She Chose the Wrong Hero

Elira couldn't sleep.

She sat by the window in her chamber, her fingers resting on the cool glass, watching the city lights flicker like stars that had fallen too close to the ground. Somewhere out there, Kael was awake too. She knew it.

He would be asking questions. He'd want to know why she changed. Why she looked at him like a stranger. Why she refused his hand.

And she had no answer he'd believe.

She closed her eyes, remembering the warmth in his voice, the look in his eyes when he saw her again.

He still thinks I'm his.

A soft sound broke her thoughts.

Rustle. Slide.

She turned.

A slip of parchment had been pushed under her door.

Elira crossed the room and picked it up. No seal. No name. Only a single line:

"Meet me at the west garden. Midnight."

Her heart jumped.

She folded the note slowly.

It wasn't Kael's handwriting.

The west garden was quiet when she arrived. The moon sat low behind the trees, casting silver shadows over stone paths and tall hedges. She wore her cloak, hood up, boots silent against the gravel.

A figure stood near the fountain, back straight, arms crossed.

He turned as she stepped into the light.

Aeren.

Elira's breath caught.

He looked different tonight. Not just because he wore black instead of his usual soft grays. It was the way he watched her—calm, quiet, but with sharp eyes that missed nothing.

"You came," he said.

"You asked."

A long silence stretched between them.

"I wanted to see if I was right," he said finally. "You're not the same Elira I remember."

Her throat tightened. "You don't know me that well."

"That's true," Aeren said softly. "But I've always watched. Even when you didn't see me."

That made her flinch. Just a little.

"I know how you looked at Kael," he said. "Back then. How you trusted him. How you followed him."

She said nothing.

"And now?" he asked. "Now you won't even take his hand."

Elira stepped closer, her voice low. "Because I've seen what he becomes."

Aeren's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

She hesitated. The truth trembled on her tongue.

But no—she couldn't say it. Not yet. Not when the world was still fragile. Not when Kael was still only a boy and not yet the monster.

Instead, she asked, "Do you trust him?"

Aeren was quiet for a long time. Then he said, "I used to. Not anymore."

Their eyes met.

And just for a second, everything was quiet.

Not the garden. Not the wind.

Just them.

"I made the wrong choice once," Elira said. "I won't do it again."

Aeren's gaze softened, but his voice stayed steady. "Then be careful, Elira. Because some mistakes don't give second chances."

He turned to leave—but stopped.

"Next time," he said, not looking back, "if you want to talk... don't wait for midnight."

Then he walked into the shadows and was gone.

Elira stood alone in the garden, the moonlight turning her cloak to silver.

And far above the city, from the tallest tower, Kael watched from behind a curtain of light.

He had seen her.

He had seen who she met.

And something inside him began to burn.