CHAPTER 83
The cave flickered dimly with the last breath of firelight, shadows dancing across the rough walls like silent phantoms. Outside, the forest still whispered with danger, but for now, the three of them were safe—at least in body.
Velthira lay curled beside the fire, wrapped in layers of tattered cloaks and silence. Her breathing was slow, even. The exhaustion had taken her completely.
Zeviel sat a short distance away, but his gaze never left her sleeping form. Dirt and dried blood still clung to her cheeks, and though her face was calm in slumber, he knew how shattered she was inside.
He turned when he heard footsteps behind him.
Phoebeus Kaestel, still cloaked and unreadable, stood near the entrance of the cave—watching the dark beyond, as if he could hear the corrupted stars breathing.
Zeviel approached him, quiet in his steps, his voice hushed with tension, trying not to disturb Velthira from her sleeping.
Phoebeus didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the forest for a few seconds longer before finally turning his head to Zeviel. There was something ancient behind his eyes—like a man who had seen lifetimes pass.
Zeviel blinked, stunned. “Wait.. gods?” he whispered. “I thought the constellations were the highest. That they were the divine.”
Zeviel’s jaw clenched. He looked back at Velthira.
Phoebeus nodded slowly. “It’s not merely power. It is the origin. Auctoritas was not created—it was discovered. And only in rare, cursed bloodlines does it take root. Velthira bears it—a raw, unrefined authority that can bend the rules written in the stars.”
He paused, then looked back at Zeviel.
Zeviel was silent.
His fingers curled into fists, and he looked again at Velthira. She stirred faintly in her sleep, unaware of the storm circling above her head.
For a while, the cave was quiet again.
But the stars outside kept pulsing.
Watching and waiting.
And Velthira—still breathing—remained the spark that could set the skies ablaze.
It was supposed to be a moment of peace—just for a day. Velthira had fallen asleep curled beside the fire, her sword leaning against the cave wall, Zeviel's cloak wrapped around her shoulders.
But on a strange day, when she awoke, only one person remained.
He sat cross-legged against the cave wall, book in hand, fingers lazily flipping a page.
Velthira blinked the sleep from her eyes and sat up. Cold air seeped into her bones, but something worse clawed at her chest.
Phoebeus didn’t even glance at her. “He left.”
Phoebeus licked his finger, turned another page. “Hmm… he said he’d protect you.”
The words hit harder than a dagger to the ribs.
Velthira’s voice rose in disbelief. “Did he just.. just send himself off to those motherfvcking stars?!” She stomped her foot on the ground, aura trembling around her, eyes frantic.
She reached out with her mana, searched for his presence, but she felt nothing.
Days passed.
She waited for him, hoping he would come back immediately. But he didn’t. She cursed the sky and tried to busied herself by training, but there were no nights that she still wept.
And then… one night, the cave door creaked open.
She smelled him first—blood, smoke, the faint trace of his cologne.
Velthira spun on her heel, heart thudding.
A figure appeared—drenched, bloodied, barely standing.
He stumbled in, water dripping from his hair, his robes torn and splattered in dried blood. A gash ran down the side of his neck. He didn’t have a sword, just a look of weariness and something else. Relief or maybe guilt.
He dropped to one knee with a shaky breath.
Velthira ran to him, arms trembling as she caught his weight.
Zeviel didn’t meet her gaze. He tried to smile but it faltered. “You’re still beautiful… when you’re mad.”
His hand gently reached up and brushed her tear-soaked cheek.
There was silence. Her hands clenched the fabric of his cloak.
Then her voice dropped to a whisper.
‘Why did you think it’s a path without you? Why did you even marry me?’
He finally looked at her.
She tried to pull away, but he held her wrist gently.
He gave a broken smile. “And miss the chance to almost die alone? Never.”
She punched his shoulder.
He winced.
Then she pulled him into a tighter embrace.
Outside, the storm began to settle—but the quiet that followed wasn’t peace.
It was the calm before another war.
Their embrace barely lasted a heartbeat longer before a shiver crawled down Velthira’s spine.
A chilling pressure.
Zeviel felt it too. His eyes darted to the mouth of the cave.
Before Velthira could question him, an explosion shattered the stone entrance. Debris flew. Magic crackled in the air, sharp and electric. They were surrounded—figures cloaked in starlit robes, their eyes glowing with constellations carved into their irises.
The constellations had found them.
Zeviel immediately shoved Velthira behind him, drawing the short blade hidden beneath his cloak with one hand and conjuring protective aura with the other.
One of the constellation spirits floated forward—its form ethereal, godlike, haloed in distorted light. “Velthira Retamis. Surrender the fragment of Auctoritas.”
Velthira, stunned, asked, “W-What fragment?”
Zeviel didn’t give them time to answer. With a defiant shout, he dashed forward, blade drawn, aiming for the heart of the creature.
It smiled.
A second later, Zeviel’s body flew back, crashing into the cave wall with a sickening crack.
Velthira screamed.
Blood pooled beneath him, his breathing shallow.
And then his body went limp. He tried to move but he couldn't. He looked at Velthira and smiled.
‘If this face is the one I can see when I bid a goodbye to this world.. then.. it’s beautiful to die just like this..’
Her world cracked.
Something inside her shattered, and from the depths of her soul, a light erupted—blinding, violent, golden like sunfire.
Auctoritas awakened.
The power screamed across the skies. The constellation flinched, shielding its face as the stone walls split apart, the heavens tearing with radiant cracks. Symbols carved themselves into Velthira’s skin, into the air, into existence.
She rose.
And her eyes were no longer the same.
.............
Now in the Void Realm.
Sorayael blinked as Velthira nonchalantly sipped her tea.
They all sipped their tea in unison.
Time had slowed to a painful crawl.
A month had passed. Sorayael’s body lay still on the silk-covered bed. Her chest is unmoving, no heartbeat, no breath but she’s still warm. Too warm to be declared dead.
They couldn’t bury her in the hope that she would wake up and surprise them.
Everyone in the Manor was hoping for her return.. even if they didn’t know when..
On another day, Azren sat by her side like he did every day. He held her hand gently, brushing away dust from her cheeks. The room was always clean, always quiet—he made sure of that.
Azren never said goodbye properly.
The day he left the Academy, the sky was clear, the halls humming with idle chatter and footsteps. He walked away without looking back at her because he knew if he did, he wouldn't get a chance to leave again.
He remembered her face as she laughed with her friends by the garden wall, the way the sunlight hit her silver hair, and how her golden eyes would sometimes glance around—almost as if searching for him.
But he couldn’t afford to be seen.
Not with the shadows of the emperor watching.
And not when the Emperor had summoned him personally.
Azren was led to the heart of the Palace—the throne room veiled in enchantments and silence, where even breathing too loudly felt like treason. The Emperor sat still, regal and calculating. His eyes glinted not with warmth, but with suspicion.
The questioning came swift.
Azren didn’t falter. He uttered the lies he’d practiced a thousand times in his mind.
Azren tried to hide his expression, “She’s just a girl. Just another heir trying to prove herself.”
He buried the truth so deep inside himself it felt like it never existed.
But the Emperor wasn’t easily deceived.
He loomed from his throne, his presence suffocating. Dominance laced every word he spoke, crawling into Azren’s bones, testing him, daring him to slip.
The Emperor’s silence was worse than rage. And yet, Azren stood. With dignity. With defiance buried beneath his skin.
And he was dismissed.. but not pardoned. He was sent to the North to deal with the gates that were breaking there.
The Northern missions were endless.
Dungeon after dungeon. City after city. He was sent to places untouched by the sun, forced to fight beasts born from corrupted stars. He bled, broke, healed, and fought again—like a discarded weapon the Emperor kept hurling into war.
‘I’m tired.. I miss Feifei.’
Each time he returned to the capital to report, he was barely acknowledged. The Emperor never asked how he survived. He only asked about Sorayael. But Azren always lies to him, even when Azren sensed it.
Even when he felt the subtle shift in the flow of power—her power.
He never told anything, trying to hide Sorayael from the Emperor’s sight because he knows how greedy his father is.
Because if the Emperor knew, she’d be marked for death.
Two years passed.
By then, Azren was nothing more than a shadow stitched to the Emperor’s side. A weapon. A tool. A disposable failure waiting to be replaced.
But in the deep recesses of the palace, whispers traveled.
He overheard the scholars talking about summoning circles. About celestial maps. About constellations trembling in chains.
And then… her name.
He froze.
The Emperor was planning something far greater than war. Something divine.
He was going to use Dominance to summon the constellations by force and destroy the bearer of Auctoritas before her light could challenge his rule.
Azren’s blood ran cold.
‘Shit.. Feifei..!’
He tried to leave.
But the moment he took a step beyond the chamber doors, pain tore through his head like claws of fire.
Dominance.
It slammed into him without warning—engraving itself into the core of his spirit.
Chains of unseen magic bound his will. Not his limbs. Not his body. But his will.
He screamed without sound, falling to his knees as the Emperor appeared behind him like a phantom.
Azren trembled, not from fear but from helplessness.
The Emperor smiled.
And the last thing Azren remembered before the darkness took him—
Was her smile.
............
‘When I saw her face when I’m still under the emperor’s control, I felt the pain inside me. I wish I could protect her but I’m still powerless..’