MistNovel - Read Web Novel Stories & Fiction Online

On the fifth night, the dream returned, and this time it did not let her go.
She was standing in a throne room carved from a single, massive geode of black obsidian, every surface polished to a mirror finish. The walls rose to an impossible height, disappearing into shadows that seemed to move and breathe like living things. Great iron torches burned with flames that shifted from crimson to cobalt, casting a light that seemed to devour reflections rather than create them. The air was cool and smelled of ozone, stone, and something else, a faint, sweet scent like night-blooming jasmine and spilled wine.
Victoria looked down at herself and found her body was not her own. She was taller, more imposing, draped in a gown of black fabric that moved like smoke around her ankles. Rings of silver and polished bone adorned her long fingers. A deep, resonant power thrummed under her skin, ancient and vast, a living current that answered to the rhythm of her heartbeat.
This is not me, a part of her mind, the Victoria part, insisted.
But it was. The knowledge settled over her with the weight of absolute truth. She was Queen Nerezza, ruler of the Crimson Court, sovereign of the demon realms. This throne room was hers, carved by her will from the bones of the earth. The power that moved through her veins was hers, earned through blood and sacrifice.
The throne itself sat at the far end of the hall, a terrible and beautiful thing carved from a solid block of obsidian. A crown rested on its seat. It was not made of metal but of living flame that burned without consuming, its light the color of fresh blood.
She walked toward it, her soft-soled shoes making no sound on the polished floor. She knew this path, had walked it a thousand times. The crown called to her, a silent hum of recognition for its mistress. She reached for it, and the flames leaped to meet her fingers, their touch warm and welcoming. The weight settled on her head like a homecoming.
The throne room doors, two massive slabs of stone, swung open without a sound, and he walked in.
Kael. But this was not the cold, controlled security officer from her waking life. This version moved with a lethal grace, dressed in the black, articulated armor of the Shadow Guard, with the hilts of twin blades visible over his shoulders. His eyes, the same stormy gray, found hers across the expansive hall, and the silent hum that had existed between them in the white room became a living storm of energy.
He crossed the space in long, purposeful strides. Victoria’s heart, Nerezza’s heart, raced with a potent mixture of joy, desire, and that same profound recognition. This was her champion, her shadow, the one who had stood at her side through countless battles. The one who understood the weight of her crown and the cost of her power. The one she loved more than her kingdom, more than her own immortal life.
Kael stopped before the throne and dropped to one knee, a gesture of deference that was purely for form between them. When he looked up, his eyes held nothing but devotion.
"My queen," he said, his voice a low rumble that resonated in her chest.
"Rise," she commanded, her own voice deeper, imbued with a power that made the torch flames dance. "We are beyond ceremony, you and I."
He stood, moving so close she could feel the heat radiating from him, could smell the scent of leather, steel, and something that was uniquely his. "I have come to tell you something you will not want to hear."
A cold, sharp fear pierced her. "What have you done?"
"What I had to." His hand came up, cupping her face with a gentleness that was at war with the deep regret in his eyes. "What you would never allow me to do, had I asked for permission."
"Kael..." His name was a warning, a plea.
"I love you," he stated, and then he leaned in to kiss her.
His lips met hers, and the world caught fire. Not as a metaphor, but as a literal truth. The flames of her crown spread, racing down her body, consuming her gown, her skin, everything. There was no pain, only the overwhelming sensation of his mouth on hers. He kissed her as if trying to memorize the taste of her, as if he knew this would be the last time.
When he pulled back, his eyes were wet with unshed tears.
"Forgive me," he whispered.
And then the throne room exploded.
Victoria screamed as the vision shattered, a raw, ragged sound of absolute betrayal. She could still feel the burn of Kael’s kiss on her lips, could still taste his goodbye. She could see the throne room crumbling around her as the spell he must have triggered, the one he had hidden from her, destroyed everything she had ever built. He had betrayed her. He had loved her and he had destroyed her, and she had died still trying to reach for him through the flames.
She woke gasping, her hands clawing at sheets that were too white, too sterile. The monitors were screeching, her heart rate spiking off the charts as she struggled to separate the dream from a memory that felt more real than reality.
The door burst open. Kael rushed in, his professional mask gone, his face etched with alarm as he took in her state. Behind him, alarms blared through the corridor.
"Victoria." Her name was a rough, urgent sound in his mouth. "Breathe. You are safe."
"You killed me," she gasped, the words broken and accusing. "You loved me, and you killed me."
His face went white. For a long, silent moment, he just stared at her, and she saw it all written in his eyes. Recognition. Guilt. An ancient grief that perfectly mirrored her own.
"You remember," he said quietly. It was not a question. It was a confirmation.
Before Victoria could answer, Aster shoved past him, a medical kit in his hand. "What happened? Her vitals are chaotic."
"A nightmare," Kael said, his eyes never leaving Victoria's face. "Just a nightmare."
But they both knew it was a lie. It was a memory. And everything between them had just become impossibly, terrifyingly real.