then prove it."

The portal flared.

Killian reached for Seraphina's hand, clasping it tight.

"Whatever comes next," he said, "you don't face it alone."

The light in Seraphina's chest bloomed, pushing outward like a storm.

The walls trembled once more-

As the portal swallowed all light-

And the Hall of Binding shattered behind them.

The silence that followed was not peace-it was pressure. The kind that settled over a room when fate stopped whispering and started watching.

Seraphina staggered backward, her body still humming with the echo of power. Her breath was shallow, chest rising and falling as if her lungs didn't quite know what air was supposed to feel like anymore.

Killian's gaze didn't leave her-not for a second. His muscles were taut, his jaw locked so tight she could see the tremor beneath his skin. The remnants of the magical blast danced like shadowy static across the room. Fractured glass glittered at their feet like cursed snowflakes.

She touched the mark on her collarbone, fingers trembling. It was still burning-faint, but steady. Alive.

"What the hell was that?" she asked hoarsely.

Killian didn't answer at first. He moved, slowly, deliberately, across the ruined room to her. His bare chest rose with each breath, the heat in his golden eyes tempered now by something far more ancient. More grave.

"The altar triggered the full activation of your curse," he said. "But it didn't bind us."

Seraphina's brows furrowed. "Then why do I feel like I'm going to collapse into another plane of existence?"

He reached for her, brushing his thumb along her jaw. His touch was softer now, reverent. "Because you're awakening. And every inch of your blood is remembering the oath your ancestors made-and the power they tried to bury inside you."

"But I didn't say the words," she whispered. "I didn't accept anything. We stopped-"

"You don't have to say them," Killian said. "Your body... your magic already answered."

The weight of those words made her chest tighten.

She looked around-the devastation, the chaos. Runes still flickered on the walls, trying to stabilize. Her legs nearly gave out, and Killian caught her without hesitation, guiding her to the edge of the ruined bed.

"You said the Hall of Binding could suppress the curse," she rasped. "We didn't do that. We left. So what now?"

He crouched before her, his hands on her knees, grounding her even as the magic between them threatened to spiral again.

"We ended it in the only way it could be ended," he said, voice low. "By rejecting the fate chosen for us."

Her eyes searched his. "Are you saying... it's over?"

Killian hesitated. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"The oath's chain is broken. The prophecy's path has been disrupted. Whatever was written in blood magic has no dominion anymore." His gaze turned darker. "But the energy we unleashed tonight-it's awake now. And not everyone will want the old rules to be broken."

Seraphina exhaled shakily. "So we ended the curse. But started a war."

A shadow of a smile ghosted across Killian's lips. "That's usually how real change begins."

She swallowed hard, emotion swelling like a tide she wasn't prepared to fight anymore. "And us?"

"What about us?" he asked, inching closer.

She met his gaze, unflinching. "If we're not cursed to be enemies or bound by fate to be lovers... What are we now?"

He didn't blink. Didn't breathe.

Then, his hand slid behind her neck, slow and sure. "Now, we choose."

And when he kissed her, it wasn't desperation-it was quiet certainty.

It was a man no longer obeying fate.

And a woman no longer afraid of herself.

---

Hours Later

The night stretched deep, quiet now.

No magic crackled. No runes screamed. Just the low hum of the city far below, and the warmth of Seraphina's body curled beneath silk sheets and real freedom.

Killian sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, listening to his security chief mutter panic on the other end of the line.

"Sir, we're detecting a wave of resonance across the northeast quadrant-magic, unknown signature. Level 6 on the Richter scale. It aligns with Vale estate records and-"

Killian cut him off. "Contain it. Scrub the records. And if anyone else gets curious, remind them who runs the damn city."

"Yes, Alpha."

He hung up.

Behind him, Seraphina stirred. "Trouble?"

He looked back over his shoulder. Her silver eyes shimmered in the low light.

"Always," he said. "But now we fight it on our own terms."

She sat up slowly, letting the sheet fall from her bare shoulders. Her expression was unreadable-but there was no fear in it anymore.

"Then let's rewrite fate," she said.

Killian stood, walked over, and brushed his fingers across her collarbone-the mark there now a soft, dormant glow. No pain. No burn. Just a reminder of what had been broken-and what they had become.

She was no longer the witch in the walls.

And he was no longer the monster fate had chained.

They had burned the script of destiny.

And from its ashes, something more dangerous rose.

Choice.