“Not today.” He shrugged, as if the thought had never truly occurred to him.
“What about tomorrow?”
That earned a slight twitch at the corner of his lips. “No, not then either.”
I folded my arms, wary now. “Why am I still here, then?”
Ashterion leaned against the nearest pillar, hands tucked into his pockets, the power pouring from him crumbled the stone where his back touched it. “You did kill my wife,” he said, almost idly. “Am I not allowed to ask some questions?”
A dry, bitter laugh clawed its way up my throat. “Clearly, you can ask whatever you want,” I said, gesturing vaguely to the trembling walls around us. “You’re breaking the world byexistingright now, so I doubt anyone’s going to stop you.”
Ashterion’s mouth quirked, though it held a hint of exhaustion. He let his head tip back, eyes closing for the briefest moment as if he were savouring the chaos, the sheerweightof his own presence.
“You’ll have to forgive me,” he said, rough with a power too old to name. “It’s been a while since I’ve been at… full strength.”
The shadows stirred behind him, crawling lazily along the floor, the ceiling, the edges of my vision. They weren’t threatening. Not exactly. More like curious cats, investigating someone new to their territory.
He cracked one eye open, sliding back to me with that same ancient amusement. “I’m choosing to enjoy it.”
My heartbeat thudded, because that? That wasn’t a threat. That was honesty.
“Not to worry though,” he added, his mouth tilted, like a dare that hadn’t been spoken yet. “It’s purely aesthetic.”
The shadows curled around his fingers, graceful and deliberate.
“No harm will come to you, little fireling.”
I shouldn’t believe him.
But I did.
The shadows continued their lazy dance around us, some venturing closer to me, curling around my ankles before retreating. They weren’t threatening, the grip a gentle caress, as though in thanks for the freedom they now had.
“What are you going to do now?” I asked, gesturing to the throne room, the fallen body of his wife, the empty space where my friends had been moments before. Soldiers’ bodies scattered the space, but Ashterion’s focus fell on one in particular.
Merrick lay still as carved stone, unconscious, right where I’d dropped him with my pommel. Blood traced a thin line from his temple into his hair.
The sight of him shifted something in Ashterion’s expression. The terrible power that had been radiating from him like heat from a forge... flickered.
He moved with inhuman grace, crossing to where Merrick lay in three fluid strides. The marble still fractured beneath his feet, but his touch when he knelt was careful. Tender, even. His shadows curled protectively around them both as he slid one arm beneath Merrick’s shoulders, lifting him with the reverence one might show sacred relics.
“Merrick.” His voice was softer than I’d heard it. Stripped of the lazy arrogance, the cruel amusement. Just... worried. “Come on, brother.”
Merrick’s eyelids fluttered, then snapped open. He blinked once, twice, struggling to focus. When his gaze finally found Ashterion’s face hovering above him, relief flooded his features.
“Ash?” he croaked, thick with confusion. Then his eyes sharpened, memory flooding back. “The female—she was fuckingaggressive—” He tried to sit up too quickly, wincing. “Did you—are you?—?”
“I’m fine,” Ashterion said, helping him upright with steady hands. “Everything’s handled.”
Merrick’s gaze swept the throne room, taking in the destruction, the blood, Xyliria’s body. His eyes finally landed on me, standing there in the wreckage.
“Well…” Merrick scrubbed a hand over his face, leaving streaks of dirt and blood. “Shit.”
“What are you going to do now?” I asked again, cutting through their quiet moment.
Merrick’s expression was openly curious. Ashterion’s was unreadable once more, the mask sliding seamlessly back into place.
He stood slowly, his gaze returning to Xyliria. “Clean up, I suppose.”
