All three lowered to one knee.
Your queen needs you. Spread word to her allies and find her. But do not draw near, lest you fall to their control again.To Deimos, he said,You are the only one they will not expect. Make it count.
They bowed their heads and vanished in smoke.
Once Rune was alone, he let the fear surface. There was little chance they would be enough to overpower Sal’vathar in time to stop him.
Time stretched into something cruel and formless, each heartbeat a slow tolling bell, each second an eternity as he waited in the dark.
The chains dug deeper with every breath Rune dared to take, burning where they pierced him, leeching his strength drop by drop.
When twilight arrived, the sky darkening with storm clouds. Thunder rolled and rain poured down through the opening in the ceiling.
He could not tell how long he had been there. Only that the hollow in his chest kept widening, despair climbing where wrath once lived.
Fury was always his first response when the world dared defy him, but it had rendered him beyond the borders of defeat that he had tasted many times before.
Rune’s breath shook when he caught the distant scent of Alora’s blood.
Desperation strangled his lungs, his gasping screams of rage echoing in the chamber. He couldn’t feel her, but he knew she was afraid.
Because so was he.
Somewhere she was fighting for her life as his court fell into disarray.
But all of the anger fell out of him, knowing he had no more recourse. No more strength. No anger to draw on.
He could not save her.
Not alone.
For the first time in eons, Rune looked up at the sky not in wrath or challenge, but in plea.
Father…
The word echoed in his chest, quiet and unguarded.
Please, do not forsake me a second time.His eyes shut against a flash of lightning.I yield what remains of me. My pride. My name. My immortality.If any mercy yet lives for me, let it be hers.And I will serve Your will once more.
The silence was not empty.
It judged.
Rune held his breath as he waited for an answer.
Thunder cracked the sky.
A blast of lightning struck the ground within the chamber, tossing debris and smoke. His chains snapped and Rune dropped to the ground, landing unsteadily on his feet.
He tore the webs from his mouth, shuddering and gasping, warring with shock. Power surged through his veins, raw and forceful, burning like it never had before.
Rune inhaled sharply, recognizing that familiar Seraph strength. The shadows answered at his will, armor fitting over his body in the same divine metal of the Havens.
Then he turned to the burning glow where the lightning had struck.
When the smoke cleared, within the crater gleamed a great sword forged with an orange blade. The same blade that had defeated him once before.
Sunstone.
