Chapter 18

Eighteen

W hen Aric regained consciousness, he was already in the dungeons.

The stench of mold and damp stone assaulted his nostrils, the air clammy and thick. He tried to push himself up from the cold, hard ground, but his muscles felt like jelly, his limbs heavy and unresponsive. With a groan, he forced his eyes open, and the world swam into view. Bars of iron, a tangle of filthy straw, the meager circle of light filtering down from the world above. He was in a cell, the cold and darkness pressing in on him from all sides.

No. Not darkness. There was a presence in the cell next to him, a coiled, seething mass of anger and power, radiating through the tenuous thread that bound them together. Aric's heart leaped into his throat as he recognized that presence, and he pressed a hand to his chest, as if that could steady the frantic pounding of his heart.

Aric. The name was a low, dangerous rumble in his mind, and he shivered, despite the warmth that the voice sent trickling through his veins. What have they done to you?

Aric's thoughts scattered, the raw edges of that voice scraping against his skin. Malekith. He was Malekith, and he was here, he was so close, but there was no time for relief. No time to savor the heat that rushed through him at the sound of that name on Malekith's lips. They were both in danger, and Aric was the reason why.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words tasting like ash. "I tried to protect you. I tried?—"

I know what you tried to do, mage. Malekith's anger was a firestorm, a writhing serpent in Aric's mind. But you cannot save me from myself. And now they have you, too.

Aric pushed himself to a sitting position, the world spinning around him. "We have to get out of here. I can't—I won't let them?—"

I am powerless to stop them.

It might as well have been knife to Aric's heart, a fresh wave of panic and desperation threatening to drown him. He couldn't let anything happen to Malekith, not because of him. He had already caused Malekith enough pain, enough suffering. If it was in his power, he would tear down these stone walls with his bare hands. But he was the one locked in a cell, and Malekith was right. There was nothing he could do.

"I'll find a way. I won't let them hurt you." It was a vow, a promise, but even as he spoke them, Aric knew they were hollow. He was just a man, just a mage, and he was no match for the might of the demon court. They were both trapped, and there was no escape.

"Please," he whispered, the tears burning in his eyes. "Please don't hurt him."

A beat of silence, and then, so soft it was almost a caress: I would sooner destroy the world than let them harm you.

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to shut out the darkness that threatened to consume him. This was all his fault. If he had never ventured into the demon realm, none of this would have happened. He would still be the same lonely, restless mage he had always been, but at least he would be free. At least he wouldn't have Malekith's name burning in his blood, a constant ache in his bones.

Aric's hands uncurled, the air around him shimmering with heat. He had to focus. He had to find a way out of this, for both their sakes. But every time he tried to gather his magic, the memory of that searing pain, that blinding light, came rushing back. He was afraid of what he might do, what he might become, if he let his control slip even for a moment.

With a frustrated growl, Aric stood and began to pace the length of his cell. Stone walls, iron bars, a single narrow window too high to reach. There had to be a way out, a weakness he could exploit. But the more he searched, the more he felt the darkness closing in around him.

Aric's pacing quickened, his steps echoing in the empty corridor. He needed to think. He needed a plan. He had lost track of himself, the rage and fear and helplessness all blending together. But as the flames of frustration sputtered in his chest, a cold, calm voice slithered through his mind.

Enough.

Aric's heart leaped in his chest as he turned towards the other cell. Malekith's form was a shadow in the darkness, but his presence was a steady, reassuring weight in Aric's mind. He was here. He was all right.

Aric moved to the bars, his hand outstretched. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It will only bring more guards."

Time passed slowly, marked only by the rhythmic drip of water and the occasional shuffle of guard's footsteps. Aric leaned against the bars separating him from Malekith, speaking in a low, careful tone.

"This isn't right. Zaxos promised me three trials. I bested them all. Why are we here?"

His voice was tight with anger, but Malekith only shook his head, his face hidden in the shadows.

It is not me you must convince.

Aric's jaw clenched, his frustration simmering just below the surface.

"I did what he asked. I proved myself. Why won't he just let us go?"

Malekith's hand closed around the bars, the tips of his black claws pressing into Aric's flesh.

Because it is never that simple. Not in the demon court.

Aric looked up at the guards, but they were resolutely ignoring him, their leathery wings rustling as they shifted. With a huff of breath, he turned back to Malekith.

"Why? What aren't you telling me?"

But before Malekith could answer, the heavy door at the end of the corridor creaked open, and a new figure appeared in the dim torchlight.

Aric. Malekith's voice was a gentle touch on his mind, and Aric's heart clenched at the undercurrents of worry and fear that ran through it. The Sovereign is frightened of something.

Aric's eyes widened, his mind racing to connect the dots. The magical anomaly. The emergency council meeting. The uneasy tension that had been hanging in the air ever since the failed attack on the human town. "The weapon," Aric said, the words tasting like ashes. "It's the weapon, isn't it?"

It is possible. But we must focus on the threat at hand. The magical anomaly is growing, and we are no closer to understanding its cause. Sylthris has been working to uncover the truth, but even she has hit a dead end.

Sylthris. The demon spymaster had been tracking down the source of the anomaly, but so far, her efforts had been in vain. Aric thought back to their encounter in the darkened corridors of the Wrathforge, the secrets and lies that had hung between them, and then the way she always seemed to be at Zaxos's elbow when he made these horrible choices. And yet when she'd visited Aric before, she seemed almost . . . sympathetic to his aims. Was she working against them, or was she a potential ally in this dangerous game?

"What about Sylthris?" he asked. "Do you trust her?"

Carefully, cautiously, Malekith said, I believe she is doing everything in her power to uncover the truth. But her loyalties lie with the Sovereign, and she will not hesitate to act in the demon realm's best interests. Even if it means endangering your people.

It was a warning, a reminder of where Aric's true loyalties should lie. But even knowing the stakes, even knowing that he was putting his people at risk, Aric couldn't bring himself to regret his choice. The bond that was forming between him and Malekith was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a connection that transcended magic and reason. He would do anything to protect Malekith, even if it meant risking his own life and the safety of his people.

I don't know, Aric. I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe. But there are no guarantees in the demon court. They are fickle and capricious, and even I cannot always predict their whims.

Aric's heart ached at the uncertainty in Malekith's voice, the raw vulnerability that shone through his usual mask of confidence. He was willing to move mountains for Aric, of that much he was certain. But even the mighty Prince of House Ixion had his limits, his hands tied by the demands of his people and his duty to his realm.

It wasn't fair. Malekith deserved so much more than a life of bloodshed and sacrifice. He deserved a chance to be happy, to follow his own path, free from the chains of duty that bound him to the demon court. And if Aric had any say in the matter, he would do everything in his power to make that a reality.

"What happened to you?" he asked, his voice a soft, soothing caress. "Why do they treat your house like a curse? It can't just be the general of old you told me of. There's more to it, isn't there?"

Malekith was silent for a long moment, and Aric feared he had overstepped, that Malekith's walls were closing in once more. But then, with a slow, steadying breath, Malekith's voice returned to Aric's mind.

There was a time when I thought my older brother was invincible.

He was everything I was not—charming, idealistic, with a smile that could light up the darkest corners of our realm. He was set to inherit both our house and the Sovereign's seat, a responsibility that would have crushed me, but that he wore with a grace and ease that seemed to defy the burden it carried. I adored him, even as I resented living in his shadow. I longed to be the kind of demon he was, but I was too cold, too ruthless, too calculating. I was better suited to the role I carved out for myself, the one who did the dirty work that he could not.

And yet, even as I reveled in my own power and influence, there was a part of me that envied him, that longed to believe in the impossible dreams he wove. I watched from the shadows as he worked tirelessly to broker a peace with the humans, a fragile truce that might one day blossom into something more. I saw the way the other members of the demon court sneered and mocked him for his efforts, calling him weak, a fool, a traitor in the making.

But he never wavered, not even in the face of their cruelty. He believed with all his heart that it was possible for our kind to coexist with the humans, that the endless cycle of bloodshed and betrayal could be broken. And for a time, I allowed myself to believe in his vision, too.

But then the humans showed us just how little they thought of our lives, and my brother's dream was shattered, the fragile pieces scattering to the wind. He was broken in a way I had never seen, his light snuffed out, his smile turned to ash. He blamed himself for the lives that had been lost, for the hopes that had been crushed. And in his grief, he became something else—a darkness, a cruelty that I could not condone.

I tried to stand by his side, to offer him what comfort I could, but the distance between us only grew. He saw my loyalty to our realm as a betrayal, a rejection of everything he had once stood for. And I could not bring myself to condone the path of vengeance and destruction he had chosen.

It was the final fracture in a bond that had been strained for far too long, and we parted ways, each of us finding our own place in the demon realm. I threw myself into the life of a warrior, honing my skills on the battlefield, while he continued to search for a path to peace, a way to make amends for the sins of our kind.

We lost touch over the long centuries that followed, our lives taking us in vastly different directions. But even as I became the feared and respected general I am today, his shadow never quite left me. I carried it with me, a reminder of the demon I once aspired to be, and the dreams that had been torn away.

Malekith's grip on the bars tightened, the metal groaning in protest.

Then the humans slaughtered a group of demon refugees who had fled the realm during a particularly brutal campaign. My brother had been leading the diplomatic efforts to secure their safe passage, but he was unable to prevent the massacre. It was a devastating blow, not only to the refugees and their families, but to the fragile hope he had been nurturing for so long.

He was broken, Aric. Desperate. And in his desperation, he made a choice that would ultimately cost him his life.

He struck a bargain with the human mages, a dangerous and foolish gamble that he believed would save our people and end the war for good. But he had been deceived, as I knew he would be. The humans could not be trusted, and his actions only brought more suffering and death to our kind.

The shadows seemed to thicken around Malekith's voice, his words a living thing that slithered through the darkness. Aric could feel the raw pain, the grief and betrayal that still festered in Malekith's heart. It was a wound that had never fully healed, a weight that Malekith still carried with him, even after all this time.

"And what about you? What happened to you after that?"

Malekith's gaze was distant, lost in the depths of memory.

It changed everything. The demon court was outraged at my brother's actions, but they were equally horrified by the human betrayal. It was a time of great upheaval, the delicate balance between our realms shattered beyond repair.

My brother was exiled, stripped of his titles and lands, his name erased from our family's history. He became a pariah, a symbol of everything the demon court despised. But he was unrepentant, even as he retreated from the public eye.

It was years before I saw him again, and by then, I was so consumed by my own path that I barely recognized the demon he had become. He had turned his back on everything that once defined him, and for what? To save the life of a human who had tried to kill him?

Malekith's voice softened, a thread of wonder and pain running through it.

She had been a border guard, one of the humans tasked with keeping watch for any signs of demon incursions. He had been on a scouting mission, and she had spotted him, called for help. He could have killed her, but he chose to spare her life instead. I do not know what passed between them in the time that followed, but it was enough to make him question everything he had once believed.

He saw in her the capacity for goodness, for understanding, that he had longed to believe all humans possessed. And in his desperation to prove her worth, he made choices that he could never take back.

She was a healer, a midwife, and a protector of her people. A leader in all but name. But she was a human, and no matter how much my brother loved her, the demon court would never accept her. To them, she was a stain on our family's honor, a reminder of the pain and suffering the humans had caused us. They could not forgive my brother for his weakness, for daring to believe in a future that could never be.

He was exiled, cast out of the demon realm to live among the humans he had tried so hard to protect. But even in his absence, the damage had been done. Our family's reputation was in tatters, our lands and titles stripped away. I was left to carry the burden of our name, to prove to the demon court that we were still worthy of their respect.

Malekith's voice was heavy with regret, with a weariness that went bone-deep.

I tried for centuries to do just that, to show them the error of my brother's ways. I became the most feared and respected general in all of the demon realm, a paragon of our kind's strength and power. But still, they could not forget the stain he had left on our family, the shadow that lingered over our name.

And now the demon court's suspicions of House Ixion have only deepened. I am under constant scrutiny, my every move and decision called into question. And while I care little for their approval, it is not a good time to be seen as weak or vulnerable.

I'm sorry, Aric. Malekith's voice was a weary sigh in Aric's mind. I never wanted to entangle you in this. I know the risks I am asking you to take, and I understand if you cannot ? —

Aric's response was instant, a fierce blaze of loyalty that seared through the darkness. "I would follow you to the end of the world, my lord. There is nothing I would not do for you."

Malekith's laugh was a bitter thing, laced with self-doubt and regret. You say that now. But you do not know the depths of the darkness that lies within me. The things I have done, the lives I have taken in the name of our kind's survival. You would not be so quick to offer your loyalty if you knew the true monster that I am.

Aric's heart ached with the weight of Malekith's pain. He could feel it in every word, the burden of a lifetime of duty and regret. And yet, it only made him more determined, more sure of his path.

"You are not a monster," Aric insisted, his thoughts a soothing balm. "You are the strongest, most honorable being I have ever known. You fight for your people, for a better future. How can I do any less?"

There is something I must ask of you. Something that goes against every instinct, every oath I have ever sworn. But I cannot see another path. I cannot bear to watch my people suffer any longer, or yours. And I know you, Aric. I know the goodness that lives in your heart, the compassion that you try so hard to hide.

Malekith's gaze was a searing brand, stripping away the layers that Aric used to shield himself. It was a painful, terrifying exposure, and yet he could not look away. He would never turn from those eyes, no matter what they asked of him.

If you have the chance to return to your people, you should take it. It's the only way to warn them of what is to come.

Aric's breath caught in his throat. It was a betrayal of everything he had sworn to do, a betrayal of his people and his duty. And yet, as he looked into Malekith's eyes, he could not summon an ounce of regret.

"How can you ask me to do that?" Aric's voice was a harsh rasp. "How can you ask me to betray you?"

Because it is the only way. Malekith's voice was a soft, broken thing. The only way I can see to end this war. Malekith's shoulders slumped, the weight of the world pressing down on him. I cannot stand by and watch any longer. I cannot be the cause of any more suffering.

"Then let me help you," Aric pleaded. "Together, we can find another way. We can bring your people and mine to the table, we can?—"

It is too late for that. Malekith's voice was a knife, cutting off Aric's words. I cannot stop this war from the demon side. But you, Aric. You have the power to change the course of history. You have the power to save countless lives.

Malekith's eyes softened, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. I know you would, Aric. And it is that goodness, that compassion of yours, that I fear will be your undoing.

It had always been Aric's way, to see the best in others, to believe that even the most bitter enemies could find a path to peace. It was a naivete that he had been disabused of time and time again, but one he could never quite let go. Even now, as he knelt in the darkness of the demon dungeons, his heart aching with longing and uncertainty, he could not bring himself to turn from it.

He thought of his life in the human realm, the friends he had left behind in the mage order, their faces a painful blur in his memory. He had never truly belonged among them, a fact that had been made all too clear in recent days. But for all their flaws, for all the ways they had disappointed him, they were still his people. They were still the ones he had sworn to protect.

And yet, in the short time he had spent in the demon realm, he had felt a connection, a sense of belonging, that he had never known before. Malekith's words echoed in his mind, a siren's call that tugged at his soul. How could he turn from that, from the bond that was growing between them, despite all the reasons he should?

There was no easy path before him, no simple answer that could reconcile the warring loyalties in his heart. But as he looked up into Malekith's eyes, he knew with a bone-deep certainty that there was only one choice he could make.

He had to follow his heart. He had to believe that there was a way forward that did not end in blood.

Aric reached out a hand, fingers splayed. Malekith's own hand rose, his movements slow and careful, like a predator trying not to startle its prey. His fingertips brushed against Aric's, a whisper of a touch, and a shock of warmth raced up Aric's arm.

He was real. Malekith was real, and he was here, and for this one fragile moment, nothing else mattered.

"Aric." Malekith's voice was a tremor in the darkness, a thread of raw emotion that tugged at Aric's heart. "I am sorry. For everything."

How could Malekith apologize to him, when it was Aric who was about to betray everything he believed in? But there was no time for that now, no room for regrets. There was only this, this fleeting touch, and the bond that pulsed between them, strong and sure.

"It's all right," Aric said, though he knew it wasn't. "We'll find a way."

And even as he said the words, he knew they were a lie. His path was already set, the choice made. The only question that remained was whether Malekith would be with him, or against him.

Their moment stretched, a fragile, taut thread that neither of them wanted to break. Aric's heart was a tumult, a storm of uncertainty and longing and the fierce, unwavering certainty of his choice. Malekith's touch on his face was a benediction, a silent prayer that Aric could not begin to fathom the words of. It was a promise, a farewell, a thousand other things that neither of them could name.

But it could not last.

The sound of cloven feet echoed down the dark corridor, shattering the silence, and they sprang apart as if burned. The guards moved like wraiths in the darkness, their pale eyes fixed straight ahead.

Sovereign Zaxos's guards.

Aric's heart stopped, a leaden weight dropping through him. He looked back at Malekith, and for a brief, terrible instant, their eyes met. In that gaze was everything that had passed between them, all the words and touches and promises that had bound them together. And yet, in that same gaze, Aric saw the choice that Malekith had made.

He saw the path that lay before him, if he could only find the courage to take it.

Sovereign Zaxos's guards made a slow, ceremonial sweep of the corridor before stopping at the cell. The lead guard unlocked the door, and the heavy iron gate swung open with a rusty groan. "Sovereign Zaxos has reached his decision," the guard said. "Follow us."

And Aric's fate was sealed.