Darkness erupted from Lion in a torrential wave, the unleashed power of the third shattered chain making the void tremble. Marlena—the Conclave's impostor Archon—was hurled backward, crashing into the spectral visage of the Crown. For the first time, fear flickered in her mercury-colored eyes.
"Impossible..." She wiped blood from her lips. "Three seals broken—you should be a mindless puppet by now!"
Lion stood his ground, grappling with the warring consciousnesses inside him. The Shadow Prince's voice grew clearer, yet to his astonishment, it carried no malice—only a profound, aching sorrow.
"See the truth, vessel."
The Prince's memories flooded Lion's mind:
The Cataclysm three centuries past had never been the Shadowkin's doing. It was the Conclave and dragonkin's design—they'd discovered shadowblood could stabilize chaotic energies. Thus, they'd forged the Crown as a device to harvest Shadowhearts as fuel. And Selene's mother—the true founding Archon—had been the architect of this atrocity.
"Lies!" Marlena shrieked, lashing out with her silver needle. Golden fire from the Crown coalesced into a whip aimed at Lion's throat. "Mother saved this world!"
Shadow-forged steel materialized in Lion's grip, severing the flame-whip effortlessly. But what stunned him more was the control he wielded—the Prince's consciousness wasn't consuming him. They were merging.
"Because we were never two."
The voice now echoed with his own timbre.
The void convulsed again. A jagged fissure split the ceiling, spewing molten rock and the deafening roar of the erupting volcano.
Marlena seized her chance, lunging for the Crown with needle poised. "If I can't have a Shadowheart, I'll—"
A streak of black-fire.
The real Selene dropped through the fissure, blood-soaked and glorious, the scar across her nose blazing crimson. Her right arm was fully crystallized, but her left wielded a dagger wreathed in ebony flames—parrying Marlena's strike with lethal precision.
"Sister," she rasped, voice ravaged, "you forgot our vow."
Marlena's face contorted. "You lived?! The Hearteater swore she—"
"Ate my heart?" Selene tore her collar open, revealing the ghastly wound in her chest—where a tiny golden flame pulsed in place of flesh. "Thanks to you, I learned the Ember's true purpose."
The Crown emitted a piercing whine. The trapped specter thrashed violently as Lion's Shadowheart hammered against his ribs, some primordial resonance binding crown and chest.
"Lion, NOW!" Selene shouted. "Free them with Shadowtouch!"
Marlena moved to intercept—only for Calvin to barrel through the chaos, his right arm missing, the stump charred by dragonfire. He grinned through bloody teeth. "Need a hand, kid?"
Lion charged the Crown. Tendrils of shadow pierced its structure, revealing—
Hundreds of imprisoned Shadowkin souls.
They curled in spectral cages, each with an energy siphon burrowed into their chests—feeding power directly to generations of Conclave elders and dragon queens.
"Their secret to immortality."
The Prince's voice trembled with centuries-old rage.
Lion didn't hesitate.
The fourth chain—
Shattered.