Kailorien didn’t speak.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t bow.
He just stood there.
Bleeding. Burning. Breaking.
And for a heartbeat, the world was silent.
Because there was no answer.
Not one Kailorien could give without making the deal all over again.
And so he did.
58
Bargain Struck
The chamber smoked behind them, the Tribunal nothing but ash and ruin. Kailorien carried Auryn through shattered marble halls without hearing the clamor of voices, without seeing the Reskala falling back in his wake. His arms locked around her body, her skin burning hot, her breath shallow and ragged. He did not stop walking until the door to his private wing slammed shut behind them.
He laid her carefully on the low bed, her body curling in on itself, sweat-soaked hair plastered to her brow. His thumb brushed her cheek—ashen, streaked with blood, fevered with godfire. Her freckles—those faint constellations that once glowed with starlight—were dull now. His chest twisted.
“Auryn…” His voice cracked. “Starlight…”
He brushed her hair back and froze when he saw the mark again. At the nape of her neck, blackened flesh marred her skin; a scar burned deep where the Iron had nearly claimed her soul. A mark that would never fade.
…ember mine…they dared…THEY DARED…
His vision blurred red. The runes beneath his skin pulsed, fire crawling up his arms. His teeth bared, but he forced the rage down, wiping silver blood from her nose with shaking hands. More came. He bent over her, forehead pressing to hers, clawing for the Bond. Desperate for even a flicker.
Nothing. Only a hollow echo, a door slamming against him again and again. The silence hurt worse than the Iron ever could.
The door opened. Zarrek entered, armor streaked with ash, eyes steady. Behind him stumbled Lu’ma—her braid undone, red blood streaking her arms, hands shaking as she signed the moment she saw Auryn pale and still.
'Her Radiance? Alive? Breathing?'
Her gestures fractured. She tried to speak, but nothing came. Her throat spasmed, her mouth opened. But her choker was dim. Only silence. The seal had slammed shut again, crueler than before. She clawed at her throat, tears spilling. Zarrek caught her wrists, pulling her against him.
“Steady,” he said. “She breathes. She’s here.”
Her hands signed broken, frantic words against his chest,'The voice, the Iron—'
Kailorien turned toward them, jaw locked.
“She lives.” His voice was hoarse, rough as broken stone. “I will not let her go.”
Lu’ma froze, staring not at Auryn but at him. Her lips parted in a soundless gasp. Zarrek’s hand went to his blade, then stopped. His voice cut low.
“…Your eyes.”
Kailorien blinked. When he looked back, the two of them still stared. Zarrek’s jaw hardened.
“You have thatmonster’seyes…”
The runes along Kailorien’s arms throbbed red, his breath misting. The beast still tested the chains of his flesh. Zarrek didn’t flinch. He only watched, measuring whether his brother in arms was still Kailorien or something else entirely.
