The Sanctum had become a ruin of ash and broken symbols.
Lucian and Kyrell stood in the remnants of the ancient hall, the walls still humming from the aftershock of their bond's rebirth.
Lucian's blood lingered on Kyrell's lips—dark, shimmering, eternal.
But it was not peace that settled over them.
It was war.
---
pressing his palm to the new mark on his chest—a flame-ringed crescent, the sign of a union older than the Council's own law. "They felt it, Lucian. All of them." Said Kyrell
Lucian didn't look afraid.
He looked ready.
"They should," he said, turning from the shattered windows. "They were never gods. Only cowards who hid behind the old scriptures. Now they have to face what they feared."
Kyrell's breath hitched as he stepped forward, brushing his fingers against Lucian's jaw. "And what is that?"
Lucian caught his hand and held it to his mouth, kissing his wrist with reverence. "Us."
---
Deep beneath the Council's Tower...
Silas watched the candle flicker.
"It's done," one of the elder seers whispered. "He has awakened it."
"He didn't awaken it," Silas corrected, eyes fixed on the scrying pool. "He chose it. That's what they never understood."
The flames reflected the image of Lucian and Kyrell standing together amidst ruin—eyes glowing, hands linked, the bond pulsating like a living heart.
The seer swallowed. "What now?"
Silas turned slowly. "Now we bleed."
---
Elsewhere – The Night Forest
Damien was gone. Released. But not forgiven.
He knelt before the Darkwater altar, stripped of title and power, muttering names that should have stayed buried.
"I gave you everything," he whispered. "And still he chose him."
Behind him, something moved—not a beast, not a god.
A force.
"Help me end them."
The altar responded with silence… then with fire.
---
Back in Lucian's Chambers
Kyrell lay on the blood-stained sheets, hair damp, breath uneven. He had never looked more alive.
Lucian trailed his fingers along the line of his throat, slowly, like tracing the edge of a map made of desire.
"You know what happens next," Kyrell said, eyes searching his.
"Yes." Lucian's voice was rough silk. "But I want tonight first."
Kyrell arched under his touch, fingers digging into Lucian's back as their bodies tangled again. This time slower. Raw. Every breath a confession. Every thrust a promise of war and worship.
Lucian bit Kyrell's shoulder, not to wound—but to claim.
And Kyrell gave himself without hesitation, hands gripping Lucian like he was the only truth left.
Their bond deepened again—this time without blood.
Only flesh.
Only fire.
---