Chapter 7: The Hidden Flame
Three days.
That was all the time Valerian had before the Obsidian Gate opened—and before the unknown creators of his soul crossed through it.
He could feel it now. The pressure in the air. The buzzing in his blood. Magic itself recoiled from the Gate's energy, as if the world feared what lay beyond.
But Valerian wasn't afraid.
He was angry.
Angry that someone—something—had designed him. Angry that his life had always been part of a larger scheme. Angry that the answers were buried behind a choice that could shatter his mind.
And despite all that, he still hadn't drunk the vial.
"Stalling won't help forever."
Valerian didn't need to look up to recognize the voice.
Seraphine.
She stood in the shadow of his dormitory's balcony, her long white hair catching the glow of starlight, her blue eyes piercing as always.