15. Chapter 15 - Matt #4
The bond pulsed violently between them, strong enough that Matt felt Theron’s control beginning to fracture around the edges.
Fear surged through the bond, followed by something far more dangerous. Hope. Buried so deeply Theron no longer seemed to recognize it.
The throne chamber shook again beneath their feet.
Then the First King laughed.
***
The First King’s laughter rolled through the throne chamber, deep enough to vibrate through the bridges.
Every corrupted creature in the room dropped lower. Not fear. Submission.
The thing standing on the bridge below them bowed its ruined head so deeply its claws scraped against the stone. Around the chamber, more shapes emerged from the abyss walls and broken passageways, gathering silently beneath the throne platform while the mountain trembled around them.
Ready for his command.
Matt stepped closer to Theron automatically.
The bond pulsed sharply again the instant their shoulders brushed, and this time the reaction spread beyond the two of them.
The chains surrounding the throne screamed violently against the stone while the red glow beneath the abyss flickered erratically, as though something deep below had suddenly lost rhythm.
The reaction rippled through the chamber. Every corrupted wolf froze where it stood. Several staggered as though the pulse had struck them physically, their heads jerking toward the throne before they regained their footing. Even the breathing rising from the abyss faltered for a single heartbeat.
Matt felt it through the bond before anyone else seemed to understand what had happened.
He understood the reaction through the bond before anyone else did.
Each time he and Theron chose one another over fear, duty, and everything the mountain expected of them, something inside the prison lost its rhythm.
The First King did not control the bond.
He hated it.
The First King’s laughter faded, and an unnatural silence settled across the throne chamber.
Even the mountain seemed to pause around them.
Then the voice came again, no longer buried inside whispers or echoing through the stone.
It filled the chamber itself with enough force to vibrate through the bridges beneath their feet.
The First King’s attention settled on Matt. “You should not exist.”
Every wolf in the chamber froze.
Theron staggered and caught himself against the black stone railing, one hand gripping it while his breathing turned dangerously uneven.
“Theron.” Matt grabbed his arm.
The moment Matt touched him, the bond erupted violently between them.
Images crashed through his mind with enough force to steal his breath. He saw Theron younger, or perhaps an ancestor wearing his face, kneeling in a throne room drowned in blood. Matt never saw the figure’s face clearly, but the presence alone felt vast enough to crush the air from his lungs.
And beneath every image came the emotion tied to it.
Shame so deep and relentless it felt endless.
Matt nearly lost his balance from the force of it.
Theron jerked sharply away from him a second later, breathing hard now as though the memories themselves caused physical pain.
The First King laughed again. His attention shifted toward Theron. “You carry his weakness.”
The throne platform shuddered violently. Another chain snapped.
This time the entire bridge network dipped several feet lower toward the abyss as ancient supports groaned beneath the strain. Several agents lost footing entirely before Vale shouted for everyone to fall back from the edges. Matt barely heard her.
His attention remained locked on Theron. Because something was wrong.
The bond no longer felt merely emotional now. It felt crowded, strained by another presence forcing itself against the connection from somewhere below the throne.
The First King. Trying to reach through Theron.
Theron straightened, his face settling back into that controlled stillness Matt had come to recognize as dangerous. To anyone else he probably looked calm again, disciplined and unreadable beneath the shaking red light of the throne chamber.
But the bond told a different story.
Through the bond, Matt felt what Theron concealed from everyone else. Theron did not fear dying here. He feared becoming the thing beneath the mountain.
Then the First King spoke again, and the force of his voice shook the chamber around them. “You belong to me.”
Theron closed his eyes.
For one terrible second, Matt thought he might answer.
Then Theron spoke so only Matt heard him. “I hear him more clearly now than I hear myself.”
Cold swept through Matt.
Another pulse surged upward through the abyss beneath them. The red glow brightened violently as something enormous shifted below the throne platform.
The King was no longer trying to escape. He was trying to reclaim his bloodline.
Theron opened his eyes, and something inside them no longer looked entirely his. The gold had deepened into something older and far more dangerous, reflecting the red light rising from the abyss like molten metal beneath stone.