Thrassus took the reigns, subduing him as the Resh’Agar began his climb up the colossal marble stairs. The Jade Lattices speared from the ground all the way to the top of the Daesa Major. From here, he could not see where the tower ended.
His heart thundered in his chest.
Beating.
Beating.
Beating.
Any moment now, the Sokâr would step out, greeting him with a reverent kiss.
As his longing built, his climb seemed to slow.
And yet the drums stayed steady.
Beating.
Beating.
Beating.
A shift of silks.
A few graceful steps.
Resh raised his head, a smile ready.
The drums stopped beating.
Silence swallowed the world.
Before him stood not Auryn, but his twin brother.
The Sovereign Flame.
Shu’Khan.
His frigid azure eyes gleamed with purpose.
His smile could have melted stone.
“Welcome, Resh’Agar,” he said. “Welcome home.”
With the Sokâr absent, the ceremony ended quickly. After his greeting, Shu’Khan glided down the Penance Stair to greet the Resh'Agar like a deity descending from the Void itself. His flowing white silk robes and sandaled feet hardly made a whisper of a sound as he moved.
The city watched, breathless, as the brothers reunited. Eyes wide. Adoring. Worshipful. Some had tears streaming down their faces, theirhands clasped together in supplication, their lips chanting the Litany in voiceless motions.
Shu’Khan was a sight to behold. His clothes were made of starsilk, humming with ancient runesgrams stitched into the fabric. Crafters gave their mana to create it, many dying in the attempt. Resh had seen it, once. A Crafter weaving robes for the Sovereign Flame, tears of pride welling in his eyes even as his last breath left his lungs.
Nothing less than perfection would do for his brother. His long midnight hair was oiled and tamed, falling in controlled waves down to his waist. A crown of black laurels woven of aethersteel hugged his temples, azure gems glinting in the Polis light. Piercing blue eyes looked down on his worshipers with adoration, high arching brows sharpening his attentive gaze.
Like looking into a mirror. His face—identical to Resh'swas a mockery of kinship. Some said they were twin brothers. Others whispered they’d been two drops of the Void chosen by the Destroyer to lead Krystopolis. So alike. A perfect reflection. Yet not.
Where the Resh’Agar bore the yoke of war upon his shoulders, Shu’Khan was the embodiment of a being far removed from mortal woes. Not a thread out of place, nails manicured and filed to sharp points, skin smooth as still water, and all hair removed with magic from his face and body. A sculpted thing, come alive to grace the city with his divinity.
And the People knelt. They wept. They prayed.
The Sovereign Flame raised his hands and conjured golden mana, compressing it into a cube no bigger than his palm. Pressing the pulsing thing against his throat, he spoke. His voice carried to the edges of the city, filling the confines of the Shields.
