Chapter 1

She found it tucked between two crumbling ledgers, its leather cover cracked and dry. A single silver rune glowed faintly on the front, pulsing in time with the ache behind her eyes. She had to be quick. The archives were warded against magic, and every second she spent here drained her strength.

A floorboard creaked behind her.

Seraphina froze. She didn't turn, didn't breathe. Her hand tightened on the book as she listened—slow, deliberate footsteps, the kind that belonged to someone who knew exactly where they were going.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

His voice was low, measured, and carried no surprise. She turned slowly to face Sir Kaelen, a knight of the Crimson Guard, his grey eyes fixed on her with the calm certainty of a man who had already decided how this would end.

“Neither are you,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “The archives are closed after midnight.”

He didn’t smile. “I was informed of an intruder. I see the report was accurate.”

She clutched the book closer. “I’m not stealing. I just need to read something.”

“The restricted section is for the Chancellor’s eyes only. You know that.” He took a step forward, and she instinctively stepped back, her shoulder blades pressing against a shelf. “Hand over the book, and I’ll forget I saw you.”

“You won’t forget anything. You’re a knight of the Crimson Guard. Your oath demands you report me.”

His jaw tightened. “Then don’t make me choose between my oath and my conscience.”

That word—conscience—caught her off guard. She studied his face, looking for the cold certainty she expected. Instead, she saw a flicker of something else. Doubt, maybe. Or curiosity.

“You serve the entity that created the Crimson Moon,” she said, her voice dropping. “Do you even know what it is? What it’s done to people like me?”

“I serve the kingdom,” he said, but the words came out slower, as if he were testing them. “The Crimson Moon is a symbol. A source of power that protects our borders.”

“It’s a curse,” she snapped. “It’s eating this land alive, and you’re standing guard over the very thing that’s killing us.”

His hand moved to his sword, but he didn’t draw. “You speak of things you don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you know.” She let the curse surface, just a thread of it—a flicker of amethyst in her eyes, a shimmer of silver in her hair. “I carry a piece of it inside me. Every night, it whispers to me. It tells me things the Chancellor would never let you hear.”

Kaelen’s eyes widened, but he didn’t flinch. “You’re one of the afflicted.”

“I’m a sorceress trying to survive.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The only sound was the soft hum of the ward runes and the distant howl of wind outside. Seraphina saw the war raging behind his eyes—duty versus something new, something he hadn’t expected to feel.

Then he stepped forward, reaching for the book.

She reacted without thinking. A pulse of silver light shot from her free hand, not aimed at him, but at the nearest window. The glass shattered, and she lunged toward the opening, hoping to escape into the night.

But the curse chose that moment to flare. It seized her muscles, turned her limbs to lead, and sent a spike of cold through her chest. She crumpled, the book sliding from her grasp, and hit the stone floor hard.

The world swam. She heard Kaelen’s footsteps, felt strong arms catch her before her head struck the ground. Her vision blurred, but she could still see his face—no longer stern, but etched with concern.

“What are you?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She tried to answer, but the darkness pulled her under. The last thing she felt was his hand cradling the back of her head, steady and warm against the cold stone.

And then, nothing.