Chapter 8
After speaking with his sister, Rain felt a renewed determination to begin the long work of reclaiming his powers.
He knew better than to expect immediate results; healing would take time, patience, and surrender.
If Isarion said this was the path, then he would follow it.
The Elder’s guidance had never led him astray.
Fresh from a hot soak, still damp from the bath, Rain wore only a pair of dark blue muslin trousers.
The fabric clung softly to his hips where water lingered, the silver-embroidered cuffs brushing his ankles as he padded barefoot across the blue-and-gold veined marble floor toward the meditation chamber.
He stepped through arched mahogany doors adorned with intricate gold filigree, and a warm golden glow embraced him.
Above, the domed midnight ceiling, that was hand-painted and scattered with tiny, gilded constellations, shimmered gently in the candlelight.
Neel had clearly taken great care when preparing the space: hundreds of tea lights flickered in clusters of varying heights, nestled within ornate lanterns that fractured the flames into radiant patterns.
The room glowed softly, soothingly, like starlight rippling across water.
At the heart of the chamber, atop a plush circular rug of deep sapphire velvet embroidered with fine gold mandalas, rested a low meditation dais draped in sheer, flowing fabrics of midnight blue.
Oversized silk and velvet cushions in royal blue and gold were scattered across it—some tufted, some tasselled, all decadently soft.
Smaller pillows filled with crushed lavender and sandalwood released a faint, calming perfume into the air.
Around the perimeter, tall obelisks and polished podiums displayed geodes and crystals of every hue, each one catching the candlelight and refracting it in glistening shards.
At the far curve of the room, a bubbling alabaster-and-gold fountain murmured gently, its sound a quiet invitation to harmony.
From hidden alcoves, ambient music drifted through the space—a meditative blend of harp, bells, soft chanting, and the occasional resonant note of a crystal singing bowl. The sound rose and fell like breath, offering a rhythm for his own to follow.
Every detail of the chamber had been crafted with intention: a sanctuary designed to draw him inward, toward stillness, toward sovereignty.
On the dais rested a decorative brass tray bearing a large copper bowl of steaming water, its surface scattered with fragrant herbs and soft petals.
Beside it lay four of the prince’s personal palm stones forged of Labradorite, Obsidian, Nuummite, and Blue Aetherchrome and a golden goblet filled with fresh spring water.
Rain settled before the tray, adjusting the cushions beneath him until they supported his crossed-legged posture just right.
After a hard workout and a long, hot bath, his muscles hummed pleasantly, a warm current of oxytocin still drifting through him.
Positive energy vibrated through his body as he inhaled the aromatic vapours rising from the bowl.
He clasped two stones, choosing Obsidian and Blue Aetherchrome and rested them against his thighs as he straightened his spine.
Rolling his shoulders back, he let his head sway gently from side to side, releasing the tension that always gathered there.
The movement travelled down his body as he drew in a deep breath, exhaling slowly, repeating the cycle until his eyes drifted shut and he felt his body’s rhythm melt into the room.
The next step was to clear his mind; to let thoughts drift in and out without attaching to them.
But as if to prove how difficult that was for him, his mind immediately latched onto thoughts of Jay.
First came a simple image: Jay’s soft, handsome face flickering in his mind’s eye, tugging a small smile to Rain’s lips.
He let it float away, only for memories of their intimacy to rise in its place.
A pang of guilt twisted sharply in his chest, dragging Ivy’s touch to the forefront of his thoughts.
Her lips on his skin. Their bodies entwined.
Why are you such a dick?
Her voice echoed through his skull, sharp and merciless.
He exhaled in a huff, mentally scolding himself, shaking his head as though he could rattle the thoughts loose. Inhale. Exhale. Relax the shoulders. Thoughts come in. Thoughts go out. A mantra he repeated silently.
Thoughts barged their way in.
Why am I such a dick? Ivy was right. What kind of psychopath tells someone they love them and then, in the same breath, betrays them?
With my betrothed, of all people. As if that excuses anything.
You slaughter his people and then shatter every bit of trust he had in you, like he means nothing.
Brilliant, Rain. Truly. And worst of all, you still cling to that pathetic sliver of hope that his forgiving nature will give you a free pass. You absolute Dickhead…
With a heavy sigh, he flopped backward onto the padded cushions, the stones slipping from his palms onto the sheer fabric.
He punched the large pillow beside him, frustration billowing out in a hot wave.
He had kept these thoughts boxed away, convincing himself he didn’t need to face them—as if ignoring them would make them disappear.
Staring up at the dotted constellations above, he remembered the hours—sometimes days—he had spent here as a teenager.
He even had a favourite constellation. One, shaped like a rabbit, he had named Lazlo.
He used to talk to it as though it were a real friend.
In truth, it probably was the closest thing he had to one, aside from his twin.
His gaze lingered on Lazlo as sorrow filled his chest. He wasn’t a boy anymore.
He couldn’t hide behind the illusion of innocence—not that he’d ever had much of it.
Young by Aetherial standards, yes, but life had carved him early.
Trauma had forced him to grow fast, to shoulder burdens far beyond his years.
He had learned to navigate complex emotions long before he understood them, to survive situations that should never have belonged to someone so young.
His heart had shattered into a thousand shards before he even grasped what love truly meant.
It wasn’t fair. No one should have to endure such a life.
Blinking away from the ceiling, he pushed himself upright again. He took a swig of water from the goblet, then set it down with a steadying breath. His fingers hovered over the Nuummite.
“I forgive myself,” he whispered, voice tight around the lump in his throat.
He gathered the fallen stones, re-positioned himself, and drew in another slow breath.
This time, as he resumed the rhythm of his meditation, clarity settled over him—not because his problems had vanished, but because he understood that whatever challenges rose to meet him, he would endure them. He always had.
After several challenging minutes of observing his thoughts without attachment, Rain finally slipped into an elevated state of consciousness.
A profound calm unfurled through him, vast and quiet, yet he remained faintly aware of the tether anchoring him to his physical form.
Tranquillity filled his mind as he drifted deeper, freed from the weight of the waking world.
In the darkness, a faint white light flickered. Small at first, then swelling as it drifted closer, sharpening into a diamond-like shape.
Help me, it twitched, each syllable a trembling whisper.
Help me, the call came again, this time layered, many voices speaking as one, overlapping in discordant harmony.
The light expanded until it burst apart, dissolving into millions of shimmering particles that rained down around his mind space.
As they fell, the taunting plea faded, and a new scene took shape.
A young aetherial girl appeared, no older than ten, her deep auburn hair catching the sunlight as she giggled. Her bright green eyes glowed with unfiltered joy.
“That’s right, Skylar. You are destined to be the greatest queen this realm will ever know,” a male voice assured her.
The vision widened to reveal a lush garden overflowing with flowers and greenery. The male knelt beside her, dressed in regal attire that marked his importance.
“Not greater than you, Daddy!” she chirped, scrunching her nose.
“You will be magnificent, my darling. It has been foretold, just you wait and see.” He tapped her nose affectionately.
“Silly Daddy, who told you that?” she demanded, hands planted on her hips with theatrical flair.
Before he could answer, Skylar gasped. Her small body went limp. Her father lunged forward, catching her as her head snapped back, revealing eyes gone inky black. Horror carved itself across his features as her body convulsed violently.
“Guards!” he barked, voice sharp with fear. “Fetch Nora—now! Tell her it is happening again. The Princess is having another episode!”
Armoured footsteps clattered away. He cradled the trembling child closer.
“Skylar, if you can hear me, Daddy’s right here. Fear not, my little rainbow.”
Moments later, a delicate woman with vibrant red hair sprinted through the garden paths, falling to her knees beside them.
“Has she spoken yet?” she panted, her expression mirroring the father’s terror. She brushed a lock of hair from the girl’s face.
“Nothing. I called for you the moment it overtook her.”
They watched helplessly as Skylar’s body shook in his arms. Then, with a sickening twist, her head jerked unnaturally, and a voice that was not her own, spilled from her lips.
“The birth of the royal rose, twinned with the shadowed seed,
Twisted at root, it should have been destroyed.
In mourning’s grip, you cursed the source.
The vines are growing.
The vines are growing.
She shall be the last of great power,
For he will ensure —
The vines are growing.
The vines are growing.
Three hundred years of her reign, the Darkness will rise,
Until a worthy sacrifice.
The vines will be slowed, not stopped, only stalled.
A millennium of weakened star-blood shall follow,
Until a Rainbow emerges beside the snow,
Where the last seed of hope will reside.
The vines are growing.”
As the final words left her mouth, Skylar whimpered. Her eyes shifted back to their familiar green. Her father wrapped both mother and daughter in a desperate embrace.
The scene dissolved abruptly.
A dark cave materialised; Rain recognised it from his dreams. Black vines of shadow writhed through the aerth. The Aetherchrome, once radiant, now lay entombed and dim. Yet where thin cracks of daylight pierced the stone, an iridescent sheen shimmered faintly across its surface.
Save me, echoed through the cavern, the plea repeating as the vision fractured into a rapid cascade of images: a palace in its prime, newborn infants, a funeral shrouded in white, a crowned queen, battlefields drenched in smoke and blood.
The flashes accelerated until they blurred beyond comprehension. Into nothing. Blankness.
The diamond-shaped light returned, pulsing now with an eerie, rhythmic breath. When it spoke, its voice was not singular. It was layered—deep and high, warm and cold, masculine and feminine—as though several gods spoke through one mouth, their tones overlapping in imperfect unity.
“Rain Beau, our Rainbow child.
So careless. So reckless.
Yet already so powerful.
We have waited for you for a thousand turns.
The path before you is veiled in trial,
Yet it is yours by right.
Step forward, true king,
With a heart unshaken.
You do not walk alone.
By our unseen hands,
Balance is restored within you—
Discord stilled,
The current made whole.
Long have we waited.
Do not falter.
Do not fail us all.”
A blinding light tore through the void, jolting him back into his body.
Rain gasped, grounding himself with slow breaths as his pulse thundered.
It felt as though his soul had been hurled back into his skin.
His palms loosened around the stones, placing them shakily onto the tray.
Sweat clung to him, his hair plastered to his forehead, he looked and felt as though he had woken from a fever dream.
He drained the last of the water from the chalice, mind racing.
Was he truly meant for something beyond suffering?
Or was the suffering itself part of the purpose?
He had always felt like the punchline to some cosmic joke and now a higher power was calling him king. The irony was almost laughable. He had never wanted the crown, no matter what his birthright dictated.