Chapter 23

The Ancient Prophecy

The next morning, Kael vanished before sunrise.

No message.

No explanation.

Just an empty palace and a bond full of sharp restless tension that kept brushing against Evelynn’s thoughts like claws scraping stone.

Which, unfortunately, had become normal.

She spent most of the morning pretending to read while actually replaying the previous night over and over in her head.

The glowing veins beneath her skin.

Kael’s expression.

“I think there is something wrong with history.”

Deeply comforting sentence.

By afternoon, the palace atmosphere had shifted again. Servants whispered more carefully than usual. Guards moved in pairs now. Even the dragonfire lanterns throughout the halls seemed dimmer somehow.

Black Citadel felt like it was waiting for something bad to happen.

Again.

Evelynn found Serin near the eastern archive staircase carrying enough scrolls to qualify as structural damage.

“You look stressed,” she observed.

Serin looked at her flatly. “The king summoned Malek to the lower sanctum.”

That sounded unpleasant immediately.

“The lower what?”

“The underground temple beneath the western cliffs.”

Even more unpleasant.

Serin adjusted the stack of scrolls in his arms. “Nobody goes there unless something ancient, cursed, or politically catastrophic is happening.”

“…and you dragons wonder why humans find you dramatic.”

Serin ignored that. “The priests sealed most of the sanctum after the war.”

That got Evelynn’s attention immediately.

“The Burning War?”

“Yes.”

Oh no.

Her curiosity immediately became a problem again.

An hour later, despite several deeply reasonable survival instincts begging her not to, Evelynn stood outside a section of the palace she definitely wasn’t supposed to enter.

The western sanctum tunnels sat far beneath Black Citadel behind massive black doors carved with ancient draconic symbols. Unlike the rest of the palace, no dragonfire burned here. Only old iron lanterns flickered weakly against rough stone walls.

The deeper she walked underground, the colder everything became.

And quieter.

Not normal silence either.

Sacred silence.

The kind that made people whisper without meaning to.

Eventually the corridor opened into an enormous underground chamber.

Evelynn stopped walking immediately.

The sanctum looked ancient enough to predate the palace itself. Massive stone pillars stretched upward into darkness while faded gold symbols covered the floor in enormous circular patterns. Dragon skulls lined the outer walls alongside broken weapons blackened by age and fire.

At the center of the chamber stood Kael and Malek.

Neither had noticed her yet.

Good.

Probably.

The old priest stood beside a raised stone altar covered in glowing ancient symbols while Kael remained several feet away with his arms folded tightly across his chest.

Tense.

Very tense.

The bond confirmed it immediately.

Something was wrong.

Malek’s voice echoed quietly through the chamber.

“The markings reacted again?”

Kael answered flatly. “You already know they did.”

The old priest looked exhausted. “I hoped you were mistaken.”

“That would be a first.”

Even tired and emotionally unstable, Kael somehow remained sarcastic.

Impressive.

Malek sighed heavily before reaching toward the altar. Ancient symbols carved into the stone flickered faintly gold beneath his scaled fingers.

“The prophecy was sealed after the war for a reason.”

Evelynn froze.

Prophecy?

Oh absolutely not.

Kael’s voice lowered dangerously. “Start speaking clearly.”

The symbols across the altar brightened suddenly.

Dragonfire.

But old.

Different somehow.

The glow spread across the floor in ancient lines and patterns until faded draconic text appeared beneath centuries of dust.

Evelynn couldn’t read it.

But Kael could.

She knew the exact second he understood what he was seeing.

Because the bond went cold.

Not calm cold.

Shock.

Real shock.

Malek spoke quietly.

“The old kings believed resonance would return.”

Kael stared at the glowing symbols without moving.

“No.”

“Yes.”

The old priest’s voice echoed softly through the sanctum. “The final prophecy was written after Lyriana died.”

The name hit through the bond instantly.

Pain.

Sharp enough that Evelynn almost stepped backward.

Kael looked furious now.

Not explosive fury.

Worse.

Controlled fury.

The kind that destroyed things carefully.

Malek continued before Kael could interrupt.

“The prophecy warned that one day the lost bloodline would return to the Dragon Throne.”

Evelynn’s pulse stopped.

Oh no.

Kael’s voice came dangerously quiet.

“Bloodline.”

The old priest hesitated only briefly.

“Lyriana was carrying a child when she died.”

Silence crashed through the sanctum.

Even the ancient dragonfire seemed to dim.

Kael went completely still.

The bond became unreadable for one terrible second.

Then suddenly—

rage.

Not at Evelynn.

At history.

At lies.

At himself.

The dragonfire symbols across the floor flared violently.

Malek stepped backward immediately.

Wise decision.

Kael’s eyes burned gold in the darkness now. “You told me she died alone.”

“She believed the child died with her.”

Kael’s breathing turned uneven.

Evelynn had never seen him look like this before.

Not violent.

Shattered.

The old priest looked older suddenly. “The human kingdom hid the surviving bloodline to prevent another war.”

“And decided not to mention this for three centuries?”

The dragonfire cracked violently across the floor.

Malek did not answer.

Did not need to.

Kael laughed once.

Cold.

Disbelieving.

The sound echoed horribly through the underground chamber.

Then slowly, almost reluctantly, his gaze shifted.

Toward the shadows where Evelynn stood.

Too late.

He knew she was there now.

Of course he did.

The bond surged sharply between them.

Shock.

Fear.

Recognition.

Evelynn stepped reluctantly into the firelight.

Neither man looked surprised.

Wonderful.

Malek closed his eyes briefly like a priest reconsidering all his life choices.

Kael stared at Evelynn silently.

And for the first time since meeting him—

there was something dangerously close to hope beneath the fear in his eyes.

That frightened her more than the prophecy.