Lucian barely had time to draw a breath before the world around them shifted.
The moment he and Selene stepped into the tear, the landscape blurred—silver grass and shifting stars dissolving into an overwhelming nothingness. For a fraction of a second, it felt as if they were weightless, drifting in an abyss without up or down.
Then the world snapped into place.
Lucian stumbled forward, his boots hitting solid ground. Heat pressed against his skin, and the air smelled of burning embers. He straightened, eyes narrowing as he took in his surroundings.
They were standing in the middle of a vast volcanic plain, lava rivers cutting through jagged black rock. The sky was a deep crimson, thick clouds of ash rolling in the distance. It was a land of fire and destruction.
Selene's grip on his arm tightened. "Lucian," she whispered.
He turned to her, about to ask if she was all right—
Then he saw it.
Before them stood a grand fortress of obsidian and flame, its towers stretching impossibly high into the sky. Its massive gates, adorned with the sigil of a phoenix wreathed in fire, loomed like the entrance to a forgotten kingdom.
Lucian's breath caught. He knew this place.
The Emberlands.
His homeland.
But that was impossible. The Emberlands were far behind them, lost to war and betrayal. Yet here it stood, untouched by time.
A figure stood at the gates.
Lucian's heart clenched. His father.
King Alaric of the Emberlands, his armor gleaming like molten gold, his piercing amber eyes fixed on Lucian. The sight sent a wave of emotions crashing through him—anger, sorrow, longing.
Selene stepped closer, her voice wary. "Lucian… this isn't real."
He knew that. He did. But the heat, the scent of burning wood, the familiar clang of the forge in the distance—it felt real.
"Lucian," Alaric called, his voice strong, commanding. "Come home, my son."
Lucian swallowed hard. His father hadn't called him 'son' in years. Not since he had been banished.
Selene's grip tightened. "This is what Elaris warned us about. The illusion is showing you what you want most."
Lucian clenched his fists. "Then why is it showing him?" His voice was bitter, edged with old wounds. "I never wanted to see him again."
Selene turned him to face her, her ice-blue eyes searching his. "Are you sure?"
Lucian opened his mouth to argue—but the words died before they could form.
Because a part of him had wanted this.
A chance to go back. A chance to be acknowledged. To not be the exiled prince, the traitor's son.
Alaric extended a hand. "Come back, Lucian. All is forgiven."
Lucian wavered. His feet felt rooted to the ground, his body torn between reason and longing.
Then Selene's voice cut through the haze.
"If you go to him, you'll never leave."
Lucian turned to her, confusion flickering across his face. "What?"
She motioned around them. "This place—it feeds on your desires. If you give in, you won't find your way out."
Lucian glanced back at the fortress. His father's expression was unreadable now, his outstretched hand unwavering.
It was a lie.
A beautiful, painful lie.
Lucian exhaled sharply and turned away. "This isn't real."
The moment he spoke the words, the fortress wavered like ripples in water. The ground beneath them cracked, and the heat of the Emberlands began to fade.
Alaric's face twisted—not in anger, but in something almost sad. Then, like smoke in the wind, he vanished.
The fortress crumbled, the rivers of lava cooled into stone. The sky above shifted, the red bleeding into darkness.
Lucian blinked. They were standing in an entirely new place.
A field of ice and snow.
Selene inhaled sharply. Lucian didn't have to ask—this illusion was for her.
A grand palace of frozen glass stood before them, its spires glistening under an ethereal aurora. The air was crisp and cold, but beneath the frost lay something familiar.
The Winter Court.
Selene's home.
A tall, regal woman stood at the entrance, her silver hair braided intricately, her ice-blue eyes mirroring Selene's own.
Lucian had seen her only once before in an old portrait.
Queen Lysara, Selene's mother.
She smiled warmly. "My daughter."
Selene stiffened, her entire body going rigid. "No."
Lysara took a graceful step forward. "Come home, my love. It's been so long."
Selene's lips parted, her breath uneven. Lucian saw the raw emotion in her eyes—anger, sadness, grief.
"I am home," she said hoarsely. "With him."
Lucian's heart twisted at her words.
Lysara frowned. "He is not your destiny, Selene."
Selene swallowed hard. "And you are not real."
Like before, the illusion shuddered. The ice palace cracked, its walls splintering like fragile glass.
Lysara's expression didn't waver. "If you leave, you can never return."
Selene lifted her chin. "I already left."
The Winter Court dissolved, fading into a swirl of frost and mist. The ground beneath them trembled, the world bending and twisting—
Then suddenly, everything stilled.
Lucian and Selene found themselves in a vast empty space, nothing but endless sky and swirling mist around them.
They stood at the edge of a single, narrow path of light leading forward.
Lucian exhaled slowly. "We did it."
Selene looked at him, still shaken. "That… that felt so real."
He took her hand in his. "But it wasn't."
She nodded, gripping him tightly. "Let's get out of here."
Together, they stepped forward onto the path.
The mist around them shifted, parting like a curtain.
And then—light.
A bright, blinding light engulfed them, warmth wrapping around them like a protective embrace.
The Realm Between vanished.
Lucian felt solid ground beneath him again. He blinked against the sudden change, his vision adjusting—
And then his heart stopped.
They were standing in the middle of a battlefield.
Armored warriors clashed in the distance, fire and magic lighting up the night sky. The banners of the Emberlands and the Winter Court flew on opposite sides, swords clashing, spells colliding.
Selene gasped. "This can't be happening."
Lucian clenched his jaw.
They had escaped the illusions.
But now, they had walked straight into war.