The white light swallowed Seraphina whole.
Not painfully. Not cold. Just… consuming.
When her eyes adjusted, she stood in a place that defied everything she knew.
There was no ground.
No ceiling.
Only a vast expanse of sky—stars above and below, as if she were floating in the seam between heaven and earth. The air shimmered with translucent threads, like spider silk made of moonlight, stretching endlessly in every direction.
She stepped forward instinctively, but her feet touched nothing solid. Yet she did not fall.
This was not the physical world. This was something deeper. Older.
"Where… am I?" she whispered.
A voice echoed—not from outside, but from within her own mind.
"You have entered the Threadway. The space between what was… and what will be."
She turned sharply, but saw no one.
"I didn't come for riddles," she said aloud.
"And yet, riddles are all that remain for those at the edge of truth."
Suddenly, the space around her shifted. A thread snapped beside her with a faint crack—like lightning in reverse.
Then, a shape began to form ahead.
A girl.
No—herself.
But not as she was now.
This Seraphina was younger. Softer. Eyes wide with pain, with hope, with fear. She looked just as Seraphina had when she first discovered the strange hunger inside her blood after the attack on her village.
The moment she'd first realized she was not fully human.
"Why am I seeing this?" she asked.
The thread shimmered again. Another form took shape—Seraphina, mid-transformation, during the Blood Moon. Her body writhing, bones cracking, screams caught in her throat as she shifted between vampire and wolf.
Then another—Seraphina with crimson eyes, standing over bodies she didn't remember killing.
All the versions of herself… surrounded her.
Watching.
Judging.
Waiting.
Then a soft, new voice:
"Which of us will you become?"
It wasn't an accusation. It was a genuine question.
Seraphina swallowed. "None of you."
"You already have," whispered the broken version of her. "You were me once."
"But I'm not anymore."
"You killed," said the blood-eyed version. "You enjoyed it."
"I survived."
"You hesitated," said the wolf version. "You doubted your power. You almost died."
"I learned."
The air crackled.
Suddenly, all the versions of her merged—spinning into a storm, converging into a radiant form that looked almost like an angel—only darker, edgier, forged in fire and ash.
Then a figure stepped forward from the void.
Vael.
But not Vael as he was.
This Vael had cold, golden eyes. Cruel. Distant. Like the side of him that once stood with the enemy.
"Even I am a choice," he said. "Even love can break you."
She stared at him.
"You are not real."
"No," he agreed. "But I am possible."
And then—Kael appeared behind him.
He wore a crown of bone and flame. He looked at her with disappointment. "I believed in you. But belief isn't always enough."
The versions surrounded her again. A full circle now.
And then, from above—the voice returned.
"The reckoning is not about who you are. It is about who you are willing to leave behind."
Seraphina fell to her knees.
Tears burned down her cheeks—not because she was weak, but because the truth of it all was too heavy to carry in silence anymore.
"I'm tired," she whispered. "I'm tired of being a thousand versions of myself, just to survive everyone else's expectations. I am not just power. Or prophecy. Or someone's daughter. Or someone's weapon. I am Seraphina."
The stars pulsed.
"I choose who I will be. Every single day."
And then—the angelic figure split open.
A beam of pure light burst from its core and struck her chest.
It didn't hurt.
It filled her.
Burned away everything false. Everything borrowed. Everything forced upon her.
When the light faded, the versions were gone.
So was the white sky.
She stood alone in a dark cave again—breathing, trembling, whole.
The Reckoning was over.
But she was not the same girl who walked in.
The stone door groaned open behind her, releasing a deep breath of ancient air, as if the mountain had finally exhaled. She stepped into the dim corridor, torchlight flickering gently across the stone walls—and across the waiting face of Vael.
He was standing there, silent, breath caught in his throat as his eyes found hers.
"Seraphina?" His voice was soft, almost fearful.
She met his gaze.
Her walk was steady now. Her shoulders, once burdened with doubt, held an unmistakable strength. Her eyes carried the fire of a soul no longer fractured.
"I'm here," she said quietly.
Vael moved closer, hesitant. When he reached for her, she didn't resist. She allowed herself to fall into his arms—not from weakness, but from peace.
They stood like that, wrapped in silence. The warmth of his body, the rise and fall of his chest—it grounded her. She was no longer the girl torn between two bloodlines. She was something more. Something whole.
"You're different," he murmured. "You feel... complete."
"I am," she replied. "I faced it all. And I chose who I want to be."
Kael's voice broke the moment. "Then you're ready."
They turned to see him approaching with a small group of elders—wolves and vampires alike. For the first time, there was no tension between them. Only unity in the face of what was coming.
Kael looked directly at her. "Queen Morwenna has moved."
Seraphina's jaw tightened. "Toward us?"
"Yes," Kael said. "She sees what you are now—and she fears it. The vampire army will strike within days."
"Let them," Seraphina replied, her voice steady.
The elders stirred, murmuring among themselves.
"You would stand against Crimsaria?" one of the werewolf chieftains asked.
"I would stand for myself," she said. "And for anyone who refuses to be ruled by fear."
Kael studied her, silent for a moment.
"You're no longer the girl I met in the woods," he said.
"No," she agreed. "I buried her in that chamber."
The elder vampire who had once doubted her stepped forward. "Then what are you now?"
Seraphina's voice didn't tremble. "I'm not just wolf. Not just vampire. I am what you feared would never exist—someone who chooses her identity, not one forced upon her."
She turned toward the hallway that led upward, to the surface, to the rising storm.
"I won't run anymore. I'm building my own kingdom—even if it's built from ashes."
Kael finally gave her the smallest nod. Not as a commander. Not even as a father. But as a man who knew strength when he saw it.
"Then we'll stand with you," he said. "Until the end."
Vael stepped beside her, placing his hand gently over hers.
"Not the end," Seraphina whispered. "This is just the beginning.