Chapter 3 Three

Mira

The Council tower stood like a fang against the night sky.

Tall. Cold. Vicious.

A monument built from fear and old magic. It was here they dragged me three years ago, wrists broken, mouth bleeding, power screaming under my skin while Jason watched with the eyes of a king instead of the eyes of my mate.

Riven and the other rebels waited in the trees behind me, but I moved alone toward the back entrance. This part of the tower was rarely guarded. The Council relied too much on enchantments, believing their spells were impenetrable.

They had never met me.

Shadow pooled beneath my boots. It curled around my ankles, then climbed my spine like an old friend. I pressed a hand to the stone door. Dark runes shimmered faintly, sensing the wrong bloodline touching them.

I let my power rise.

Shadows seeped into the cracks, filled the spaces between runes, suffocated the spell from the inside. The door unlocked with a soft, trembling sigh, like the tower itself feared me.

Good.

I stepped inside.

Cold air wrapped around me. The scent of old ink, old blood, and old evil thickened the hallway. Candles flickered weakly, their flames bending as I passed. Shadows recoiled from everyone else. They obeyed only me.

The moment I reached the inner chamber, I felt it.

Power pulsed from the center of the room. A heartbeat. A calling. A piece of magic stolen long ago from the Shadowlands. The Council kept it behind layers of iron and spellwork. They studied it. Feared it. Worshipped it.

The Shadow Core.

A black sphere floating above a stone pedestal, its energy swirling like a living storm.

I moved toward it, but my steps slowed.

I remembered this pedestal. I remembered being chained to it. I remembered their voices chanting. I remembered screaming until my throat tore.

And I remembered Jason.

Standing outside the ritual circle. Silent. Frozen. Terrified of what I was becoming. Terrified of what protecting me would cost him.

Rage rose in my throat.

I stepped closer to the Shadow Core. Its energy reached for me, crackling through the air.

I lifted my hand.

The shadows inside the sphere responded instantly, rushing toward my palm.

A voice echoed behind me.

“Mira.”

My blood stopped.

I turned slowly.

And there he stood.

Jason.

He looked like a ghost carved from regret. Armor glinting from torchlight. Hair brushed back from his forehead. Eyes storm-dark and locked on me as if I were the only thing alive in the tower.

His soldiers were gone. He had come alone.

He took a slow step forward. “It really is you.”

I tightened my grip on my blade.

“You should not be here,” I said.

His breath shook. “I searched for you for years.”

A cruel smile touched my lips. “You should have looked harder.”

“Mira,” he whispered again, voice raw, “I thought you died.”

“I did.”

The words hit him like a blade.

He stepped closer, cautious, as if approaching something fragile. That insulted me. I was not fragile. I had not been fragile since the night he gave me away.

“Mira,” he said softly, “please take off the mask.”

“No.”

His eyes closed, pain pulling at his features. When he opened them again, the king was gone. The man I once knew stood in his place.

“Let me see your face,” he said.

So I stepped into the faint glow of the Shadow Core and let him.

Not by removing the mask.

But by letting him see the hatred burning in my eyes.

“It is me,” I said. “And I am not here for you.”

His jaw tightened. “You came for the Core.”

“I came for many things.”

“Take it,” he said. “If it keeps the Council from hurting you again, take it.”

The willingness in his voice startled me.

But I swallowed it.

I did not come here to be startled.

“You think this is about the Council?” I asked.

“I know I failed you,” he said quietly. “But I never wanted you harmed.”

My laugh was soft, cold, and sharp enough to hurt.

“You handed me to them.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“No,” I said. “You were trying to protect your throne.”

Jason’s face knotted with anguish. “Mira, please. I never chose the throne over you.”

“You did.”

His throat worked. His shoulders rose and fell with a painful breath.

And then the tower shook violently.

I whipped around.

Cracks split the walls. Smoke curled up from the floor. Footsteps thundered above.

Jason’s eyes snapped upward. “The Council. They know we are here.”

I turned back to the Core. “Then let them come.”

“Mira, we have to leave,” Jason said.

“You leave,” I answered. “I have unfinished business.”

He stepped closer. Too close. His scent hit me like a memory I never asked for.

“Mira,” he whispered. “If you stay, they will kill you.”

I met his eyes and felt nothing.

“They already tried.”

Jason

She looked like Mira.

She moved like Mira.

She spoke like Mira.

But the girl I lost was soft sunlight. The woman standing in front of me was midnight sharpened into a blade.

Three years changed her.

Three years changed me too.

I had dreamed of this moment so many nights that my mind struggled to accept it was real. She was alive. She was standing in front of me with fire in her veins and hatred in her eyes.

She lifted her hand toward the Shadow Core. Shadows flew to her palm like they belonged to her.

She had become the very power the kingdom feared.

“Mira,” I said quietly, “I know you hate me.”

Her voice was steady. “Good. Then you understand me.”

She did not turn around. She did not look back at me.

And that hurt more than her words.

I stepped closer, ignoring how the shadows reacted violently to my approach. “You have no reason to trust me. But you cannot stay here. Not tonight. The Council is already moving.”

“I do not run from them anymore,” she said.

“You do not know what they are planning.”

“I know enough.”

“No,” I said, voice hardening. “You do not. Mira, they are not just collecting artifacts. They are preparing a ritual.”

Her hand froze.

“For what?”

“They want the Core’s power. All of it. They want to revive something old.”

Her head tilted just slightly. Enough for me to see her profile beneath the mask.

“And you know this because?” she asked.

“Because I saw the documents. Because I overheard the Queen’s private meeting with the Council leader,” I said. “Because they think you are dead and they think they can use your absence to finish what they started.”

Silence cut between us.

She turned fully toward me then, shadows swirling around her shoulders like armor.

“The Queen,” she said softly. “Your mother.”

“Yes.”

“And you came here to stop her?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I came here for you.”

Her jaw clenched. “You should have stayed away.”

Another explosion rocked the tower.

Dust rained from the ceiling. Sparks shot from the torches. Metal clashed above us.

The Council was descending.

My hand went to my sword. Her hand tightened around her blade.

Her eyes met mine. Not with love. Not with softness. But with a shared understanding. We were about to fight together. Not because she forgave me. Not because we were allies. But because the tower wanted us both dead.

“Mira,” I said, “stay behind me.”

Her answer was a quiet, familiar blade of defiance.

“I will stay behind no one.”

The doors burst open.

Council guards stormed into the chamber.

And Mira stepped forward, shadows rising like a second skin.

I followed her into the violence.

Because even if she hated me, even if she never forgave me, even if she wished I had died instead of her old self, one truth remained clear.

I would not lose her again.