“You’re not alone. I won’t leave you, brother.”
Azrikel drew close, hand settling against Viktor’s shoulder.
“Nor will I.”
Saecily motioned, and Zakkari tightened the leather straps across Viktor’s chest, his arms, his legs. Viktor did not fight them.
This was his consent. His choice.
* * *
What followed was agony.
The chamber shook with Viktor’s roar as light seared through his veins. His body arched against the bindings, bones grinding under the force of his Endowment.
The stone flared, shadows writhed, and the air filled with the scent of blood and burning herbs. Gabriel braced him with both hands, whispering old prayers in Elvish he had not spoken since boyhood.
Still Viktor fought.
Still the light splintered through him.
Until at last his body went slack, head sagging to the side.
Unconscious.
Saecily’s hands stilled.
She leaned close, her healer’s eyes grim, then looked to Gabriel. For a long while the room was silent save for Viktor’s ragged breathing. Then she gave the smallest shake of her head—final, unflinching.
Gabriel’s throat closed.
He pressed his gauntlet to Viktor’s shoulder one last time, tears cutting through the soot on his face. Then, with a broken exhale, he rose to his feet.
Azrikel’s blind gaze lifted as if to something only he could see.
The stone still glowed faintly against Viktor’s arm.
“Let it be done.”
His voice broke low.
“The rest is silence. Until he wakes.”
Chapter One Hundred Fourteen
The Kiss and the Crown
His lips claimed her. His words crowned him.
Castle Amethyst lay caged in waiting. No horns announced peace, no riders carried certainty. Behind barred gates, rumor prowled like a chained beast.
But in the garden, dusk spun a gentler lie. Lanterns glowed among ivy and fountains, and laughter rang bright as birdsong. Two small hands tugged at Amerei’s fingers as though they were theirs to claim.
Xavien lingered in the archway, silent.
He did not dare break the vision.
One girl knelt to braid wildflowers, holding them aloft with a proud grin. The other climbed into Amerei’s lap, tucking her head beneath her chin. And Amerei—golden-haired, green-eyed, sorrow crowning her like a queen—gathered them close. Her smile broke warm, unguarded. She laughed when the braid fell apart, let them tug her hair loose, offered herself to their game as if she belonged.
