Solace's P.O.V
The air inside the Thera gates didn't just feel different; it felt alive. As I rode through the sprawling courtyards, the silver trumpets continued to blare, a sound so triumphant it vibrated in my very marrow. I could still feel the phantom sting of the Erindale betrayal on my skin—the memory of that traitorous soldier selling our lives for ten bags of gold—but it was being washed away by the sheer, overwhelming reality of this place.
I dismounted in the shadow of the Great Keep, my boots hitting white stone that seemed to glow with an inner moonlight. Evander and the Legions had already begun to disperse, their faces masks of awe, but Alaric remained a constant shadow at my side.
"Go," I whispered to him, my voice thick. "Find rest. I need to... I need to see."
He lingered for a heartbeat, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach for me, before he nodded and followed a silver-clad steward.
I climbed the spiral stairs of the royal wing alone. My lantern flickered, casting long, dancing shadows against walls carved with the history of a people I was only just beginning to claim. When I reached the heavy mahogany doors at the end of the hall, my breath hitched. These were my parents' chambers.
The doors groaned open, revealing a room frozen in time. Dust danced in the shafts of moonlight, but the scent—lavender, old parchment, and a trace of woodsmoke—remained. I walked to the vanity, my fingers trembling as I touched a discarded hairbrush, a silk shawl, a half-written letter.
I looked into the tall, silver-rimmed mirror and gasped. For a second, I didn't see the scarred mercenary in dirt-stained leathers. I saw the woman from the magical ink in the letter. I saw the Queen. The magic in my veins surged, responding to the stone of the castle, and the room began to glow. I wasn't an outcast anymore. I was the heartbeat of a kingdom that refused to stay dead.
Alaric's P.O.V
I stood on the balcony of the guest quarters, my hands gripping the stone railing so hard my knuckles ached. Below me, Thera was a sea of light and weeping joy. It was a miracle—a kingdom birthed from the dirt—and yet, a cold stone sat in the pit of my stomach.
I thought of the King of Erindale's face when I had demanded the traitor be caught. I had tasted the fear in his voice, and it had tasted like my father. The realization haunted me. I had crossed the border, I had betrayed my empire, and I had watched a dead world rise, all for the woman who was currently walking through a palace of ghosts.
Solace.
Even now, I could feel the resonance of her power humming through the floorboards. It was a golden, ancient thing, far more beautiful and terrifying than the hollow curse that was eating my father alive. He had wanted this power to save himself; I wanted it because it was hers.
I looked out toward the distant horizon, where the dark forests of Aevum lay hidden in the night. My father would know by now. He would have felt the shockwave of the Thera gates opening. He would be coming, driven by a madness that no longer recognized his own son.
I was the Prince of the House of Aevum, the son of the man who had murdered Solace's family. And yet, as I watched the silver banners of Thera snap in the wind, I knew I would die before I let a single Aevum soldier touch these walls. I wasn't just protecting a woman anymore; I was guarding a resurrection.
I turned back toward the room, my mind already mapping out the defenses of a castle I had only just entered. We were home, but the war was just beginning to find its teeth.