Chapter Twenty-Four
The downfall of the kingdoms, in the end, will be due to their own blindness.
Tabitha Wysteria
Ash walked the halls of the keep in silence, his footsteps echoing softly as his mind drifted to another time, another life.
He could almost see Hagan chasing him along drakonian corridors, laughter sharp and breathless, hands closing around his shoulders, fingers tugging playfully at his drakonian horns.
The memory ached with warmth and regret.
Ash wondered where Hagan was now, whether his thoughts ever strayed back to him as well.
He wondered if there might come a day when they could sit together, unburden their pasts, and learn the slow, difficult art of forgiveness.
He paused beneath an archway that opened out onto the beach below, the sea restless and grey beneath the sky.
Mal was gone again—vanished into her realm, as she so often did now, slipping further from the world he could touch.
Queen Senka remained in her chambers, murmuring fractured words to herself, lost to whatever ghosts plagued her mind.
And Morthos… Morthos was with his beasts, as always, finding solace where the rest of them could not.
Ash descended to the shore, boots sinking into the black sand as he came to a halt at the water’s edge.
The sea writhed before him, dark and violent, waves gnashing against one another as if hungry.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered whether anything would change if he stepped into it, if he let the cold drag him under and claimed him as its own.
Probably not. Their paths had long since been written, whether by his own hand or by cruel, meddling gods. He was no longer certain which.
A small, weary smile touched his lips when Thanatos appeared some distance away, also gazing out at the restless waters.
They did not speak at first. Instead, they stood side by side in silence, watching the sea rage and breathe, two figures bound by threads far deeper than most could ever comprehend. The quiet between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable, an understanding that needed no words.
Eventually, Thanatos exhaled softly and moved closer, stopping a few feet from Ash’s side.
It struck Ash then how alike they looked, especially now that he wore black wyverian garments. The same sharp lines, the same shadowed gaze—two faces shaped from the same mould of darkness and light. To an unknowing eye, they could have been mistaken for twins.
‘You n-need to stop vi-visiting,’ Ash said at last, his attention fixed stubbornly on the churning water rather than on Death beside him. ‘Mal will find out, and she will not for-forgive us for this.’
‘We do what we must,’ Thanatos replied quietly, ‘to keep her and the child safe.’
Ash let out a dry snort. ‘Yes. Though one of us f-fights for the child, whilst the other f-fights for her.’
Thanatos exhaled, something weary and old settling into his expression. ‘You are cursed to love her, Ash Acheron. But I loved her from the very beginning. No curse shaped my heart. No curse twisted it into place.’
Ash inclined his head slightly, still watching the sea tear itself apart.
‘I do not trust you,’ Thanatos continued. ‘But I will see this plan through. For Melinoe’s safety.’ His eyes flicked briefly towards Ash. ‘From you. And from the child.’
Ash’s mouth curved into a humourless smile. ‘Probably wise.’
There was a pause, and when Thanatos spoke again, his voice had softened, stripped of its usual edge, almost childlike in its uncertainty. ‘She doesn’t know, does she?’
Ash understood at once what he meant. He also understood the fear beneath the question: Mal’s fury, her sense of betrayal, the weight of yet another truth withheld.
‘No,’ Ash said. ‘She doesn’t know why we look the s-same.’
Thanatos nodded slowly, dark eyes thoughtful.
‘But she will,’ Ash added, finally turning to face him. Gold met shadow, fire meeting the void. ‘Eventually. By then… it won’t ma-matter.’
‘It will always matter,’ Thanatos replied sharply, the softness vanishing from his voice as quickly as it had appeared.
The sea roared on, uncaring, as if it had already heard this truth before.
Ash crouched, sliding his hand beneath the sand.
How alien it felt compared to his own homeland, where the grains were pale and soft beneath endless light.
Here, the sand was dark, cold, heavy with salt and shadow.
And yet, he did not miss his home. He was already in it.
Wherever Mal stood, wherever their child breathed, that was where he belonged. Always.
‘We must find a way to protect them both,’ Thanatos said quietly, ‘from each other.’
‘I’m trying,’ Ash replied, letting the wet sand slip through his fingers in a slow, futile stream. He sensed Thanatos step closer, felt the shift in the air. ‘It’s not s-so simple.’
‘Our child will—’
‘She is not yours,’ Ash cut in sharply.
The edge in his voice seemed to strike Death itself. Thanatos stilled for a heartbeat before recovering, a crooked, unsettling smile curving his lips, one Ash did not like in the slightest.
‘Is she not?’ Thanatos teased.
Ash rose to his feet, the last of the sand falling uselessly from his hand as he turned to face him. ‘No. She is my child. Mal’s child. Not yours.’
Thanatos chuckled, low and amused, as the sea roared on behind them, indifferent to claims of blood and fate alike.
‘But I am you, and you are me,’ Thanatos said, his dark eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. ‘We are the same, Ash Acheron.’
Ash did not stop to think. Instinct overtook reason as he lunged, fury propelling him forward, but the damned demon only laughed. In the blink of an eye, Thanatos was swallowed by the sand itself, dragged down as though the earth had opened its jaws just for him, leaving nothing behind but silence.
Ash staggered back, breath tearing from his chest. With a roar that scraped his throat raw, he drove his fist into the sand, striking it again and again as rage flooded his veins, hot and blinding.
Because this time, it was not merely anger that consumed him.
It was the truth.