Chapter 12 #2
"That's impossible," I said, but even as I spoke, I felt something shift inside me, like a puzzle piece clicking into place. The dreams, the strange sense of recognition when I looked at this man, the way my heart had clenched when I first saw him—maybe it wasn't impossible after all.
“You never told me of a brother,” said Taveth, his creepy white eyes still fixed on mine.
"I lied," Aytara said simply. "To protect you both."
I felt my world tilting on its axis. "Protect us from what?"
Aytara looked between Taveth and me, her expression soft with old grief. "Your father was Sayven Nemele, one of our greatest mages. Your mother was an Imperial woman he met during a reconnaissance mission near the border. They fell in love, despite the impossibility of their situation."
I tried to process this, but it felt like trying to hold water in my hands. My father had a name. A real name, not just the phantom I had imagined all these years.
"When your mother became pregnant," Aytara continued, "Sayven tried to convince her to come here, to safety.
But she was terrified of leaving everything she knew, afraid of how our people might treat an Imperial.
They compromised—they would move to a Talfen settlement near the border, somewhere they could raise their children in relative safety. "
"Children," I whispered. "Plural."
"Twins," Aytara confirmed. "Born within minutes of each other. For the first few years, you lived together as a family. Sayven would visit when he could, bringing supplies and news from the war front."
I tried to remember, searched my earliest memories for any trace of this other life. There were fragments—a man's voice singing lullabies, strong hands lifting me up, the sense of not being alone. I had always assumed these were fantasies, the desperate imaginings of a child who wanted a father.
"What changed?" Sirrax asked.
“Taveth started manifesting shadow magic.
At age five, it became obvious that he had inherited your father's abilities.
The Empire was hunting down anyone with shadow magic," Aytara said.
"Killing them, their families, anyone suspected of harbouring them.
Sayven had no choice but to bring Taveth here, to the safety of the hidden city. "
"But why didn't they bring me too?" The question tore out of me before I could stop it. "Why was I left behind?"
"Because you showed no signs of the magic," Aytara said gently. "And because your mother refused to leave. She was too afraid, too attached to the life she knew. The plan was for it to be temporary—Sayven would take Taveth to safety, then return for you and your mother once things settled."
"But things never settled," Taveth said.
"No," Aytara said quietly. "They didn't. And then..." She paused, as if the next words were difficult to say. "Then your father succumbed to the shadow madness."
"What do you mean?" I asked, though part of me already knew I didn't want the answer.
"The shadow magic consumes us," Taveth said, his voice matter-of-fact in a way that somehow made it worse.
"Slowly, inevitably, it burns away everything that makes us human.
Some last longer than others, but in the end, we all fall to madness.
Our father lasted longer than most, but when he finally broke. .."
He trailed off, but I could see the pain in his pale eyes. This was personal for him, raw.
"He's alive?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
"Yes," Aytara said. "In the care chambers below, with the other martyrs who have given their minds to protect our people. When it happened, when he... snapped... I went to your mother. To bring her the news, to see if she and you wanted to come here for protection."
"But she refused," I said, understanding beginning to dawn.
"More than that," Aytara said sadly. "She was terrified. Terrified of the magic, of what Sayven had become, of what it might mean for you. And I... I told her he was dead. I thought it was kinder than the truth."
So my mother had grieved for a man who was still alive, locked away in madness beneath the very place where I now sat. She had raised me believing my father was a hero who died protecting us, when the reality was far more complicated and terrible.
"Can I see him?" I asked.
"Perhaps," Aytara said. "But you must understand—there is nothing left of the good, honourable man he once was. What remains is consumed by darkness and rage. He loved your mother desperately, loved both of you, but that man is gone."
I looked at Taveth, this brother I had never known existed, and saw my own grief reflected in his pale eyes. We had both lost our father, in different ways and at different times, but the loss was shared between us.
"How long has he been..." I couldn't finish the question.
"Eight years," Taveth answered, his voice hollow. "Eight years since the madness took him completely."
"He had been fighting the madness for decades, longer than anyone expected,” said Aytara. “But when it finally claimed him..." She shuddered slightly. "It was violent. Sudden. He killed seventeen of our people before we could contain him."
I felt sick. The father I had dreamed of, the heroic figure my mother had described in her stories, had become a monster who murdered his own people. And somewhere below us, in those care chambers I had heard whispers about, he still existed in whatever form the shadow magic had left him.
"Does he remember us?" Taveth asked quietly. "Does he know who he was?"
"Sometimes," Aytara said. "The madness comes in waves. There are moments when glimpses of Sayven surface, when he remembers fragments of his old life. But those moments are rare, and they're becoming rarer."
I looked over at Taveth, still struggling to process everything.
"We both lost him," I said quietly, the words feeling strange on my tongue. To have a brother, to discover this connection that should have shaped my entire life—it was overwhelming in ways I couldn't begin to process.
Taveth nodded, and for a moment the shadows around him stilled completely.
In that brief respite from the darkness that seemed to follow him everywhere, I caught a glimpse of the man he might have been without the curse of his magic.
The resemblance between us was even more striking when his face wasn't twisted with supernatural fury or lust.
"I dreamed about you," I said suddenly, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "I saw you with Livia. I thought it was just my fears, but it was real, wasn't it? There was a connection, because of the mate bond, but it was stronger, because we’re twins.”
Taveth nodded slowly. “That would explain it. I felt a presence that night, I felt… I cannot explain… like she and I were already one, already mated. It was what pushed me to claim her. But it was your mate bond I felt, not ours. I was wrong. But she is still my mate, and I will not give her up.”
"She's our mate too," Sirrax said, his voice carrying quiet steel. "We're bonded to her. Have been for months."
Something flickered across Taveth's face—surprise, calculation, maybe even recognition. "I can see that," he said slowly. "I can see how devoted you both are to her, how you would die to protect her."
"Then let us see her," I said. "Let us know she's truly safe."
Taveth was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Someone will need to care for her when I lose myself to the darkness."
The casual way he said it, as if his own destruction was already decided, hit me like a physical blow. "What do you mean?"
"The same madness that claimed our father will claim me," Taveth said. "Soon. The magic is burning through me faster than usual because..." He glanced at me, then away. "Because strong emotions accelerate the process."
"How soon?" I demanded.
"Months. Maybe less."
I stared at him, this brother I had just discovered, and felt my world crumble all over again. "There has to be a cure. Some way to stop it."
"The temple elders have been searching for centuries," Taveth said. "If such a thing exists, we have not found it."
The unfairness of it crashed over me like a wave. To find family, real family, only to learn I was going to lose him almost immediately—it was too cruel to bear.
Without thinking, I stood and crossed the space between us. Taveth's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't move away when I pulled him into an embrace. For a moment, he was stiff against me, uncertain, but then his arms came up to return the hug.
He felt solid, real, warm despite the coolness that seemed to emanate from his shadow magic. This was my brother. My twin. The missing piece I had never known I was searching for.
"I will share her with you," Taveth said quietly, his voice muffled against my shoulder. "As brother-mates. She will need protection when I am gone, and I can see that you love her truly."
It should have been a victory. Permission to be with Livia, to claim her openly instead of fighting for her in shadows. But all I could think about was the cost—losing a brother I had only just found.
"There has to be another way," I said desperately. "Some treatment, some way to slow the process—"
"There isn't." Taveth's voice was final, accepting. "This is the fate of all shadow mages. We burn bright and brief, and then we are gone."
Malachar cleared his throat, drawing our attention back to the wider council. "This is... unprecedented," he said. "We will need time to discuss the implications."
"Sirrax will be returned to his quarters for now," Aytara said, her voice carrying clear authority. "Tarshi, your status here has obviously changed with these revelations."
As guards moved to escort Sirrax away, he looked directly at Taveth. "Treat her well," he said simply. "She has been through enough."
After Sirrax was led away, I turned back to my brother. The council was already beginning to disperse, their voices low with discussion about what they had witnessed.
"Will you take me to see her?" I asked.