Peace. Or something close enough that I was willing to draft a treaty with it. Asha was draped half across me, warm breath feathering my chest, fingers tracing lazy circles along my ribs. I flicked cupcakes through little portals one-handed, plink, plink, plink, watching them vanish sideways into nowhere like falling stars. I smiled. Not my usual grin. Not my sharp-edged smirk. A real smile. For once, I wasn't plotting. Wasn't performing. Wasn't hungry for distraction. I was just… being.
Then the realm shivered. Not loud. Not violent. Worse. The kind of wrong you feel in your marrow. Like the rhythm of the universe itself skipped a beat. I stiffened so hard Asha jerked upright, eyes narrowing. "You felt that," she whispered.
I nodded once. Sharp. Brutal. The hum came again. Not just magic. Authority. Ancient. Precedent carved into the bones of creation. Arbor shuddered, the walls rippling like they wanted to scream. Then it hit. The summons. Old Law. Older than gods. Older than choice. It slammed down across the Divine Realm with a force I hadn't felt in thousands of years. My title burned against my skin. Branding through to my soul. An Ancient Binding. A command you didn't disobey because disobedience wasn't an option.
Asha gasped, clutching her chest. I caught her, steadying her, but inside I was terrified. Because this wasn't just power. This was dominion. Aerion was back. He was calling us home.
"I'm coming with you," she said, fierce and furious, gripping me like she could anchor herself to my refusal.
I snapped. "No." Not anger. Fear. I held her shoulders, gentle, but gods, I was shaking. "Listen to me. This isn't theater. This isn't some Pantheon squabble we can mock over champagne. This is Old Law. A binding from the age when gods didn't choose, they obeyed." I swallowed hard. "If you step through that portal, if you answer that call..." The words fractured in my throat. "He would kill you, Asha." Not wound. Not threaten. End.
Her eyes widened, the weight of it slamming into her. I cupped her face, breath ragged, chaos vibrating in my veins so hard the air shimmered around me. "I would burn the world down before I let him risk you like that." I pressed my forehead to hers, desperate. "I have to go. But you stay here. You stay safe."
The portal opened behind me, its hum digging through my bones. The call throbbed, relentless, ancient, merciless. I kissed her. Hard. Desperate. Reverent. I pulled away, the last thing I saw was her hand reaching for me as the portal swallowed me whole.
The Stone Court. The portal dropped me into silence. Not our sleek glass halls. Not the glittering atriums where we played at politics. No, The First Place. Stone carved from mountain bone and skyfire. No decoration. No comfort. This wasn't built for us to gather. It was built to command. Aerion's throne loomed at the far wall. Not symbolic. Not ornamental. Real. Binding. He was already there. Crowned in gold and iron. Armor gleaming like a drawn blade. Not the wild beast Asha fought. This was worse. This was control dressed in regality. The air itself bent around him. One by one, the others arrived. Plain. Silent. No gowns. No indulgence. No swagger. Just the ceremonial garb of the First Age, because the Court demanded it. Even me. Plain black robe. Boots soundless against the stone. Chaos coiled in tight, burning under my skin, begging to flare. I looked… almost human. Almost.
Ravina smirked like she'd been waiting for this. Calavera hovered, ribs hollow, silence her only companion. Leyla stood still, hands loose, daring anyone to notice her absence of shadow. Yara's hair hung limp, ocean drained to stagnant water. Maximus was stripped bare of decadence, brittle and gaunt beneath the skin. Even Navir looked undone, eyes hollow, edges frayed, like a man who had stared too long into infinity and hadn't come back whole.
The doors sealed. The chamber shuddered. Aerion rose. The world tilted. The air pulled toward him, not will, not spell. Force. Order incarnate. One by one, we buckled. Knees slammed stone. Heads bowed. Luxor's light guttered. Tairochi's stone skin cracked along his kneecaps, splintering like marble. Ahyona sobbed, collapsing, so small today, against the floor. Vitaria gasped, clutching her swollen belly, Maximus curling around her like a shield even as his own skull cracked the floor. None of it voluntary. None of it reverent. It was law. I braced myself. Chaos roared through me, claws in my blood. I held. For one heartbeat, one defiant breath, I stayed on my feet.
Aerion saw me. He smiled. Slow. Cruel. Like a king savoring the moment a spine breaks. He pushed. The pressure hit me like a cosmic fist. My soul screamed upward but my body slammed down. My knees cracked stone. Forced down. Not by fear. Not by choice. By the rules seared into the marrow of my being. I snarled, face pressed to the cold floor, every vein in me shaking with fury. This was his Court. His Law. His Order. Here, I wasn't chaos. I wasn't free. I was bound.
Aerion rose from the Stone Throne like he'd never fallen. The hall stilled. Every god knelt under the Old Laws. No one dared speak. Finally, he did. Not loud. Not furious. Worse. Beautiful. "We have lost our way," Aerion said, voice cutting the air like a sharpened hymn. "We were made to stand above, to protect, to guide, to rule. But we allowed the rot of sentiment into our halls."
He stepped forward, slow and sure. Every inch the sovereign reclaiming his stage. "We traded strength for indulgence. Wisdom for chaos. Order for convenience."
His eyes swept across us, stern and deliberate. Like a father disappointed in his children. Gods, how he sold it. "We told ourselves change was good. That compassion was strength. That compromise was wisdom." His voice softened, coaxing. Manipulative. "But you feel it, don't you? The fracture. The breaking."
I wanted to laugh. Wanted to throw glitter in his too-perfect smile. Instead, I knelt. Pressed into the stone by the Old Laws, my chaos snarling but shackled. He paced like a general before a battle. Like a messiah rehearsing salvation. "I do not blame you," he said. "It is hard to see corruption when it wears kindness. Hard to resist rebellion when it whispers freedom."
Grief flashed across his face. False. Painted on like stage paint. "But I have returned to remind you. We are not mortals. We do not bend. We do not break. We are gods. We are Order. And we will reclaim our rightful place, not by bargaining-" he spread his arms, radiant and regal, "-but by remembering power."
The bastard was dazzling. If you didn't know better, you'd want to believe him. Me? I knew better. He was a rapist claiming it as justice under his own pomp and arrogance. His pretty words didn't fool me. They just pissed me off. "Strength. Unity. Justice," he intoned. "We will cleanse what has rotted. Restore what was broken. Rise again, stronger, purer, eternal." The line. The one that sealed it. "We will make the Pantheon great again."
I almost gagged. His voice flowed like gold spun through water. Pretty. Heavy. Poison. "We let chaos slip past the gates and call itself progress," he said. "But no longer. Order will be restored. Those who remember the Old Ways will lead. Those who forgot will kneel, or be corrected."
My jaw ticked. My fists curled. Enough. I shifted, straightened against the weight, and let my mouth open, low, sardonic, ready to slice his sermon in half. "Is there a point to this golden turd you're polishing, or should we start sharpening the guillotine now-"
A sudden silence. Not mine. His. He lifted a single hand. And the Old Laws crushed my voice out of existence. Not spell. Not might. Just decree. I choked on the words. Felt them burn in my throat. Couldn't force them out. The Court didn't flinch. Didn't blink. It was expected. Normal. Of course Malvor would bristle. Of course Aerion would silence him. But inside? I burned.
"You will listen," he said calmly. "Because you have forgotten what it means to obey. What it means to belong."
Vitaria shifted. Barely. But I saw it. The way her eyes sharpened. The way she felt the rot underneath his polished sermon. She was understanding fully what he was. What he had done. Violating the divine feminine.
"We welcomed unworthy blood into our midst," Aerion continued, fervor rising. "Lifted those who should have bowed. Gave them titles. Freedom. Power they did not deserve." My throat rumbled, a low animal growl. But still, bound. "They took our generosity and corrupted it. Seduced. Stole." He looked almost luminous now, like the room itself bent to his sermon. "They lied to us. Flaunted brokenness as a shield. Dared to make us villains of their weakness."
My body leaned forward before I could stop it. Chaos flared like wildfire snapping against stone. Vitaria gasped. Raw. Broken. She doubled over, one hand clutching her belly. The other slamming against the floor like she could brace herself against the tidal wave of his words. Real tears spilled. Not delicate. Not pretty. Ragged sobs, torn from the deepest part of her. Maximus twitched toward her, instinct, desperate, but the Binding held him. He couldn't move. Could only watch. Helpless. As the woman he loved shattered in front of him.
Aerion? He kept speaking. Smooth. Grand. Untouched. "Weakness begets weakness. Mercy only invites corruption." He didn't even glance at her. Didn't see her. Because in his mind, women were vessels. Wombs. Tools. Asha had been nothing but a transaction to him. A bargain. An obligation. Something he was owed. When she'd broken it, he'd called it theft. A sound ripped out of me. Low. Animal. My chaos screamed against the leash of the Laws, begging me to tear him apart. Ahyona sobbed, too. Collapsed small on the stone, tiny fists clutching her robe. Crying not just for Vitaria, but for all of it. For Asha. For every wound power couldn't heal.
And me? I knelt, bound. Seething. While Aerion poisoned the room with pretty words and buried daggers. I wasn't just angry. I was terrified. Because I knew exactly what he was doing. Worse? It was working.