Chapter 33
By the following evening, the rain that had flooded Helion’s streets had turned to snow, and the city glowed beneath it. Across the capital, holo-screens had been raised in the central arena, where thousands gathered to watch the private Aureate broadcast live from the Green Mansion.
The gardens of the Green Mansion were known across Helion for their elegance.
Terraces were carved from white stone, trees spliced to bloom in twin colors, and lanterns tuned to glow with soft magnetic light.
On nights like this, the air shimmered faintly with current, a hum that kissed the skin.
Somewhere beyond the mansion walls, a slow rhythm pulsed in time with the city’s breath, faint and ritualistic, part of Helion’s living heartbeat.
Guests arrived in waves, each stranger more striking than the last. Women with glass-thread hair, men with opal eyes, attendants whose veins glowed faintly with gold.
Their laughter mingled with the scent of citrus and static.
Kylix arrived with Mirel by his side, both wrapped in identical black cloaks trimmed with fur.
The symmetry of their attire drew every glance as they crossed the illuminated grounds.
Whispers followed, their matching figures like twin shadows among the glow.
Some guests bowed, others simply stared, unable to hide the fascination that rippled across their faces.
Milanov moved among the guests, his white cape sweeping behind him, the fur mirroring the ones worn by his sons.
He raised his glass as he passed a cluster of courtiers.
“Not a public Aureate this time,” he said, amused.
“But don’t worry, the outcome will be the same.
” Laughter rippled through the crowd, bright and uneasy.
Then he turned toward Kylix. “Walk with me, nephew.”
Kylix followed him along the edge of the grounds, past the scent of snow-bloom lilies and polished stone. Milanov’s tone softened. “It’s a beautiful night. Helion looks peaceful, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Kylix said. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
“My Norma has come home safely for your Oath of Measure. The hospital brought her and Celia here earlier. They rest in the winter gardens.” Milanov sighed. “Sixteen years since she last walked here.” He touched the edge of a lily petal. “She loved this place.”
Kylix nodded. “I remember.”
He remembered how Norma and his mother had tended this same terrace together, hours spent shaping vines and blossoms with quiet devotion.
“Light be with me, but I can feel she is waking, Kael. I can feel it.” The old name hit deep, a spark of childhood memory.
Milanov smiled faintly. “Moargan laughs at me for it, but something stirs in the air. When Aviel was found, she stirred. Then Cyprian. And now Mirel. The Dariux moves through them all. And through her.”
Kylix studied him carefully. “You think she’s returning?”
“I do.” Milanov’s gaze flicked to the distant glow of the mansion.
“I’m proud of you, Kylix. You’ve grown into your place.
I’m glad your parents are here to see Mirel’s strength.
Ice,” he said with a quiet laugh. “Who would have thought? Just know, that my home will always be yours too. Yours and your bonded. The ice to your fire.”
Kylix smiled faintly. “Sometimes the fire needs to remind people it still burns.”
Milanov chuckled, pleased. “The Aureate will be filmed tonight for those gathered in the Helion arena. I understand Mirel’s wish for privacy, but our people need reassurance. They need their heroes. Tonight, they will see that Helion endures.”
“I understand.”
“Of course you do. You are a fantastic man, and both my sons need you in their leadership.” Milanov clasped him briefly in a hug. Kylix hesitated, then returned it. The man had been like a father for many years.
They returned to the terrace where guests gathered beneath hanging lanterns. The rhythm grew louder, steady and low, a pulse beneath the laughter.
Milanov raised his glass. “Welcome to the Green Mansion, my friends. Tonight we share in the Oath of Measure, a promise and a prelude to the true ceremony yet to come. May you enjoy the warmth of our home and the generosity of its table.”
Kylix stood behind him, feeling faint tension under the applause. His parents watched nearby, pride glowing like heat beneath his ribs.
When Milanov lowered his glass, he nodded to his sons. “My sons will show you a glimpse of what the future will look like.”
Moargan moved first, smiling. “Our family thanks you for your loyalty. May you enjoy the evening and all it celebrates.”
Helianth followed, charming as ever. “And may the wine last longer than our speeches,” he said, earning laughter.
Then Kylix stepped forward, voice calm and sure.
“I’m grateful you could all be here. It means more to our family than you know.
Tonight marks the beginning of something worth keeping.
” He found Mirel across the terrace. The black fur of his cloak caught the glow, his face unreadable but beautiful.
“My bonded and I thank you for your presence. Let the evening continue.”
Applause rippled. The rhythm deepened. Glasses clinked. Then, slowly, silence crept back between the notes of conversation until only the soft percussion remained.
Milanov’s hand brushed his shoulder in approval before he turned back to the guests. “Spoken well. Now, let us enjoy what comes next.”
The Luminary guards entered the light, black and gold uniforms gleaming, boots striking the path in perfect cadence. Their presence alone hushed the laughter. They took position behind the fountain, movements exact, expressions hidden behind smooth visors.
Milanov gestured. “And here he is. Come closer, my boy.”
Mirel stepped forward, the black fur of his cape brushing the marble, his attire matching Kylix’s dark elegance.
Lantern light caught in the pale edges of his blond hair and glimmered in his yellow eyes, the same vivid shade as Cyprian’s, bright and unyielding.
He looked regal, but Kylix could see the tension under the surface, the faint tightness in his shoulders, the measured breath of someone who felt every gaze on him. He didn’t bow, but simply stood there.
Whispers rippled.
“He looks so small.”
“Small, yes, but they say his touch could stop a heart.”
“Let’s hope it’s not ours.”
Kylix’s jaw tightened. This was the ritual. Restraint over impulse.
The air cooled. Sound dropped a register. Milanov’s voice carried from somewhere behind. “Helion honors its traditions. Let us remember that justice can be beautiful.”
Moargan leaned toward Helianth, smiling. “Always the same. Delicious. I can almost hear the screams before they start.”
Helianth’s grin brightened. “Not much screaming tonight. It’s going to get very cold.” Their father’s quiet nod told everyone what came next.
Kylix felt the anticipation settle low in his body, heat pooling beneath his ribs. His incisor itched, a faint pulse of hunger that made him clench his jaw to keep still.
Then boots struck the path again. A soft ruffle joined them from unseen percussion. From the garden’s edge, the guards appeared, black and gold uniforms gleaming. Behind them came the prisoners in violet jumpsuits, wrists bound with glowing restraint cuffs that pulsed in rhythm with their hearts.
The procession became a catwalk of ruin beneath the lights. Servants carried trays of shimmering drinks and cold Helion delicacies of sliced sea-fruit and spiced roots in silver leaves. Laughter softened as the prisoners crossed the grounds.
Kylix recognized each face. He had arrested them himself. The Doctor blinked, confused. The Attica rebels trembled.
Two men stood apart from the line, purple jumpsuits marked with the same insignia he remembered from the frost-stained cells of the graveyard.
One stared straight ahead, lips pressed in defiance, the other smirked faintly, proud of the damage he had done.
Kylix felt no satisfaction, only the cold precision of a promise kept. And then there was Theo, pretty even in fear, blond curls damp, blue eyes wide and lost.
Mirel turned toward Kylix. The question sat silent in his eyes.
Kylix’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “You think you can tell me what they did to you and I’d let them live?” he said quietly.
Helianth stood a step behind him, arms folded, silent and certain.
Around him, people shifted. The rhythm deepened. His eyes found Mirel, and the bond stirred under his skin. Mirel didn’t look at him, but Kylix felt the pull, felt the calm before the strike. Pride mingled with love, heat with restraint. Mirel was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Mirel moved, slow and deliberate, cloak sweeping like shadow. Faces turned as he passed, some wary, some awed, some unable to decide which.
The percussion ceased. Stillness followed.
“Please,” someone pleaded. “I have a wife and two children.”
Mirel halted before Doctor Serrin. “This is all a misunderstanding,” the man said quickly. “I never released the prisoner Bekn. I worked at the prison, and when Attica found me, there was no way to escape them. I didn’t—”
Mirel lifted his hand. The Doctor’s mouth clamped shut. “I know.”
He moved on. A ripple of anticipation swept the nobles. He stopped before Theo.
“P-please,” Theo begged.
Mirel touched his cheek. “Why do you let him?”
Theo’s eyes filled. “He’s all I have.”
Mirel’s finger traced the tear that rolled down Theo’s cheek. It turned to ice on the other man’s face, unmoving as it lingered just below his eye.
“Long live Helion!” someone called.
“Long live the dead!”
For a moment it looked as if Theo stayed frozen. Kylix’s hands closed around the stem of his glass until it creaked. Beautiful, he thought. Terrifying.
Aviel stepped forward, parting the crowd as though the air itself obeyed him. The sound of his boots turned every head.
“Careful, frostling,” he said lightly. “If you ruin this one, I’ll be bored all week.”