Chapter 53 #2
“Me? I was just suggesting a bath! You’re the one thinking dirty thoughts, Moe!”
“Right, right.” She shakes her head. “You’re the epitome of innocence and I am the bad influence.”
“Well, of course,” I reply smoothly. “I only need one look at you and I am immediately influenced. And then you also have the gall to smile at me and bat those pretty lashes and then you complain when I lift your skirt and—”
She quickly presses her hand over my mouth to shut me up.
“People can hear us,” she whispers.
“So? Then they can also hear you are mine and only mine.”
“You’re impossible, Nyk.”
“Am I?” I raise a brow. “You almost never used to wear skirts here, but after I bent you over that one time and had my way with you, you’ve been wearing them quite often.”
She reddens. “Well… It’s warm and… Uhm…”
I chuckle and kiss her nose. “If I’m impossible, you’re the sum of all possibilities for me.” I wink at her.
A loud siren blasts across the entire realm—a familiar sound.
Warriors freeze mid-step. Merchants fall silent. My stomach drops before the wraith even appears.
No. Not again.
Moe and I look at each other, horror mirrored in our expressions. Memories of the last Culling still haunt me. We were lucky then because Lis saved us. Now, without her… We are fucked.
Moe’s hand finds mine, and we both retreat to a secluded spot, ready to flee at any moment. I use my shadows to hide our presence should my name be called out.
As before, a wraith descends from the blood-red sky, robes twisting around his frame as he hovers above the marketplace. Then his amplified voice rolls across the realm.
“Attention, combatants of Aimaxion.”
The crowd gathers fast to await the orders of the realm. Their expressions are filled with hunger and excitement. The next marked target of Aimaxion might just be their ticket out of here—if they get to it first.
“The Culling Cycle has been—” The wraith starts, but he cannot finish his sentence. His mouth remains wide open, almost comically so. Seconds pass. Nothing happens. No sound escapes him. Even his body has been locked in place, simply unmoving.
A strange crackling noise tears through the air.
Every obelisk in sight begins flashing violently, their surfaces strobing black, crimson, white in frantic succession. Symbols and runes ripple over the stone too quickly to comprehend. Beneath our feet, the ground trembles.
“What the hell?” Moe whispers.
I squeeze her hand. “Get ready to run when I say so.”
The wraith convulses. His head jerks sharply to one side and his body begins to lose transparency.
Then, suddenly, he snaps back to full opacity.
“System… inter… ruption… detected…”
The crowd recoils, confusion erupting throughout it. Their voices reach our ears, and all of them are saying the same thing: this has never happened before.
The obelisk closest to us turns bright enough to burn spots across my vision.
Words carve themselves into its surface.
OVERRIDE AUTHORITY ACCEPTED
EXTRACTION PROTOCOL INITIATED
My blood turns to ice.
“What does that mean?” Moe whispers. Before I can answer, the sky splits open.
A jagged tear of white-gold light rips through the crimson heavens, widening with a sound as if the world itself is being torn apart.
Panic erupts throughout the square as warriors stumble backward, shouting and pointing upward.
Then the force hits.
It wraps around my body with brutal violence, stronger than any arena transition I have ever endured, and yanks me off my feet.
Moe screams. I hold onto her even as I’m being swallowed into the void.
Then, we’re falling.
I twist midair on instinct and pull Moe against my chest, turning so my body takes the brunt of the impact.
Agony explodes through my back and shoulders as I slam into the ground first, my palms scraping raw against the stone when I catch us before her face can hit it.
Moe lands atop me with a startled cry, shaken but spared the worst of the fall.
My entire body aches from the force of the transition, yet even through the disorientation I know it instantly.
This is not Aimaxion. The air is cooler. Cleaner. There are no dust particles around, no suffocating air or heavy gravity. The sky above is dark and natural, not crimson and cursed. All around us, I see vibrant foliage, flowers and trees. Everything that was absent in Aimaxion.
For one wild heartbeat, hope surges through me. Have we somehow…returned home? The mark on our wrists are gone, so maybe… maybe?
But then I look around, and all potential hope dies.
We are surrounded.
An entire army encircles us in perfect formation, ranks upon ranks of armored warriors stretching outward in every direction. Hundreds of them. Perhaps more. I can’t even see the end of them.
Their spears, blades, and artifacts are leveled directly at us, enough killing power gathered here to slaughter armies.
Their armor is black and crimson. Their banners bear a crest I know far too well.
House Jubal.
No!
No, no, no… This cannot be happening.
A path opens through the soldiers, and a commander steps forward in polished ceremonial armor, his cloak sweeping behind him.
My eyes widen. I know him.
I may not have seen him in years, but I still remember him.
Baine v’Kyro.
My brother.
For one disorienting second I can only stare, my mind refusing to reconcile the man before me with the brother who once smuggled sweets into my room, who brought me gifts from his campaigns, who was the only person in that cursed palace to treat me with decency.
He stands at the front of the formation in House Jubal warplate, black and crimson steel gleaming beneath the fractured light, his cloak stirring in the cold wind. He looks older, more weathered, if not by time than by experience. Every trace of warmth burned out of him by time and war.
And when his gaze settles on me.
There is recognition, but no softness—no reaction.
There’s only the detached composure of a man staring at a problem he has already decided how to solve.
“Nykander v’Kyro,” he says, his voice carrying across the forest with authority, “by order of the Lord Supreme, you are hereby charged with unlawful cultivation.”
“What’s happening, Nyk? Who is he?” She looks between the two of us, and I can see a flicker of recognition.
“My brother,” I say quietly.
We’ve been through so much in that cursed realm that my last concern was being found by my family. For so long, I barely spared them a thought.
And now… It seems I’ve moved from one hell to another. At least in Aimaxion, with its odd rules and regulations, I stood a chance. With the House of Jubal, I am guilty of simply being born.
Two things are clear as I stare at my estranged brother and the many warriors backing him.
This is, indeed, a decree signed by the Lord Supreme.
However, he’s given the House of Jubal full authority to deal with the issue as they see fit.
At most, the Lord Supreme might need to sign off on my execution.
My brother’s eyes remain fixed on mine.
“Any person on the registry is forbidden from ever cultivating. This is one of the highest offenses in the realm, and the Lord Supreme takes it very seriously,” he says in a measured tone.
“You are to be imprisoned in the Royal Dungeon pending a trial that the Lord Supreme himself will preside over.”
My eyes widen at that. If anything, I would have expected the Lord Supreme to relegate all duties to the House of Jubal. This is… interesting. And perhaps it might work in my favor in a way—if I can plead my case properly.
Moe’s hand is still in mine. Warm, soft, comforting. It might be the last time I hold it, and the mere thought of it makes me want to bawl my eyes out.
But this is neither the place nor the time. If there is one thing I can still do, it’s to ensure Moe is left alone.
“I will accept the decree,” I state aloud. “You may arrest me, but you must let her go. She is not involved.”
“Nyk, what are you—”
Baine spares her a glance, deems her unimportant and waves his hand to his soldiers to create a corridor for her to pass through.
Relief floods me. I give him a grateful nod before I turn to Moe.
“Please go now,” I tell her in a tight voice. “Leave while they are allowing it.”
Her eyes go wide with horror. “No.”
“Moe—”
“No.” She grips my hand harder, panic rising in her voice. “I’m not leaving you here with them.”
I step closer, lowering my voice so only she can hear. “Listen to me carefully. If you stay, I fight them. If I fight them, I die.”
Her face crumples. She knows exactly what I mean—what the outcome would be if we choose violence over submission. As much as it pains me to surrender to the House of Jubal, if it means Moe is safe, I will do it. I will kneel in front of them. As long as it’s for her, I will do it.
“You know what will happen,” I whisper. “You saw how many there are. You saw who leads them.”
Tears gather in her eyes. “Then I’ll stay and fight with you—”
“You will do no such thing.” My voice is sharper than intended, and I force myself to soften it. “Moe… if you stay, they will use you against me. If you leave, then I can endure whatever comes next knowing you are safe.”
Her lips tremble. “I can’t just abandon you.”
“You are not abandoning me.” I cup her face with both hands, memorizing the feel of her and wishing I could carve her contours in my bones. “You are surviving. For me.”
A tear slips down her cheek. She stifles a sob.
“I will find you again,” I promise, though I have no idea how I intend to keep that promise. “Do you understand? I will survive this. I will come back to you.”
“Nyk…”
“You trust me, don’t you?”
She gives the smallest, most shattered nod.
“Then go.”
For a moment I think she will refuse still. Then, with visible agony, she rises onto her toes and kisses me—hard, desperate, trembling.
When she pulls away, she presses her forehead to mine.
“I will find a way to help you,” she whispers. “I swear it.”
My throat closes as I do my best to maintain my composure and send her off with a proper memory of me—not a desperate, bawling mess.
“I know.”
She squeezes my hand one final time before letting go. And then she walks away.
I do not breathe until she vanishes past the line of soldiers and disappears into the trees.
She is safe. That’s all that matters.
I finally allow myself to breathe, my heart breaking with every second of separation.
“Chain him,” Baine orders.