Chapter 4 — Blood of the Betrayed
Days bled into weeks, weeks into months.Within the gilded walls of the Imperial Palace, Rigorus still slept. His body no longer pale, his wounds no longer open he healed, not at the pace of mortals, but like something beyond flesh. Veins ran with fire, bones knitted stronger than steel. The healers whispered that his recovery defied reason, but none dared question aloud.
Meanwhile, far beneath the ruined Draeven lands, a different struggle unfolded.
Celestia sat with Naelira and the surviving Draeven elders in the flickering light of their hidden refuge. Maps were scattered across the table, their edges curling with age. Every elder's face bore the same shadow where now? Their lands were rubble, their homes ash.
"We have coin enough for four months," one elder rasped. "Food, yes. Shelter, perhaps. But after that…" He shook his head.
Silence followed. No one had an answer. Only waiting.
Naelira lowered her head, hands resting against her growing belly. Her child their last hope pressed against her, a reminder that life persisted even in ruin. Celestia, vigilant as ever, laid a hand on her arm.
"You will not overwork yourself," Celestia said softly. "Not now. Your strength belongs to more than just you."
Naelira's lips curved into a faint smile. In the quiet hours that followed, the two women's bond deepened whispers of fears, shared fragments of laughter, the fragile weaving of trust in the ashes of a shattered clan.
But across the sea, in a land already consumed by Nemoran rule, something darker stirred.
Kaelvron lay broken in the infirmary, a ruin of the godlike terror he once was. His body, charred and shattered, floated half-dead in silence.
Vaelus entered. Behind him, fifteen elders shuffled nervously once proud men, now trembling lambs brought to slaughter.
The massacre was swift. Steel, bone, and sorcery tore through them. Limbs severed, throats cut. Their blood spilled in rivers, pooling into a carved marble tub. One by one, their corpses were suspended upside down, heads angled downwards, throats gushing into the basin where Kaelvron's broken form lay.
The liquid rose. Red. Thick. Boiling with stolen life.
Hours passed, until the blood was gone, soaked into Kaelvron's flesh. His skin knit. Bone reformed. Fingers stretched. His chest heaved and then he stood. Whole again.
But Vaelus's eyes burned, his voice venom."You disgust me."
Kaelvron grinned, crimson dripping from his lips. "And yet… you saved me, brother."
"Don't mistake it for loyalty." Vaelus's tone was a blade. "Next time, I will not waste my strength. I have enough enemies clawing at my back without cleaning up your failures."
Kaelvron's smirk faltered, replaced with a flash of anger. "Failures? I fought Rigorus when you could not. That boy"
"..That boy nearly killed you," Vaelus snapped, stepping closer, aura cracking the air around them. "Hear me, Kaelvron: I will never lose again. Not to Rigorus. Not to anyone. And if you falter once more… I will leave you to rot."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Two titans, their clashing pride nearly igniting the room itself.
Back in the Imperial lands, three months had passed. Rigorus walked again. Whole. Alive. Stronger than before. His meeting with Prince Daevoryn and Princess Aelistra had been quiet, solemn. They spoke of alliances, of futures, of debts owed.
But Daevoryn's words ended with a suggestion:"It is time you meet our father."
The Emperor was old, frail, bound to his chambers by sickness. But nothing escaped him — every rumor, every whisper of rebellion or hope. And Aelistra's eyes shone with something else altogether unhidden joy, the thrill of simply watching Rigorus walk again, his presence filling the halls.
She loved him. Entirely. Irrevocably.
The doors to the Emperor's chambers loomed ahead. Guards pushed them open, bowing low.
Rigorus stepped inside.
And froze.
The air thickened. His heart thundered. The world tilted.
On the throne before him the man who had cast Naelira into torment. The architect of her suffering. The shadow who haunted her nights.
Disgust twisted through Rigorus like venom. His fists clenched, jaw grinding.This… is the man I must bow to?
The Emperor's sunken eyes lifted slowly, weighing him, measuring him.And the chamber held its breath, as two histories one scarred by betrayal, the other etched with vengeance — collided.