Aurora groaned, kneading her shoulders until the ache dulled. Running from Karl had been hell. The boy—no, the man now—had chased them through the forest with Samantha’s soldiers at his back. After battling a goddess, her lungs had burned; her legs shook. Only fear for her daughter’s safety had carried her farther than strength ever could.

  And, miraculously, Karl stopped chasing.

  In the forest, he and Julius paused to lock eyes. And Karl had hesitated. Foolish lovers restraint, the old Aurora would have thought.

  But in that moment, she had wondered if, in life, she had missed something crucial. It reminded her of leaving Kristo for Milo almost two decades ago. Leaving him stranded in the wreckage she left behind.

  Without Karl, Samantha’s men stopped chasing.

  So they reached the ocean by dawn. Stole a boat. Stopped taking chances. Stopped looking back.

  Now, in the palace room of Sunji, the world was quiet. Outside the window, the sea stretched endless and gray.

  And Amy slept beside her, breathing soft and steady.

  Aurora stared.

  She’s… perfect. Impossibly.

  She’s calm and composed… Peaceful in a way neither Milo nor I ever were.

  The regret came in waves.

  Yes, acknowledging she cared about Amy ripped a wound that was stitched in her heart.

  My daughter has his confidence without his cruelty. My strength without my rage.

  She’s not what I deserve — or what Milo ever did.

  But she’s here.

  And she’s with me.

  Doesn’t deserve to be with me… Have a mom like me.

  Aurora brushed a strand of hair from Amy’s cheek. Her hand trembled.

  Thomas had taken Cerceras with him. That was how it passed on—through murderous intent.

  She remembered the old myths she’d studied as empress—Ysalva born of the Amazons, Cerceras of the Centaurs. They clashed, and in the battle she was lost. And he was imprisoned, buried.

  She frowned, retreating into the corner of the dim room.

  Cerceras.

  She still had nightmares of holding his power. Of when he had worn the skin of Milo, whispering to her. With the same voice. Same cadence. But a different person in subtle ways.

  He’d called her darling. Told her the world was rotten. That she was right to burn it. Not that Milo hadn’t.

  But he wasn’t the same.

  Before Christopher tore him out, she had nearly gone mad.

  She closed her eyes again.

  The nightmares remained.

  But the fact that Amy was breathing nearby brought her back.

  She watched her daughter sleep peacefully.

  I thought I would never see you again. That you could never live to know me.

  But things had changed. And maybe now, even the mad empress could finally find peace.

  Yes.

  Aurora breathed.

  She had to hold on to that thought.

  She felt the wooden mat under her fingers, focused on the pattern and her breathing. Reminded herself of the present: We are in Sunji.

  She stood, getting ready to move out of the room, focusing on her breathing.

  Getting an audience with the empress had been easy.

  Power opened doors anywhere—especially in a land without magic.

  Explaining Samantha’s threat had been easier still.

  But Mel, Empress of Sunji, was a serpent in silk.

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  Aurora could tell even before she spoke.

  Empress Mel smiled like a saint, but calculated like a viper.

  Aurora had to admire the commitment — even her smiles were strategic.

  The people here all had black hair and graceful eyes.

  Just like Milo.

  The resemblance made Aurora’s stomach twist.

  He’s from here, she’d realized.

  That could be why Samantha wants it.

  She remembered the old reports from her reign—

  Rumors that Milo had once been powerless.

  Like the people on this continent.

  Then he stole from Cerceras.

  Ruined everything.

  But even then — even without magic — he’d been dangerous. Caused havoc. A resourceful son of a bitch.

  Aurora stood on the balcony, watching Sunji’s servants move below in perfect harmony.

  She recognized the pattern.

  The illusion of civility built on fear.

  She smiled faintly.

  It reminded of the old Crystal Kingdom that she and Milo destroyed.

  And now, she would have to learn their game all over again.

  But this time, she wouldn’t play to win, or for power, or for revenge.

  How quaint.

  Because for the first time in her life, she would play to protect, to build.

  A life for Amy.

  —-

  Aurora crossed the long corridor toward the throne room.

  The air smelled of incense and polished steel.

  Mel waited ahead. She was a vision of grace wrapped in layered silk, spine straight.

  Her beauty reminded Aurora of Samantha. Not in face, but in effect.

  Both immaculate — and dangerous.

  But Aurora saw through them.

  They were the same kind of monster, only dressed with different, flawless faces.

  While Samantha had been chaos, Mel was control.

  One ruled through passion; the other through precision.

  Aurora didn’t need a history book to know Mel hadn’t been born into the position to rule.

  She’d taken the throne.

  Through blood.

  Through trickery.

  Through conquest.

  To Aurora, recognizing that was child’s play. Because she was no stranger to thrones, or the people who’d kill to sit on them.

  So she had employed her light magic. White lightning that tore from the sky.

  The news she brought, that an army of magic users was crossing the sea, sealed the deal.

  Aurora was not the biggest threat.

  She was a potential ally, asset, and friend.

  The person the new empress needed on her side.

  And as the fallen empress of an enemy kingdom, she was also an invaluable source of information.

  Aurora bowed gracefully, a social flourish she had easily adopted since coming here.

  She chuckled softly. Julius, Princessa, and Bennet couldn’t understand a word on this continent.

  But when Amy was kidnapped overseas, she had spoken their language easily.

  Because of Cerceras.

  Without even noticing.

  Cerceras had once spoken in dreams, slipping through the minds of those he touched.

  Language wasn’t speech to him—it was thought.

  And he was inside Amy. So when Amy spoke, she didn’t even realize she wasn’t using her native tongue.

  It was eerie, but incredibly useful.

  And a reminder of how deeply Cerceras impacted his victims.

  “Rise,” Mel said. Her voice carried with the practiced smoothness of someone who had spent years being obeyed. “The woman with lightning in her hands. My guards say you tore the sky open.”

  Aurora straightened, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Yes.”

  A faint smile touched Mel’s lips. “Don’t worry. In Sunji, we don’t fear monsters. We learn from them.”

  Aurora smirked. She’d heard that before, usually from the monster.

  “You speak our tongue well—too well for someone who claims to come from the other side of the sea.”

  Aurora shrugged, pretending disinterest. “I was the former empress across the sea. I knew of this place and had my own child smuggled here to live a peaceful life. So I had a scout learn your words, your customs. She reported to me.”

  Mel’s fan paused mid-motion. “You studied us?”

  “I study anything that could kill me later.”

  That same scout had sent reports about Amy—quietly, discretely, through Kristo. Amy never knew.

  Mel gestured toward the cushions below. “Sit, if you wish. You’ve traveled far. They tell me you fought soldiers of flame.”

  Aurora sat, posture precise. “Yes. Samantha. She leads them. She’ll come for you next.”

  Mel regarded her over the rim of her fan. “And why tell me this?”

  “Because if she wins, there won’t be a ‘you’ left to tell.”

  The empress’s smile didn’t fade, but her fan stopped moving. “Direct. I appreciate that.”

  Of course you do, Aurora thought. The elegant ones always do, right until they realize they’re not the cleverest in the room.

  “Tell me,” Mel said. “Where does your power come from?”

  Aurora hesitated long enough for the silence to stretch. Then she smiled faintly. “From a bad habit of surviving.”

  Mel’s eyes glimmered, amused. “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s the only one that matters.”

  They regarded each other for a while—the foreign sorceress and the native goddess—both too proud to look away. Mel had that dangerous, polished beauty Aurora had seen before in rulers who believed their own myths.

  Mel’s servants looked at her warily.

  Aurora almost smirked. They think I’m a goddess. I guess beats the crazy alley lady.

  But that intrigue her citizens have are a threat to Mel. Her eyes flicked downward. She’s already planning on dealing with me later after we neutralize our shared enemy.

  Mel gave a melodic laugh. “You’re not afraid of me?”

  No need to lie. “I have white lightning. Should I be?”

  That laugh again, real this time, surprised. “What an answer.”

  “I get that a lot.”

  Mel studied her a moment longer. “Stay in the palace. Help me stop this Samantha. When it’s over, I’ll see you repaid.”

  Sure you will. A knife between the ribs wrapped in silk? Or poison in the water basin?

  “I don’t need repayment.”

  “Everyone does.”

  Aurora hesitated, long enough that it didn’t sound rehearsed. “Yes, but I just want safety. For my daughter. Amy.”

  Mel’s expression softened just slightly.

  But Aurora knew it was all for play.

  “Ah, so all this is for love?”

  Aurora nodded, eyes flickering away.

  Mel laughed. “Then we understand each other.” She leaned forward. “Together we can stop this threat — and, perhaps after, build something together.”

  Aurora sighed inwardly, though outwardly composed. She nodded.

  Mel rose from her throne, silk whispering around her like water. “Rest, Lightning Goddess. You’ve earned it.”

  Aurora gave a faint, tired smile. “Rest has never been my talent.”

  Mel’s eyes glimmered. “No. I imagine not.”

  Aurora bowed once more, turned, and left the chamber. The corridor beyond stretched long and silent. Her footsteps echoed.

  She kept her expression composed, though her thoughts swirled. So we are supposed to stop Samantha and my former army of trained soldiers. With magic.

  She groaned, rubbing her eyes, wanting to scream at the sun. I should’ve stayed in the alley.

  But Amy’s here.

  So I’ll play the game again.

  For my dear Amy.