The Throne room did not erupt into chaos.
That was the most disturbing part.
No guards rushed forward. No instinct flared violently. The murals did not crack, the ancient stones did not scream in protest. The world simply waited, as if holding its breath.
The young Alpha stood a few steps from the dais, his posture neither submissive nor defiant. He was learning. Too quickly.
Aerys broke the silence first. "You should not be here."
The Alpha tilted his head. "Neither should the Throne still be standing."
Nyxara felt it then. The shift beneath her ribs. This one was different. Not corrupted. Not fractured. Refined.
Dangerously so.
"You were untrained," she said. "Your awakening was unstable."
"Uncontrolled," the Alpha corrected calmly. "Not unstable."
Aerys moved closer to the edge of the dais. "What is your name?"
The Alpha hesitated. "It was Caelen."
Aerys nodded once. "And now?"
"Now it does not fit," Caelen replied.
Nyxara's jaw tightened. Names were anchors. To abandon one meant instinct had already begun rewriting the self.
Aerys studied him carefully. "You organized the Unbound."
"Yes."
"You caused bloodshed."
"I caused resistance," Caelen said. "The blood was already promised."
Nyxara snapped, "By who?"
Caelen's gaze shifted to the murals, to the gods carved in stone, to the throne that still commanded the room despite its emptiness.
"By systems," he said. "By hierarchies that decide who deserves control and who deserves obedience."
Aerys felt something old stir in his chest. Not instinct. Memory.
"You believe instinct belongs to those strong enough to endure it," Aerys said.
"I believe," Caelen replied, "that instinct does not ask permission. Why should we?"
The air thickened.
Nyxara took a step forward. "Because unchecked instinct destroys everything it touches."
Caelen smiled faintly. "So do gods. And yet you served them."
Nyxara froze.
Aerys spoke quietly. "Choose your next words carefully."
"I am choosing them carefully," Caelen said. "I came to see if the stories were true."
"What stories?" Aerys asked.
"That the Alpha who shattered the gods now pretends to fear power," Caelen said. "That you broke the Throne, then left it standing so no one else could challenge you."
Nyxara turned sharply to Aerys. "That is not true."
"I know," Aerys said.
But doubt had already slipped into the chamber like smoke.
Caelen stepped closer. "If you truly believe no one should sit there again, destroy it."
Aerys did not move.
Nyxara felt her pulse spike. "This is not a debate."
"It is," Caelen said. "Because every Alpha outside this citadel is asking the same question."
Aerys exhaled slowly. "And what question is that?"
"Why you," Caelen answered. "Why you get to decide when power ends."
The ground trembled faintly.
Not from magic.
From instinct answering instinct.
Nyxara felt it ripple across the city. Alphas listening. Measuring.
Aerys looked at the Throne again.
He had destroyed gods to end a cycle.
But he had not destroyed belief.
"Leave," Aerys said at last.
Caelen raised an eyebrow. "That is it?"
"For now," Aerys replied. "You will take your Unbound and keep them from the inner territories."
"And if we refuse?"
Aerys met his gaze, voice steady. "Then I will stop you."
Caelen searched his face. "As a ruler?"
"No," Aerys said. "As a consequence."
Silence stretched.
Then Caelen laughed softly. "You still think consequences scare us."
He turned to leave, then paused at the threshold.
"One more thing," he said without looking back. "If you hesitate again, someone else will not."
The doors closed behind him.
Nyxara finally let out the breath she had been holding. "You should have ended him."
"Yes," Aerys said. "I should have."
"Then why didn't you?"
Aerys rubbed his temples. "Because killing him would make him right."
Nyxara's voice lowered. "And letting him live may doom us all."
A tremor passed through the chamber, sharper this time.
Aerys straightened. "That was not him."
"No," Nyxara agreed. "That was closer."
The air split near the far wall.
A Seer emerged, eyes glowing faintly with borrowed foresight.
"You are losing control," the Seer said calmly.
Aerys drew his blade halfway. "You are trespassing."
"Yes," the Seer replied. "We do that now."
Nyxara positioned herself between them. "Speak."
"The Unbound are spreading faster than predicted," the Seer said. "And Caelen is not their greatest concern."
Aerys felt cold settle in his gut. "Then who is?"
The Seer smiled thinly. "Someone who believes the Throne does not need to be occupied."
Nyxara stiffened. "Explain."
"He believes," the Seer continued, "that the Throne itself is the problem."
Aerys's grip tightened on his blade. "And his solution?"
"To erase the concept of Alpha entirely."
Silence crashed down.
Nyxara whispered, "That would tear the world apart."
"Yes," the Seer agreed. "And he is willing to let it happen."
Aerys closed his eyes briefly.
This was the path gods had walked.
Destroy everything to enforce an ideal.
When he opened them again, his voice was quiet but absolute.
"Find him."
The Seer hesitated. "And when you do?"
Aerys looked at Nyxara.
She met his gaze, fear and resolve entwined.
Aerys turned back to the Seer.
"Then," he said, "I will make the choice I have been avoiding."
Nyxara's breath caught. "Aerys…"
He did not look away.
"If the world must fear something again," he said,"it will not be gods."
The Seer bowed slowly.
"As you command," he said. "Alpha."
The word echoed long after he vanished.
Nyxara stared at Aerys. "You are stepping closer to the edge."
Aerys answered quietly, "I crossed it the moment I chose mercy."
Outside, the city pulsed with restless instinct.
And far beyond the walls, something ancient and patient smiled.
The citadel did not sleep.
From the balcony overlooking the lower districts, Aerys could see it clearly. Fires burning where there should have been none. Alphas standing too close to one another, not in alliance, but in assessment. Instinct measuring instinct.
Nyxara joined him, silent for a long moment.
"They are watching you," she said.
"I know."
"They are not waiting for orders anymore."
Aerys rested his hands on the cold stone railing. "That is what scares them most."
Nyxara turned toward him. "No. What scares them is that you are still hesitating."
He glanced at her. "You think I should rule."
"I think," she replied carefully, "that the world does not survive power vacuums."
Aerys exhaled through his nose. "That is how gods justified everything they did."
Nyxara's voice hardened. "And yet the absence of gods has already killed thousands."
The words landed harder than accusation.
Aerys looked back at the city. "Every choice I make turns me into something I swore I would never become."
Nyxara stepped closer. "Then stop swearing and start surviving."
He finally faced her. "Is that what you are doing?"
Her expression faltered for half a breath.
"I am doing what I was made to do," she said.
The honesty hurt more than any lie.
Aerys lowered his voice. "You said once you were forged, not born."
"Yes."
"By whom?"
Nyxara hesitated. The night wind tugged at her cloak.
"By those who believed the world needed a leash," she said. "And someone strong enough to hold it."
Aerys's chest tightened. "And now?"
"Now," she said softly, "they are wondering if that someone is you."
A distant cry echoed from below. Not fear. Anger.
Aerys felt the instinctual pull again, sharper this time, like a hook beneath his ribs.
"They are choosing sides," Nyxara said.
"And you?" Aerys asked.
She met his gaze without flinching. "I have always chosen you."
"That is not an answer," he said.
"It is the only one I have left."
Before he could respond, a pulse surged through the city. Strong. Singular.
Aerys stiffened. "That was not the Unbound."
Nyxara's eyes widened. "No. That was controlled."
Aerys turned toward the inner sanctum. "Someone just claimed authority."
Nyxara followed his gaze. "Not over territory."
"Over instinct," Aerys finished.
The realization settled like ash.
Nyxara whispered, "If he succeeds, Alphas will not need a Throne."
Aerys straightened, resolve hardening. "Then he becomes worse than gods."
Footsteps echoed behind them.
A scout dropped to one knee. "My lord. We have confirmation."
"Of what?" Aerys demanded.
The scout swallowed. "The man the Seer warned you about."
Nyxara's voice was tight. "Where?"
The scout lifted his head. "He is not gathering followers."
Aerys frowned. "Then what is he doing?"
The scout met his eyes.
"He is erasing them."
Silence swallowed the balcony.
Aerys felt something inside him finally give way.
"Prepare the inner guard," he said.
Nyxara touched his arm. "Aerys. If you go after him like this, there will be no turning back."
Aerys looked at her, eyes dark, steady.
"There was never a way back," he said.
Then, quieter, so only she could hear:
"Only a way forward that I can still live with."
Nyxara searched his face, then nodded once.
"Then let us pray," she said softly,"that the world survives what you are about to become."
Aerys did not answer.
Below them, instinct roared.
And somewhere in the dark, the idea of an Alpha without restraint began to take shape.