Aurea hadn't spoken for three days.
Not since the kiss that wasn't a kiss, not since the third mark branded itself across her skin, not since she saw her reflection shimmer and split into something not human in the river's surface.
The bakery's warmth no longer touched her.
The dough stuck to her hands like ash.
And in the silence of dawn, she felt the sky watching.
Her first mark—storm-blue—ached when thunder gathered.
Her second—black as moonless ink—hummed when someone lied.
But the third? The golden mark of the stars?
It pulsed when she dreamed.
It sang when she touched the night.
And sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she could see Eryan watching her from beyond the sky.
"You're different," Marla whispered, folding dough beside her.
Aurea looked up.
"Your eyes… they glow now. Like candlelight under ice."
Aurea forced a laugh. "Not enough sleep."
Marla leaned closer, voice trembling. "The priest came asking. About the markings. About your blood."
Aurea's hands froze. "What did you say?"
"I told him you were cursed." Marla's tone held no malice. "Because I think that's safer than the truth."
She ran that night.
Not from the priest. Not from her own terror.
But from them.
Three men. Three destinies. Three parts of a soul that didn't belong wholly to herself anymore.
She didn't want fate.
She wanted freedom.
But the forest didn't let her leave.
Halfway through the western thicket, lightning crashed through the trees—and Kael stood there, wild-eyed, soaked, wind snarling around him like a beast.
"I felt your mark dim," he growled. "You were leaving me."
She stepped back. "It's not yours to keep."
"Then whose is it?" he thundered.
In response, shadows unfurled from the trees—Riven emerging like a predator from smoke.
"She belongs to none of us," he murmured, voice velvet and venom. "But that doesn't mean we'll let her go."
"Stop this!" she snapped. "I'm not an object. I didn't ask for this!"
Kael's eyes softened. "But you are ours, Aurea. Whether you asked or not. The marks chose you. That's stronger than consent."
"Then they're wrong," she whispered.
But then the stars above blinked out—every one.
And the night trembled.
Because he had arrived.
Eryan didn't walk into the clearing.
He simply appeared.
Like gravity bent itself to make space for him.
He wore a cloak woven from midnight and comet trails, and his eyes held all the sadness of falling stars.
"Enough," he said softly, and the world obeyed.
Even Kael fell silent.
Even Riven's smirk faded.
Aurea turned to run—but Eryan lifted a hand, and time slowed.
"You are awakening too quickly," he said.
"I don't want this," she cried.
"You never had a choice."
Then he stepped close—and kissed her.
Not her lips.
But her throat—where the third mark glowed brightest.
And the world shattered.
She saw—
Flames consuming temples of gold.
Her own voice crying spells in tongues forgotten.
Kael dying in a war he never started.
Riven kneeling in blood, whispering forgive me.
Eryan falling into stars—cracking the sky behind him.
And beneath it all, a door.
Locked. Ancient. Bound by three keys.
One for each man.
And one hidden in her blood.
When she woke, she wasn't on the ground.
She was floating.
And the forest bowed to her.
"You kissed her," Kael snarled.
"You broke the seal," Riven hissed.
"I had to," Eryan said. "She's running out of time."
Aurea's voice rose, brittle. "What did you do to me?"
"Not to you," Eryan said softly. "Through you. The moment you bore all three marks, you stopped being a girl."
"You became the Gate."