🎵 Music Suggestion:
"The Devil's Back" by You+Me
(For when vengeance tastes like love and ash.)
---
They rode toward the old tribunal hall long before the sun could threaten the horizon.
Lucian didn't dress in council robes. He wore black—plain, sharp, final. A thin red line stitched across the collar of his coat, barely visible unless the light hit just right. It was the only sign of blood he'd offer before it spilled.
Kyrell rode behind him, silent, cloaked, eyes half-lidded as if still somewhere between memory and oblivion. His hands trembled under the folds, though he never complained. The aftermath of the psychic torture still coiled in his bones like rot that refused to leave.
They said nothing.
Not until the horses slowed near the stone archway that marked the border of council territory.
"You don't have to come in with me," Lucian said, not looking at him.
Kyrell tilted his head. "You say that like you think I won't."
"You're still recovering."
"I'd rather die beside you than live behind you."
Lucian's lips twitched. But it wasn't amusement. It was pain masked as pride.
"Then stay close. If they try to separate us again—"
"They won't," Kyrell cut in. "Because this time, we fight."
Lucian nodded once, and they crossed the archway.
---
The chamber was already filled when they arrived.
The circular hall—once a sanctuary for decision-making—now held all the grace of a battlefield. Elders lined the marble thrones, dressed in obsidian and silver. The scent of ancient blood clung to the pillars. Mara was there too, behind the dais, looking beautifully broken. Damien lurked in the shadows, arms folded across his chest, gaze burning into Kyrell like acid.
Elder Aven was the one who spoke first.
"You were warned."
Lucian took his place at the center of the circle. Kyrell stood a pace behind him, defiant despite the weight on his shoulders.
"I was," Lucian said, voice cool as a winter cut. "And I chose to ignore it."
"You bring a threat into these walls," snarled Elder Jurel. "A thing that defies the balance—"
"He's not a thing," Lucian snapped. "He's a man. One who bled and broke because you were afraid of what you didn't understand."
Murmurs. Some of the Elders shifted uncomfortably. Others watched with gleaming disinterest.
"And if we sentence him to death?" asked Thalos, half his face still charred, a sneer tugging at his ruined skin. "Will you murder us all, Lucian? Like some lovesick deity?"
Lucian smiled darkly. "Try it and see."
The chamber flickered—candles dying and reigniting as if caught in Lucian's pulse. The air turned too warm. Magic rose from the floor like smoke.
"You think because you love him that makes him safe?" Thalos laughed.
"No," Lucian said, stepping closer. "I think because I love him, it makes you unsafe."
At that, Damien pushed off the wall. "You're not thinking clearly, Lucian. You're compromised. You let this… connection weaken you."
Lucian's gaze turned to him. "Funny. For someone who claimed to want Kyrell safe, you never lifted a finger to protect him when they broke into his mind."
Damien's face cracked. For the first time, words didn't come easy.
Kyrell moved beside Lucian, standing at full height. "Let me speak."
Lucian hesitated, then nodded.
Kyrell looked at the Council—at all of them. His voice was quiet, but it carried:
"I never asked for this power. I never asked to be born between bloodlines or to burn with magic I didn't understand. But I'm done apologizing for existing."
He raised his hand, and a thin thread of magic unfurled—silver and red, pulsing like breath.
"I remember now. What I am. Who I am. And I will not be judged by cowards hiding behind thrones."
The room went still.
Then Thalos stood.
"Then die on your feet."
Lucian was in front of Kyrell before the first bolt of magic flew.
He caught it with his hand.
And crushed it.
The chamber screamed.
Lucian's voice turned low, ancient, not his own.
"If one more spell leaves your fingers, I will unmake every trace of your name from this realm."
And for a moment, even the oldest of the Elders… believed him.
---