🎵 Music Suggestion:
"In This Shirt" by The Irrepressibles
(For that breathless hush after someone dares the world to burn.)
---
The council chamber didn't breathe.
After Lucian crushed Thalos' spell like glass between his fingers, even the most arrogant mouths stayed closed. Magic still pulsed faintly in the air, like static left behind from a lightning strike—but no one dared summon it again.
Not yet.
Lucian's eyes burned crimson. Not glowing, not flickering—burning. His voice had dropped back into its usual timber, but no one missed the echo that still clung to the walls when he spoke.
"If you want a war over love," he said, "then say so plainly."
Thalos lowered his hand, jaw clenched. Behind him, Elder Mara stepped forward—not as a rival this time, but something more cryptic. She looked at Kyrell, then Lucian, then back at the rest of the council.
"This has gone too far," she said. Her voice was thin, tired, too soft for her usual venom. "We've bled kingdoms for less. And still, we're the ones left with ashes in our hands."
Kyrell's shoulders tensed. He didn't trust her sudden neutrality.
Neither did Lucian.
Damien broke the silence, stepping forward again. "You think the council fears you, Lucian? Maybe. But fear doesn't mean surrender. They're regrouping now, not retreating. You've forced their hand, but they will strike again."
Lucian didn't blink. "Let them."
Damien's jaw tightened. His eyes flicked once to Kyrell, then back. "He's worth that much to you?"
Lucian didn't answer with words.
Instead, he reached for Kyrell's hand in front of everyone.
And held it.
Every Elder's reaction varied—some disgusted, some visibly moved, some unreadable.
Kyrell didn't move, but the faintest twitch of emotion shimmered in his expression. Just enough for Lucian to feel it. Just enough for Mara to frown.
"You've made your stand," said Aven coldly. "Now what? Do you expect clemency? An apology? We are bound by law older than your name."
"I expect respect," Lucian said. "I expect that you leave him the hell alone. Or I burn your laws down and write my own."
"And what if someone else decides you're the threat?" Thalos hissed.
Lucian turned fully to him now.
"Then pray they kill me before I kill you."
A crack split the marble under his feet—hairline, but unmistakable. No spell. Just pressure. Just promise.
---
They left that night with no verdict. Only silence.
A silence that tasted like war.
Outside the chamber, Kyrell stopped at the edge of the moonlit stairs. His body trembled with the memory of the heat in that room, but his voice was calm.
"You didn't have to do that."
Lucian didn't respond right away. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon.
"I know," he said at last. "But I would again."
"You're not afraid of what they'll do?"
"I'm afraid of losing you."
That time, Kyrell leaned in first. Just enough for their shoulders to brush. His voice was barely a breath.
"Then don't."
And Lucian didn't move away.
Not tonight.