I lay in the dark beside him, saying nothing. Just breathing. Just being. My hand rested over his chest, pushing soft waves of healing into the chaos-torn seams of his body. Normally, he healed fast, his magic wild and regenerative, like time itself bent to his laugh. But not now. Not with the collar. Not with his magic sealed. The thought slid cold down my spine: Malvor was vulnerable. Truly vulnerable. For the first time. That terrified me more than anything. I stayed quiet, my cheek pressed to his shoulder, but inside me something clicked. A decision. A certainty. I couldn't wait any longer.
The last rune. Tairochi. Whatever it cost, I would pay it. For him. For us. For the damned universe if I had to. I slipped from the bed, moving like a shadow through Arbor's quiet. The silence felt sacred. I brewed something warm, something grounding. Not his usual mocha. Spiced chai with cream and honey. Softer. For what I had to say. When I returned, I sat on the bed's edge and bent down, kissing him awake, slow, tender, pouring my resolve into the space between us. His tired, gold-flecked eyes blinked open. "I need to see Tairochi," I whispered. "It's time to finish the runes."
The fog of sleep left his face at once. His hand found mine under the blanket, gripping, not tight, but deliberate. "You're right," he rasped, voice rough. "You need to finish it." A beat. His jaw tightened. "But I hate it." He pushed himself upright, eyes searching me for something I hadn't said aloud. "Tairochi doesn't make deals. He doesn't play games. He doesn't take. Not like the others. But when he asks…" Malvor's voice dropped, raw. "It costs."
I didn't flinch. Didn't blink. I met his gaze steady as stone. "Whatever he wants," I said. "He can have it."
His jaw clenched harder. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. "You already gave days of your life to Death. I can't-" He cut himself off, exhaled. "I won't let this strip pieces of you until there's nothing left."
I smiled, soft, sad. "Then hold tight, Malvor. Because what's left is all I've got."
His fingers brushed my cheek, reverent. "You don't owe the gods anything, Asha."
"I know," I whispered. "That's what makes it my choice."
That broke him. Just a little. "I'm coming with you," he said, throwing back the covers, trying to swing his legs off the bed. He didn't make it far. Pain lanced through him, sharp, electric. He hissed, knees buckling, catching himself on the nightstand with a trembling hand. His jaw creaked under the force of his clenched teeth.
I was already there. Pressing my hands to his chest. Easing him back down. Gentle. Firm. "No," I said. "Not this time."
Fury and fear tangled in his eyes. "You don't know what Tairochi will ask."
"No," I agreed softly. "But I know I can face it."
He grabbed my wrist. "Asha-"
"Lay down, Malvor." It wasn't cold. It wasn't sharp. It was soft steel. Kindness forged into certainty. A command he couldn't argue with. I leaned in, pressed my forehead to his. My lips brushed his when I whispered, "I'll come back. I promise. But you need to trust me." His fingers lingered on my arm, trying to hold me there, but I was already slipping away. Already wrapped in resolve. I walked to the door. His eyes followed me, my chaos, my constant, my love.
Then I stepped through the portal. The world changed. No sound. No motion. Just peace. Terra Firma unfolded before me like the breath of the universe exhaled. Endless stone cliffs, ancient trees rooted in mountains older than memory, rivers carving wisdom into the land. The air was crisp, threaded with petrichor and blooming jasmine. A scent of cycles. Of stillness with meaning. The sky didn't blaze. Didn't roar. It simply was. Vast. Soft. A painted canvas of quiet dawns. Tairochi's realm. At the center of the divine web. Closest to the Nexus. The most stable. The mountain that never bowed.
My feet sank into moss-lined stone, and I felt it at once. The hum beneath my soles. Ancient. Listening. I didn't need to call him. He already knew I was here. I took three steps before the path itself stopped me. Not with walls. Not with force. With presence. The air pressed heavy, immense, unmistakable. Not magic. Not threat. Just… observation. The mountain measuring my worth. It sank into my chest, resonant, syncing with the stone beneath my feet. I couldn't move forward. Not without permission.
So I waited. No panic. No plea. Just stillness. Hands at my sides. Spine straight. Chin lifted. Even the wind was silent. Even time respected this realm's quiet. This wasn't like the others. No riddles. No games. No indulgence. Only the mountain. The mountain did not move unless it chose to. I didn't hear him arrive. I felt him. Like gravity. Like silence. Like ancient truth. A shadow shifted in the distance. No flash of light. No storm of power. Just… presence. One moment, I was alone. The next, he stood at the end of the path.
Tairochi. The Mountain Made Flesh. He was tall. Impossibly tall. But it wasn't the kind of height that towered. It was the kind that grounded. His body looked carved from still stone and living bark, robes falling over him like waterfalls shaped by centuries. His eyes weren't black, but deep, the color of earth right before the rain. His long hair moved in a wind I couldn't feel, and his hands, massive, calloused, belonged to a god who built instead of broke. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. His gaze moved to my shoulders, and I felt it. The hum of his attention sliding over the runes that lay there, dormant. From the tops of my shoulders, down my collarbones, etched across my back, the twin marks of his power. Sleeping. Waiting. I didn't say anything. I didn't beg. I just stood, spine straight, letting him see me. Letting him feel me.
At last, Tairochi nodded once. Permission. He turned and began walking deeper into his realm, and I followed without question. We passed beneath an archway of petrified wood, symbols etched across its surface glowing faintly as I stepped through. The earth itself shifted in response to me, each footfall echoed by a deeper rhythm, as though the ground were recording me, preparing. When we stopped, his voice came. Not thunder. Not fury. But stone settling. Rain against cliffs older than memory. "In exchange," he said, "you will give me every Thursday."
I blinked. "Every… Thursday?"
He nodded. "From sunrise to moonrise. You will stay."
That was all. No explanation. No reason. Just certainty. My instinct flared to argue. To ask what he planned to do with my hours, when I'd already given so much, my body, my years, my soul. Part of me bristled at the thought of more being taken. But his gaze pinned me in place. He wasn't looking at me the way the others did. He wasn't measuring beauty, or obedience, or survival. He was seeing through me. Through the exhaustion I hid even from myself. Through the fracture lines I buried. Through the weight I carried in silence. The thought came unbidden, quiet, heavy, unwelcome: You have eternity now. What's one day a week to be whole?
"Do you accept?" The words dropped like stone.
Though it wasn't a choice, though it also was, I whispered, "Yes."
Tairochi disappeared briefly, returning with a folded cloth. Thick. Handwoven. The color of clay and ash. I took it without hesitation, vanishing behind a stone outcropping to change. The chest wrap bound my ribs and upper torso firmly, respectful and exposing at once. My pants I kept, but my shoulders, bare now to the mountain air, showed the silent lines waiting under my skin.
When I returned, he was waiting. A clay jar sat in his palm, uncapped, the oil inside warmed by his touch. Bronze sheen. Cedar and crushed stone flower rising from it. Without a word, he coated his massive hands in the oil, rubbing them together slowly. I stood still. Waiting. When he placed them on my shoulders, I nearly flinched. Not from pain, but from the sheer size of him. His palms swallowed my shoulders whole. If he wanted, he could crush me like a sapling. Malvor had been wild, radiant, larger than life. Tairochi felt like the bones of the world itself.
My breath caught. Not in fear. In awe. His chant began, low, ancient words that sounded like stone shifting deep under earth's weight. The runes stirred. Not with agony. Not with fire. But with warmth. A slow glow spread through me, like embers waking under ash. Calm. Steady. Grounding in a way I hadn't realized I needed until it rooted itself inside me. The warmth bled down my arms, across my collarbones, along my spine, roots threading into my marrow. My knees buckled. Not from pain. Not from magic. But from… completion. I crumpled, but Tairochi caught me easily, cradling me against him with an inevitability that felt ancient. My eyes stayed open, unfocused, caught between breath and stillness, between mortal and something more. It was done. All twelve. The final bond sealed. I was woven into them. Tied. Claimed. Bound by ancient law and living power.
Something small inside me mourned. Quietly. For what had never been mine to keep. Childhood. Aging. Choice. Humanity had always been slipping from me, this was only the final goodbye.
He didn't panic. Didn't call my name. He just held me. He had always known this moment would come. He adjusted me in his arms, not tender like Malvor, not indulgent like Maximus, simply steady. A mountain's embrace. He looked down at me with no awe, no fear. Just understanding. His voice, softer than stone rain, older than memory. Words I didn't know. The First Language. The tongue that carved mountains and taught rivers to move. I didn't understand them. But I felt them. They pressed into my skin like a blessing. Not a command. Not a decree. Just care. Ancient. Earned. Undeniable.
Tairochi shifted me in his arms, steadying me the way stone steadies wind. My legs trembled, newborn and uncertain, but he didn't rush me. He just held me. Patient. Immovable. I looked up, expecting power, judgment, something cold and divine. Instead, I found peace. Stillness. Just beneath it, care. No praise. No demand. Just quiet approval, like the mountain acknowledging the tree that had finally rooted.
It came. The ripple. I felt it race out of me, across all twelve realms, deep into the Nexus. A pulse that wasn't thunder, but gravity shifting. Somewhere far away, Ahyona's flute music faltered. I could almost hear her whisper, She did it… she's whole. Calavera's candles flickered blue. I could see her skeletal mask tilt skyward. Little dove… you chose to live. Navir's world stuttered. Equations bled into chaos, his voice muttering frantic numbers I didn't understand but felt threading into my bones. She is the Constant. Axiom. Luxor's light fractured into shards. Our dawn just shifted, his voice cracked inside my head. And I'm not sure it's ours anymore. Maximus' laughter rang sharp and false, hiding the truth. She's divine now. And not mine. And Aerion, Aerion froze. His rage cut through the bond like a blade. She is chaos. A flaw. Erasure is mercy. I shivered. Because I knew he was already coming for me.
When I stepped back through the portal, Malvor was waiting. No lights. No glitter. Just him. Barefoot. Quiet. His golden eyes soft and steady. He didn't speak. He didn't grin. He just wrapped his arms around me. Tight. Warm. Trembling. My forehead pressed to his chest. My fingers fisted in his shirt like I might fall if I let go. A sound escaped me, half grief, half relief, wholly raw.
"You did it," he whispered into my hair. "I'm so proud of you."
My chest twisted. "Then why does it feel like I lost something?"
"Because you did." His thumb brushed my jaw. Gentle. Certain. "But you're not broken. Just… free."
Free. The word burned and hollowed me all at once. I blinked up at him. My throat tight. "Aerion will come for me."
"He can't." Malvor's voice was steel under velvet. "Not here. My realm, my rules. He can't set foot inside without my permission."
"Are you sure?" My voice betrayed me, trembling with the fear I hadn't let anyone else see.
"Absolutely." His mouth quirked into that wicked grin that always made me want to hit him and kiss him at the same time. "My realm, my gates, my… very well-endowed borders."
A startled laugh burst out of me, wet with unshed tears. "Really?"
"What? You want me to start lying about sword size now too?"
I buried my face against his chest, still laughing, still crying. His arms tightened, heat and safety wrapping around me like a shield. He was making dick jokes like this was normal. "You're safe here," he whispered against my hair. "Even with my magic bound, the realm knows who it belongs to. Aerion can't storm in."
"Safe," I echoed, testing the word like it might crack.
"Safe," he promised again, softer now. "The law of the realms is older than his ego."
Gods, I wanted to believe him. So I did. I let myself lean on him. Let his heartbeat drown out the ache inside me. When I whispered, "Stay with me?" he answered without hesitation.
"Always."