The noise of Reverie's voice didn't pull him out.
Pain rattled his bones.
His eyes shut as he sank into the edge of his existence, his form nearly taking over in an attempt to protect him from whatever the Infi was doing to him. Whatever kind of deal he had just struck.
Black fire pulsed as an image in his mind.
Amber eyes that he knew belonged to his sister.
The image should have spun him, but his anger calmed, heartbeat steadying.
His sister.
Alive and reaching out to him.
A tear stretched down his inflamed cheek, and he held to the image of her with everything he had left.
You and me against the world, sister, he said to the image.
From now until the end, he heard her whisper back.
Dorian collapsed to his side.
Snow wrapped his bare shoulders as he rolled against the stone. He clenched his right arm to his chest, trying to push himself up with his left. His arm continued to bleed black and navy fire mixed with his own blood from what looked like every nerve gaping and cracking.
But as he pushed himself to one knee and coughed out the remaining fire, someone stepped before him. The person bent—Aja—and he picked up the object from the ground.
A crown of long black jagged glass daggers. Nearly navy in the light of the waning sky. The glint of reflecting snow from the twin crescent moons bounced off its rough sides.
He continued to tremble as the Infi placed the crown on his head.
The world vibrated, and Dorian realized he was still in his form. Shoulders rounded, he rose to his feet.
A snarling noise filled his ears. In the corner of his eyes, he saw them. True Infis in their animalistic states. Not like the creature that stood before him with a mind of reason and verbal articulation. But rather the creatures the Chronicles spoke of. The mindless savages. The ones Draven sought to eradicate from their world.
The ones he knew would betray him one day.
But the bind on Dorian's arm meant something, and as he looked slowly around him, he noted that every single Infi had the same mark on their own arms.
Bound to serve him.
Blood dripped onto the stone from his fingertips.
Aja dipped his head and gestured behind, presenting Dorian with the chair at the edge of the pillar.
Navy flames trickled onto Dorian's skin once again, and he watched with a bent head as the Infi cowered behind him. His bare feet made little noise as he ascended the steps, smoke rising in their wake.
And as the last moons of winter rose, Dorian settled onto his throne.
His throne of shattered glass and fire, of snarling beasts and fangs... Surrounded by moons-lit snow and navy fire torches, at the top of the highest peak in Haerland. Navy flames danced on the ground. His blackened eyes stared into the world, ashen-streaked hands grasping at the jagged chair. The wind whipped his black hair off his face. The sting of it brushed his sharpened cheekbones. He settled into his true form as his new home.
The power at his fingertips swelled in his chest and calmed his core.
True Infis hissed and snarled as Corbin and Reverie appeared in his sightline. Dorian didn't speak. But as they reached the bottom of the steps, they each drew their swords.
And they knelt before him.
Knelt not before a son of Arbina.
