He stared out through the balcony doors, at the twilight sky that never quite let the stars shine.
“My father’s parting gift… when he cast me out of the Heavens.” A long silence filled the room. “My punishment for daring to take pride in what I was created to be.”
“But why would he maim you?”
“I was Elyon’s warrior, and the source of our power is held in our wings.”
When his meaning landed, Alora came out from behind him, gawking at him. “You… were a Seraph.”
Rune’s eyes at last met hers, and for the first time he let her see what the glamor had always concealed. Not shadow, but the absence of something luminous, carved out of him and never returned.
“I was the first.”
Alora’s breath caught as understanding unfurled across her face, threaded with awe and grief.
Light had not failed him.
It abandoned him.
He was never meant to become this.
The phantom ache lingered deep in his bones where his wings had been torn away. Or perhaps it was the unhealed fracture of exile etched into his being.
Through the bond, he felt the grief tighten in her chest because she knew his pain well. He supposed it was one thing they shared.
“Then the shadows…” she whispered.
He looked down at the blank tendrils weaving through his fingers. “I fell from the Heavens like a star…and landed in a realm of darkness. A barren wasteland of ash and stone, crawling with monstrous demons not unlike what I had become.”
His fingers curled slightly, shadows stirring at the movement.
“There was nothing to light that world. No sun. No moon. No warmth. Only fields of glowing spider lilies, burning softly against the dark.” His voice lowered, his brow furrowing with the memory of wandering alone for days. “Until I found something else waiting in that void. A power born of the darkness itself.” His gaze met hers. “Vorak had been sealed within the depths of the Abyss, and the shadows had lost their master, so they chose me. They gave me the strength to seize an empty throne… that was never truly mine.”
The statement left a heavy pause.
It was the reason why Dominions didn’t truly accept him as their king. He declared himself a god and stated the kingdom of the damned was his divine right.
A reign built on lies.
Alora rested her hands against his chest without hesitation or disgust. “But you made it yours,” she said firmly. “As I am.”
She truly was a miracle he didn’t deserve. He hadn’t been ashamed of his actions, not until now as he bore it all to her.
He watched as she followed the glowing path that coiled over his chest and collarbone with unhurried curiosity. The ancient markings that shimmered like embers.
“I always wondered what these markings meant,” she said softly. “Do they serve a purpose?”
Rune hummed, holding still, amazed that she so freely touched him. “They appeared when I took hold of the shadows. They react when I am serving my purpose as King of theNetherworld.” He held her gaze, faintly smirking. “And they burn brighter when I am losing control.”
Canting her head, Alora smiled when she noticed how bright they were now.
“I always found it difficult to control myself around you,” Rune admitted, brushing her cheek. “No matter how hard I try to hide it, my glamor can never stay in place for long in your presence.”
Her eyes gleamed with amusement in the firelight. “That explains why you were always vanishing into smoke.”
Rune’s brief smile surfaced for only a breath. “When I lost you, I nearly destroyed the world,” he confessed quietly, letting his hand fall to her neck. “In my grief, I turned my back on the Heavens and Divine Law. I tried to siphon the magic I needed to gain the magic to raise the dead… so I could resurrect you again. If my power had not been stunted, I would have destroyed the world.”
Alora’s brow curled with sorrow.
