The first riot did not begin with fire.
It began with silence.
Aerys felt it before any scream reached the citadel. A pocket of absence opened somewhere far to the south, a hollow in the instinctual weave that had once held Alpha hierarchy in place. It was not divine. It was not ancient.
It was new.
Nyxara stopped mid step. "You feel that too."
"Yes," Aerys said. His voice was low. "That is not rebellion. That is emergence."
They did not need to speak further. They both understood what that meant.
When instinct is freed, it does not always become gentle. Sometimes, it mutates.
They reached the southern quarter by dusk.
The streets were crowded, but not chaotic. People stood in clusters, watching something at the center of the square. No one shouted. No one fled. Their fear was held tight, compressed, like breath before a scream.
Aerys pushed forward, Nyxara at his side.
At the center of the square knelt a man.
Young. Barely past twenty. His hands trembled violently, pressed against his chest as if something inside him was trying to tear its way out. The ground beneath his knees was cracked, fractured outward in a perfect circle.
An Alpha circle.
But wrong.
"This should not be possible," Nyxara whispered. "He has no lineage mark."
"I erased lineage," Aerys replied quietly. "Not instinct."
The young man lifted his head.
His eyes were wrong.
Not glowing. Not shadowed. Clear.
Too clear.
He looked at Aerys, and recognition slammed between them like a collision.
"You," the man said hoarsely. "You broke it."
Aerys did not deny it. "Yes."
The crowd murmured.
The man staggered to his feet. The air bent around him, reacting not to command, but to volatility. "I can hear them," he said. "All of them. Every Alpha instinct that was buried. Every fear that was swallowed."
Nyxara took a careful step forward. "Breathe. You are not alone."
The man laughed. It was not kind. It was not cruel. It was unhinged.
"You freed us," he said to Aerys. "But you did not teach us how to live with it."
The ground trembled.
Aerys felt the pressure spike. This was not domination. This was overflow.
"You are becoming a focal point," Aerys said. "If you do not anchor yourself, you will tear this place apart."
The man's hands clenched. "Anchor to what? The gods lied. The Throne enslaved. And now you tell us to be calm?"
Nyxara's voice sharpened. "No. We tell you to choose."
That word landed.
The man faltered, just slightly.
"Choice," he echoed. "That is what burns."
Aerys stepped closer. He did not project power. He lowered himself, meeting the man's gaze at eye level.
"I did not free instinct to replace it with chaos," Aerys said. "But freedom does not come with instructions. It comes with responsibility."
The man swallowed hard. "Then why does it hurt?"
"Because you are carrying more than you were ever meant to," Aerys replied. "And because no one taught you how to set it down."
The air shuddered.
For a moment, it seemed the young Alpha might listen.
Then a voice cut through the square.
"Do not trust him."
Aerys stiffened.
From the edge of the crowd stepped a Seer.
Not cloaked. Not hidden. Bold.
"Do you not feel it?" the Seer called. "He broke the world and now pretends to guide you through the ruins. He took divinity for himself and left you with fragments."
The crowd stirred.
Nyxara's jaw tightened. "They are moving openly now."
"They have to," Aerys replied. "Fear works better in daylight."
The young Alpha's gaze flickered between them. "Is that true?" he asked. "Did you take it?"
Aerys answered honestly. "I refused it."
The Seer laughed. "A convenient lie."
Aerys straightened slowly. "No. A dangerous truth."
The Seer raised his hands. Symbols ignited in the air, pale and parasitic. Not divine magic. Borrowed authority.
"You see?" the Seer shouted. "He destabilized instinct. He created monsters. You are proof of his failure."
The young Alpha screamed.
The circle shattered.
Energy erupted outward, flinging bodies aside. Aerys moved instantly, anchoring the surge, pulling Nyxara behind him.
But the damage was done.
The Alpha stood at the center, breathing hard, eyes wild.
"I will not be controlled again," he said. "By gods. By Seers. Or by you."
Aerys felt something heavy settle in his chest.
This was it.
The consequence he could not prevent.
"You do not have to be alone," Aerys said.
The young Alpha shook his head. "You already left us alone."
He vanished.
Not teleported.
Fled.
The instinctal weave snapped back into place with violent recoil. The crowd scattered, screaming now, fear finally released.
Nyxara turned to Aerys, eyes dark with understanding. "This will happen again."
"Yes," Aerys said quietly. "And next time, they will not be confused. They will be angry."
The Seer retreated, smiling.
"The world is waking," he said. "And it will not thank you for it."
He disappeared into the chaos.
Silence returned to the square, broken only by sobbing and fractured stone.
Nyxara touched Aerys's arm. "Do you regret it?"
Aerys looked at the cracked ground, the frightened people, the echo of a power that should not exist.
"No," he said. "But now I understand."
"Understand what?"
"That ending godhood was the easy part," he replied. "Teaching the world how to live without chains will cost far more."
Nyxara nodded. "Then this is no longer just a war against gods."
Aerys lifted his gaze, feeling the ripples spreading across the land.
"No," he said. "This is a war of inheritance."
Far away, the new Alpha ran.
And as he ran, others would awaken.
Not chosen.
Not crowned.
But born from freedom.
And freedom, once unleashed, could never be forced back into obedience.
Night fell heavier after the riot.
Not because the torches were lit or the streets were emptied, but because instinct itself no longer knew where to rest. Aerys could feel it in his bones. The world was no longer humming in harmony. It fractured, vibrated, searched.
Every Alpha bond he had shattered was echoing back.
They returned to the citadel in silence.
Nyxara broke it first. "That boy will become a symbol."
"Yes," Aerys answered. "Or a weapon."
"Both," she corrected.
Inside the council chamber, the ancient murals watched them with blind reverence. Gods carved in stone. Alphas kneeling. A Throne untouched by time.
Aerys stared at it longer than he ever had before.
"For centuries," he said, "this seat told the world who deserved to breathe freely."
Nyxara leaned against the table. "And now?"
"Now the world is suffocating without instructions."
A messenger burst in, breathless. "Reports from the eastern border. Three awakenings. Not aligned to bloodlines. Not answering to any Alpha call."
Nyxara closed her eyes briefly.
Aerys asked, "Casualties?"
"Yes," the messenger said. "And worse. Some of them are organizing."
That word struck harder than violence.
"Organizing how?" Nyxara demanded.
"They call themselves the Unbound," the messenger replied. "They claim instinct belongs to those strong enough to survive it."
Aerys exhaled slowly.
This was the fracture becoming ideology.
"Send word," Aerys said. "No forced suppression. No execution."
The messenger hesitated. "The council will resist."
Aerys looked up. His eyes held no flame, no divinity, only certainty.
"Then remind them," he said quietly, "that there is no council above consequence anymore."
When the doors closed again, Nyxara approached him.
"You cannot save everyone," she said.
"I know," Aerys replied. "But I refuse to become the reason they fall."
She studied him. "You are bleeding."
Only then did he notice the crimson trailing down his palm. Instinct backlash. The price of anchoring too much chaos.
Nyxara took his hand, steadying him. "You are still human enough to break."
"That may be my greatest threat," he said.
A ripple tore through the chamber.
Not physical.
Instinctual.
Nyxara stiffened. "Someone just crossed the inner threshold."
The shadows twisted, and a figure emerged from the far archway.
The young Alpha.
Bruised. Breathless. Changed.
His presence was sharper now, condensed.
"I tried to run," he said. "It followed me."
Aerys felt it then. The weight. The pull.
"You did not run from instinct," Aerys said. "You ran toward dominance."
The Alpha laughed bitterly. "I ran toward survival."
Nyxara stepped forward. "What do you want?"
The Alpha's gaze locked onto Aerys. "Answers."
Aerys nodded. "Then listen carefully."
But the Alpha shook his head. "No. Not you."
His eyes flicked to the Throne.
"I want to know," he said, voice trembling with restrained power,"what happens when someone finally sits there again."
The chamber trembled.
Nyxara whispered, "Aerys…"
Aerys felt the truth settle cold in his chest.
This was not the end of godhood.
It was the beginning of a new hunger.
And this time, it would not come from the heavens.
Aerys met the Alpha's gaze and said the only honest thing left.
"If someone sits on that Throne again," he said,"the world will burn far worse than it ever did under gods."
The Alpha smiled.
"Then I suppose," he said softly,"we will see if you were right to destroy them."