POV: Kaelen"You can break every mirror in the world, but the reflections always find a way to bleed."The morning wind swept across the sunlit courtyard, carrying the sharp, metallic scent of ozone and crushed green leaves. I stood beside Soren on the upper terrace, our fingers locked together so tightly our knuckles ached, staring down at the dozen cloaked figures standing motionless among the glittering shards of glass."They are not monsters," Soren murmured, his voice low and raspy from the magic he had just burned through in the vault. His gray eyes narrowed, tracking every slight movement below. "Those are human robes.""Acolytes," I whispered, feeling a cold shiver run down my spine despite the warm morning sun beating down on our backs. "They survived the glass wave. Or they welcomed it."Before Soren could answer, Varek and Tristan stepped out onto the terrace behind us, both of them breathing hard, their weapons still slick with frost and soot."Your Grace," Varek growled,

"Falling into eternity sounds poetic until you realize there is no bottom to catch you."The air rushed past my ears with a deafening roar, tearing the breath straight from my lungs as Soren and I plummeted into the swirling darkness of the mirror sphere. The world around us dissolved into an endless, infinite maze of shattered glass and blinding white light, fracturing our reflections into a million screaming pieces."Kaelen!" Soren shouted over the deafening howl of the void, his voice cracking with desperation as he reached out through the tumbling wind."I am right here!" I screamed back, forcing my arms through the biting pressure to catch his hand. Our fingers locked together with a desperate, crushing grip, the golden thread between our souls flaring like a beacon against the dark."Do not let go!" he yelled, pulling me flush against his chest just as a wall of absolute zero wind slammed into us from the side, sending us spinning out of control."I am never letting go of you!"

"Waking up next to the person you love shouldn't feel like the moment you find out you are already dead."The first thing I felt was not the cold marble of the palace or the sharp crystal of the abyss, but the heavy, suffocating warmth of the morning sun pressing against my eyelids."Soren," I choked out, my voice cracking as my eyes snapped open.He was lying right beside me, sprawled out on the damp cobblestones of the capital courtyard. His chest wasn't moving."Soren, wake up," I whispered, scrambling across the grass and throwing myself over his chest, my hands shaking so violently I could barely grip the lapels of his tunic. "Soren, look at me! Do not you dare leave me here after all of that!""Stop shaking me... my head feels like it was split open by an axe," he groaned, his eyes fluttering open as a weak, raspy cough racked his frame.I let out a sob of pure, overwhelming relief, burying my face in his neck and wrapping my arms around him so tightly my muscles ached. "You abs

"If you want to know if a kingdom is truly damned, do not look at its borders; look at what bleeds through the cracks in its palace floor.""Soren, stop moving!" I spat, forcing his shoulders back against the stone wall of our bedchamber while my fingers pressed frantically over his chest."I am fine!" Soren rasped, though another shallow, wet cough tore through his throat, leaving dark flecks of soot blooming across his knuckles. "It is just... residual ash from the staff. It is not going to kill me.""It is turning our core purple!" I yelled, my voice cracking right down the middle as my star-frost flared across my palms, trying to chase the dark, bruised discoloration back toward his heart. "Do not lie to me, Soren! I can feel what is inside you through the bond. It feels like rotting timber!""Then help me clean it out," he whispered, his gray eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my throat tighten. He grabbed my wrists, pulling my hands flush against his linen shirt

"Stone does not grow overnight unless it is fed by the blood of an empire."The morning wind whipped through the shattered archways of the palace terrace, carrying the dry, suffocating scent of burnt soil and old iron. I gripped the cold stone balustrade, my knuckles turning white as I stared out at the eastern horizon where the jagged black towers continued to stretch upward like crooked fingers clawing at the sky."They are moving," Soren said, his voice dangerously low as he stepped up beside me. His hand found mine, his fingers tangling with my own with a crushing, desperate grip that communicated every ounce of fear he refused to say out loud. "Look at the base of the spires. The ground is churning.""It is not just an army, Soren," I whispered, my eyes burning as I watched dark, billowing clouds of ash pour from the top of the towers, blotting out the rising sun and turning the sky a bruised, sickly violet. "It is a second capital. They are building a fortress right on our doors