Song vibe: Singularity – BTS

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  SAPHIRA

  The Solar, Firestone Castle

  Twilight draped Firestone in violet shadow when Saphira sought out Felix. She told him everything—August’s predicament, Nocturne’s missing letters, and Lucian’s plan to free her from the nightmares.

  Felix listened in the half-light, the fire painting gold across his face. When she finished, he gave a tired smile and touched her shoulder. “I’ll take care of it—whoever is taking Nox's letters will be punished.” But the shadow in his eyes lingered long after the smile was gone.

  That evening, the Solar was prepared for Lucian’s dream walking.

  Livia spread a bed of furs beside the hearth, while Verity tended the oils until the air was thick with lavender and frankincense.

  Marigold brought Isaias and Charmaine for a brief visit, the chaos of children helping Saphira take her mind off the daunting task ahead.

  Felix and Lysander waited nearby—a quiet watchfulness settling between them.

  “Chamomile and valerian root,” Verity murmured, sliding a teacup toward Saphira. “Just to relax you.” Her hand hovered, the guilt over the snakeroot in her emerald eyes. “I’ll… take a sip first, if you’d prefer.”

  “Verity—don’t punish yourself for what happened. I trust you.” Saphira accepted the cup, the steam warming her cheek. She turned to Felix and Lysander. “Have either of you dream walked with Lucian before?”

  “I watched over Rell while he did,” Lysander said. “He slept like a baby, while I drank champagne.”

  “And I did—for Nocturne,” Felix added quietly. “If things get too intense, we’ll wake you. Lucian will understand.” He paused, then added quietly, “We’ll give you privacy, my Lady—but we’ll stay close.”

  Satisfied, Saphira drained the tea and handed the cup back. Felix and Lysander withdrew to the far table, their low murmurs blending with the scratch of quills and the soft clink of glass.

  Verity knelt beside her. “Here,” she murmured, brushing her fingers over Saphira’s forehead. “Breathe slowly. Close your eyes.” Her fingertips began to work through Saphira’s hair, gentle and rhythmic. "Relax."

  Saphira exhaled, letting her weight sink into the furs. The fire crackled as Verity’s massage lulled her to sleep. The scent of lavender oil swirled around her, then thinned into something else—mist, wind, distance.

  Her lashes fluttered once, twice—and the Solar blurred.

  When Saphira opened her eyes, the world had changed. Above her stretched the star-shot sky—the same endless sweep Nocturne had shown her from the highest tower of Firestone Keep.

  “It’s…beautiful,” she breathed, running to the edge of the parapet.

  “Hello, sleepy.” Lucian stood against the stone, arms folded, moonlight running through his dark hair. “Are you ready to go?”

  "As long as you don't call me princess," she joked dryly, though she did not laugh.

  "Princess isn't a title but a way of being, and you embody the idea of 'princess'." Lucian smirked, looking around at the sea of sparkling stars. "Just look at this place—the detail, the splendour—it's exactly how a princess dreams."

  She swallowed, her mouth dry. “Can I be hurt inside my dream?”

  “The dream attacks your mind—but sometimes, that has consequences for your body.” Lucian’s fingers closed over the hilt of the dagger at his hip, and he pulled it half out. Moonlight pooled along the blade; the metal seemed half-liquid. “This is the Dreamer’s Knife. The true form of my twin blades. The only weapon in existence that can harm both dream and dreamer.” He paused. “But…something else is making you hesitate, isn’t it?”

  Above: Lucian reveals the Dreamer's Knife.

  “I’m afraid of what you might see, Lucian,” she admitted. "And what you may relay to Nocturne."

  “I’ll never speak of it—not to you, not even to Nocturne. What you reveal is up to you.” Lucian offered his hand, palm up, his usual levity softened by solemn promise. “Deal?”

  She nodded and set her fingers in his palm. His grip was sure, impersonal—the strength of someone trained never to tremble—all without the quiet tenderness of Nocturne's touch.

  “No matter what happens, don’t let go. Lose me here, and I can’t find you again.” Their fingers interlaced—a mechanical, deliberate gesture. Lucian’s smile flickered back. “Lovely night for a walk, don’t you think?”

  Together, they stepped off the parapet. But they did not fall. They walked through the sky, effortlessly, as Firestone shrank below them. Clouds surged up and met their feet; below, rivers glinted like threads of molten silver.

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  “This is… impossible,” Saphira breathed, gripping Lucian’s hand so tightly it hurt. “We’re flying.”

  “Aye,” Lucian said, the wind tugging at his voice. “It never loses its thrill.” His teal eyes flicked toward her, a glint of amusement beneath the calm. “Let’s see what your mind’s hiding from you. Don’t fight it—just close your eyes.”

  She obeyed. The wind roared, then vanished.

  When she opened her eyes again, sunlight spilled through green canopies. Grass brushed her slippers. The forest breathed—alive, whispering, waiting.

  “That was…quick,” Lucian said with a half-laugh.

  “Where are we?”

  A sound, faint as a breath, came from deeper within. She turned toward it.

  A gate stood in the clearing, half-swallowed by roots. Wards shimmered over the wood like dying fireflies.

  “Fye… this thing is ancient.” Lucian stepped closer, awe shadowing his face. “Someone sealed part of your bloodline away. This gate’s your mind’s way of showing it.”

  The light of the wards flickered weakly. “They’re breaking,” Saphira murmured. “The nightmares are slipping out.”

  “Then it’s time to open it.”

  Her fingers moved before thought could catch them. She felt a cold crystal key in her pocket. The key turned easily in the lock. It was never meant to keep things out…

  The gate swung inward. Wind rushed past them, and the world tilted.

  They began to walk—but the path fell away beneath their feet.

  Roots twisted like ropes; the air sharpened. The trees thickened into black ribs that pressed around them, closing in. Down they went—narrower, steeper—the smell of earth and iron rising as if the forest itself were exhaling.

  “Slow down, Saph—”

  But she could not. The ground sloped faster, pulling her forward, faster still—until the trees blurred, and the last of the light vanished.

  The path ended in a wall of rock smothered with ivy.

  Saphira caught herself, breath ragged. The ivy quivered, alive, then shrank from her touch—revealing three dark mouths in the stone.

  “Three entry points?” Lucian inhaled, no humour left in his voice. “Fye… People usually have one entrance—I’ve seen two before, and that’s rare. But three?”

  “I’m supposed to pick one path, aren’t I?” Saphira’s throat tightened. “How? They all feel right.”

  Above: The cave entrance.

  She stepped toward the first cave on the left. A warm current drifted out, scented faintly of honey and crushed petals. From its depths, a voice called—light, lilting, heartbreakingly beautiful.

  “Sister…”

  The sound shimmered through her bones. For a moment, she saw the flash of lavender silk spun of moonlight, the flutter of laughter, a thousand mirrored faces smiling back at her. A promise of ease, of being adored, of never feeling alone. Her chest ached with longing.

  “Be careful, princess.” Lucian’s hand squeezed tightly. “The sweetest voices often belong to the craftiest hunters.”

  The spell broke. She tore her eyes away and turned to the cave on the right.

  Heat rolled out in heavy waves. Inside, the rock glowed with shifting black flame—alive, hungry. Sparks hissed and died on the ground like dying stars. She took an involuntary step closer, drawn by the thrum beneath her skin. Then the scent hit her—iron and smoke. The hairs on her neck rose.

  “This entrance—” Lucian’s palm brushed the hilt of the Dreamer’s Knife. “—Is that where you want to go?”

  “It wants to devour me.” She shook her head, breath shallow. “But…the power—it’s in there.”

  Between the two, the centre cave waited. No glow, no sound—only a slow pulse, like a heartbeat trapped beneath the earth. The air that drifted from it was cool and clean, threaded with rosewater.

  Then came the word, barely a whisper: “My daughter…”

  Saphira staggered. The scent pierced her heart—the rose oil her mother used to wear when brushing her hair at night.

  “Her voice…” Her throat tightened, pushing the rising lump down. “My mother’s.”

  Lucian’s face softened, wary but silent.

  The middle cave did not beckon with sweetness or power. It waited—steady, human, real. Saphira, trembling, understood that this one belonged to her the most.

  “This entrance,” she whispered. “This one is the way.”

  “You’ll need to go first,” Lucian said. “If I lead, your mind will twist the path just to spite me.” A smile curved his mouth—half dare, half reassurance. “Go on, princess. I’ll be right behind you.”

  She squared her shoulders and stepped into the darkness. The rock glittered faintly as they passed, the veins of crystalith pulsing like living light. She followed its heartbeat—left, then right—deeper and deeper into herself.

  This is…too familiar. Saphira ran her fingertips over the cool stone. She felt a strange hum, almost like a heartbeat, and she followed it, twisting and turning. “It’s…like it’s alive.”

  “Keep moving,” Lucian said tightly.

  Each turn she made without thought, moving only closer towards the heartbeat within. Deeper still, the stone walls thinned, leaving more crystalith than rock, the path strangely familiar.

  "I think I've seen this place before," she whispered. "How is that possible?"

  Saphira’s heart pounded as they walked down into the heart of the cave. The air grew warmer, the sound of a heartbeat resounding from the stone—an ancient heart of pale flame and power.

  A sense of dread filled her.

  The tunnel widened suddenly, swallowing them in light.

  Above: Into the crystalith cave.

  For a moment, Saphira could not see—the air itself burned white. The crystalith walls throbbed with a pulse that was not hers, each beat shaking through her bones.

  This place...

  The pulse multiplied—one heartbeat, then two, then three—echoes trapped in stone. The light flared. When it faded, the chamber took shape around them, vast and blinding. Every surface glittered, floor to ceiling with crystalith, as if carved from frozen lightning.

  “I’ve stood here before,” she whispered, standing frozen. “I recognise this place.” Memories bled up from the dark: the smell of blood on crystal, the sound of her own scream. Her pulse stumbled. “This is… where my mother died. Nightspawn killed her. But I don't remember much...”

  Lucian’s hand dropped to his dagger. “I'll handle it—”

  Two figures walked out from behind the stalagmites of crystalith.

  A woman in a plain white robe, her hair a waterfall of violet silk. A man beside her, tall, charming, his steel eyes catching the light like sharpened blades—and in his hand, a cane with a dragon’s claw on the top.

  Then, the man turned. The lines of his face were the same as the day she had fled Renatus—unchanged, untouched by time—his blonde hair perfectly in place.

  “Father—” she rasped.

  “Almighty…” Lucian’s voice came faint, disbelieving. “Crassus hasn’t aged a day.” He hesitated, his gaze flicking to the woman. “That’s—?”

  The woman turned—and the world seemed to still.

  “Mother…” Saphira breathed, her eyes catching on the ducal ring gleaming at Crassus' finger. “How? You're supposed to be dead. You died here.”

  Almighty… what is happening? Mother died here… but why is Father here too? He’s not supposed to be here.

  Lady Alariel faced her daughter. The same violet eyes—Saphira’s eyes—shimmered with twilight light, heavy with heartbreak and love.