Daughter of Obsidian

#5

Chapter five-The Aftermath

The storm was gone. Only silence remained.

Mavi staggered through the campus courtyard, every step unsteady. Her hands still glowed faintly, veins pulsing with shadow, a cruel reminder that the monster she feared was no longer caged. Her breath came in shallow gasps, each one tasting of ash.

She wanted to run. Hide. Pretend none of it had happened. But the world felt different now—sharper, listening, as if unseen eyes pressed against her skin.

The whispers in her head had grown louder. Daughter… heir… crown of obsidian…

She squeezed her temples, forcing the voices back. “Shut up,” she hissed under her breath.

A voice answered. “Talking to yourself already?”

Her head snapped up.

He was leaning against the stone wall as if he’d been waiting, arms crossed, silver eyes glinting in the faint moonlight. Kael Demirkan looked untouched by their battle, not a speck of dirt on him, not a hair out of place. But the smirk curving his lips was sharper than a blade.

“You,” she whispered, hatred and fear tangled in her voice.

“Me,” he replied simply, pushing off the wall with lazy grace.

She stumbled back. “Stay away.”

“You think distance changes anything?” His tone was quiet, almost conversational, but every syllable slithered under her skin. “Your blood doesn’t care how far you run. Neither does mine.”

Her chest tightened. “I don’t want this. I didn’t ask for any of it!”

He stopped a breath away, tilting his head as though studying prey that refused to break. “No one ever asks,” he said softly. “But destiny doesn’t knock, Mavi. It breaks the door.”

The sound of her name on his lips made her shiver.

“I’m not your destiny,” she snapped, even as her voice wavered.

He leaned closer, silver gaze pinning her in place. “No. You’re mine.”

Her pulse thundered. Too close—he was too close. She could smell him, something sharp and metallic threaded with smoke. She hated the way her body reacted, heat rising where fear should have been.

“Get out of my way,” she said, trying to sound strong.

Kael chuckled, low and dangerous. “If I thought you were weak, I’d let you go. But you’re not. You’re fire wrapped in silk, waiting to burn. And until you learn to control it, you’re a liability. To yourself. To everyone.”

She glared at him, fighting the sting in her eyes. “You don’t own me.”

For the first time, his smirk slipped. Something raw flickered in his gaze—pain, maybe rage—but it was gone too quickly to name.

“No,” he admitted, voice rougher now. “But I am the only one who can keep you alive.”

The words hung between them, heavier than stone.

Mavi’s throat tightened. “Why? Why me?”

Kael’s eyes softened, just a fraction. “Because you’re the last Altınkaya. Because your family swore blood with mine before either of us was born. Because whether you want it or not, you are the crown, Mavi.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came. Crown. The raven. The whispers. Everything slammed together in her mind like puzzle pieces snapping into place.

And Kael, standing there, was both the answer and the warning.

He took another step, close enough that his breath brushed her cheek. “So hate me. Curse me. Try to fight me. But don’t you dare waste what you are.”

Her heart pounded so violently she thought it might burst. She wanted to scream at him, shove him away, do something. But her body betrayed her, frozen under the weight of his presence.

Instead, she whispered the only truth she could manage. “You terrify me.”

For a moment, silence stretched. His expression shifted—so subtle, so fleeting—that it almost looked like regret.

Then he leaned in, lips by her ear, and whispered, “Good.”

And just like that, he stepped back, the distance between them flooding with cold night air.

Mavi exhaled shakily, knees weak, but Kael was already walking away, shadows curling at his heels like loyal dogs.

He didn’t look back when he spoke his final words, low but certain.

“The Court is waking, Mavi. And when it does, you’ll wish terror was all you felt.”

Then he was gone, swallowed by darkness, leaving her trembling and utterly alone.

But not powerless anymore.