Chapter 37 - Arvoren

The blast comes without warning, a surge of pure light that tears open reality.

One moment, Calliope stands before us, fragile and bloodied; I see something rip across her face, twisting her features; the next, she becomes a star breaking open, power pouring from her like molten gold.

A wall of sound breaks upon us. I hear my brother fall to his knees. The chains binding me shatter as if they were made of glass. Ulric's mages scream, their bodies consumed by radiance before they can flee. On the ground, my brother tries to raise his sword, but the light catches him mid-motion, throwing him back against the far wall with enough force to crack stone.

I alone remain untouched, though the brightness burns my eyes, forces me to my knees. The power flowing from Calliope feels ancient. The kind of force that reshapes worlds. It’s older than my throne, older than my name and family. It reminds me of watching storms roll in over the mountains when I was young—that same electric tension, that same terrible beauty.

The light spreads outward in waves, each pulse stronger than the last. At the center, she is invisible, surrounded by a pulsating cloud of energy. Through the broken walls and windows, I see her power sweep across Millrath like divine judgment. Dragons wheeling above the city are struck mid-flight, their massive forms tumbling from the sky like falling stars. The sound of their bodies hitting the ground sends tremors through the castle's foundations.

Everything goes silent.

The night has become day, only stranger—as if a thousand suns have ignited at once, turning shadow to brilliance, darkness to pure, unrelenting light. The air itself seems to hold its breath. No clash of steel, no roar of flames, no beat of wings disturbs the perfect stillness.

When I manage to look up, Calliope stands transformed. Her dress, torn and bloodied, ripples in an unfelt wind. Her hair floats around her face like a dark halo, and her eyes... her eyes burn. A fearsome burn. Whatever she is, or was, she is no longer human.

The broken chains that once bound her ankles lie scattered at her feet, their links twisted and blackened as if struck by lightning. As I watch, they crumble to ash.

Something in my chest crumbles with them.

She sways slightly, the overwhelming force of her power ebbing like a tide. When she drops to her knees before me, it's with the grace of someone choosing to kneel rather than being forced. Her hand comes up to cup my face, and her touch is like fire and starlight.

"Calliope," I breathe, my voice rough with emotions I can't name. Beyond the shattered walls, another dragon crashes to the earth, the impact sending tremors through the floor. "Stay. Please."

A faint, sad smile touches her lips. In the otherworldly light still emanating from her skin, she looks both more and less than human—a creature of myth made flesh, terrible and beautiful.

"Would you cage me again?" she asks softly. Her thumb traces my cheekbone, gentle despite everything. "If I stayed, would you ever truly let me be free? Let me travel beyond these walls, see the world, live by my own will? Arvoren . Hear me. I want you to hear me."

I try to speak, but the words stick in my throat. We both know the truth—I would sooner tear out my own heart than let her go. Even now, watching her transformed by power that could reshape kingdoms, all I want is to keep her close, keep her mine.

The silence stretches between us, filled with all the things I cannot say. Outside, the unnatural light continues to pulse across the city like waves breaking on a shore. The air smells of ozone and ancient magic, sharp enough to make my teeth ache.

"I understand now," she murmurs, her eyes holding mine. "What my grandmother tried to tell me. About power, about survival." Her other hand comes up, framing my face. "About love."

"Don't—" My voice breaks. I reach for her, but she's already pulling away, rising to her feet with fluid grace.

Standing above me, I see her, and it is as if it’s the first time. Utterly transformed, she is nonetheless the same girl she was when I found her in that village. Striking, powerful, beautiful. She’s a stranger, and yet I fear I have never loved anyone more, never known anyone better.

She takes a short breath, lungs seeming to expand with new life. She sets her jaw. Her nostrils flare. She smiles down upon me, and my brother did not murder me on this day, but I know, looking up at her, that she will, in all the ways that matter.

"I love you," she says.

Then she steps back, and the light surrounding her flares brighter, so bright I have to close my eyes.

When I open them again, she's gone.

The unnatural day begins to fade, true darkness seeping back into the world. In the distance, I hear the sounds of combat resuming—fainter now, scattered, as if most of our enemies lie senseless or dead. Certainly, if she had her way, they did. And I suspect she had her way. Across the chamber, Ulric groans, stirring weakly where he fell. He is horribly burned.

Even as night resumes, as my castle creaks its resentment, enduring and surviving yet one more battle of its sordid history—even as I hear a voice calling my title through the halls, certainly Darian—I remain kneeling where she left me, my hands empty, my chest hollow. My chains are gone too, I realize. I cannot bring myself to care.

Everything I've built, everything I've fought for, meaningless now. She has unmade me more thoroughly than any enemy ever could.

I think of all the times I held her, all the moments I thought I was winning her over, breaking down her defenses. But she was the one breaking through mine, wasn't she? While I plotted to keep her bound, she was slowly, inexorably working her way past every wall I'd built.

And now …

And now the castle seems vast and empty, though bodies litter the floor around me. The strange light continues to fade from the air like the last traces of a dream, leaving only the familiar flicker of dragonfire in the distance. My brother's unconscious form lies crumpled against the wall, flesh mottled. Even in sleep, his face holds that sneer of hatred that has become so familiar. I wonder whether we could ever have been family, really. Whether both he and I are simply too corrupted by what happened to us. Whether I will love anyone the way I loved her.

The silence grows oppressive, broken only by the occasional distant thud of another fallen dragon hitting the ground somewhere in the city. Darian’s voice fades down a hallway. Each impact feels like a heartbeat, like the pulse of some massive, dying thing. My city. My kingdom. My reign.

Secured, and yet, some part of it is gone.

All of it might as well be, now.

I rise slowly, my body heavy with a weariness that has nothing to do with physical exhaustion. Around me, the hall bears witness to what just occurred—stone melted like wax where her power touched it, shadows burned permanently into the walls like inverse sunbursts. The air still crackles with residual energy, making my scales itch beneath my skin.

One of the chains that once bound her catches my eye—a single link that hasn't crumbled to ash. I pick it up, feeling its cold weight in my palm. The metal has been twisted into something barely recognizable, warped by forces I can hardly comprehend.

Another groan from Ulric draws my attention. He stirs, trying to push himself up from the floor, his face twisted in pain.

I should kill him. Should end this here and now, while he's weak, while I still have the chance.

But I'm so tired of death. So tired of fighting. So tired of this endless cycle of violence and betrayal that seems to define our bloodline.

Besides, what would be the point? She's gone. The only thing that mattered, the only person who made any of this worthwhile, has vanished like morning mist before the sun.

I turn away from my brother, from the destruction, from everything I've built and lost. Through the broken walls, I can see the first hint of true dawn breaking over the mountains. The sky is clearing, the unnatural light fading completely now, leaving only the familiar gray of morning.

Somewhere out there, she's free. Free of my chains, free of my love, free of everything I tried to make her be.

I love you.

Morning comes. I’ve found it always will. The sun rises over Millrath, painting the smoke-filled sky in shades of blood and gold. My kingdom lies in ruins around me, my enemies scattered but not defeated, my brother broken but not dead. There will be more war soon. There will be enemies still more fearsome, battles still more gruesome.

And yet, I find within myself, as I stagger to the underchamber, where my throne is unbroken, that I am still king.

My throne room is cavernous in its emptiness. The torches have all been blown out in the storm, the wind, the fighting; yet the pale, sheer glow of dawn casts long shadows across bloodstained marble. My seat of power, untouched by the chaos above, looms before me like an accusation.

Those traitors did not take it. And they will all need to pay, in time. I’ll rip their throats out one by one.

I sit at my throne, holding my crown in one hand, watching it as if waiting for it to come alive and eat me.

Some time passes. Eventually, Darian's footsteps echo as he enters, limping but alive. I hear him pause upon seeing me, though not for long.

Without a word, he takes his place beside the throne. I can see the way he favors his right leg, the way dried blood has matted his hair to his temple. Neither of us speaks. We simply exist in the hollow silence, two survivors in a sea of wreckage, watching light’s pale fingers creep across the floor through the high windows.

Time passes. Above us, the sounds of battle have faded to nothing. Below, the city holds its breath, waiting to see what remains of its king. Soon, my people will emerge from the catacombs where my family lies sleeping. Soon, it begins once more.

I’m back where I started.

"The queen?" Darian finally asks, his voice rough with smoke and fatigue. "Is she…?"

I lift my crown. One of the points is cracked, the metal bent and tarnished. Like everything else, it will need to be remade.

"Gather what remains of our forces," I say to the empty chamber, settling the crown upon my brow. Its weight is familiar, grounding. "We set out to find her tomorrow.”