Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
WOLFE
Pyrion landed a short distance away, her claws digging into the sand as her wings folded neatly against her body.
Shadowfane touched down beside us moments later.
Alaric climbed down first. I followed, and the two of us fell in step beside each other.
There was so much to say.
Years of searching had finally led us here. And the ring was finally in my grasp.
Fuck. I could even see it. Right there upon Jonathan Grayson’s hand as he held his daughter.
But like Alaric, my attention remained fixed on the moment—the reunion between a father and his daughter.
Right now, it mattered more than anything.
Even the Nyzith strands had held back.
"That’s a peaceful sight," Alaric spoke in a low voice and gave me a sidelong glance.
My heart warmed. “Indeed.”
Elariya clung to her father as though she feared letting go would somehow make him disappear again. It was understandable if that’s what she truly thought.
It had been almost six years since she’d seen him. Most had given him up for dead.
In my book, she could hug him for as long as she wanted.
She deserved every second of this moment. I wasn't about to take a single heartbeat of it away from her.
I would've given anything to have such a moment with my father.
Just to hear his voice.
All Alaric and I had left were memories. Memories of a kind, courageous father and the Nightblade family we used to be.
At least Elariya still had this. One of us had been given another chance.
Gently, Jonathan pulled away and took Elariya’s tear-streaked face in his hands. “My child. I cannot believe it’s you. How long has it been?”
Elariya’s breath stuttered. “Almost six years, Father. Almost six years.”
Jonathan looked visibly weaker. “Gods. I…” He could barely speak. “I missed so much. I wasn’t there.”
“We’re okay,” she croaked. “All of us. We just missed you so much it hurt. And we never gave up looking for you.”
He held her shoulders. “I missed you more. So, so much more.”
From the look of things, he was the only person here for miles. Apart from the birds and a few small animals, I couldn’t sense another heartbeat around. Elariya had told me he’d been riding a horse when he was taken through the vortex. There was no evidence that the horse was around anymore.
Alone.
Jonathan Grayson had been alone all that time.
He lifted his head and spotted us, then straightened.
Alaric and I moved then.
“The princes of Galaythia,” he muttered in a warm tone.
He and my father seemed to have been well acquainted, but we’d never met him. He must have taken up the post after Alaric and I began travelling with Father.
“Lord Grayson,” I said, extending a hand to greet him. “Pleasure to meet you.”
He shook my hand and offered a gentle smile. “You must be Wolfe.” He surmised, then glanced at Alaric. “And you Alaric.”
Alaric tipped his head. “My Lord.”
Elariya suddenly got this uneasy look on her face, and I realized why. I could also feel her nervousness through the bond. Her father was the only person in our circle who didn’t know we were married.
“Father.” She glanced at me before continuing. I nodded my approval. “Wolfe and I are married.”
Jonathan’s mouth fell open and he looked from me to her. Shock filled his bearded face, then comfort.
Usually, I didn’t care what people thought, but seeing the approval settle in his eyes meant everything to me.
“That’s… absolutely wonderful news. I’m so sorry I missed your union.”
“You’ll be around for more things,” I assured him.
He nodded then glanced down at his hand. The hand where the ring sat. “I have something for you. I kept a promise to my friend.”
He slid the ring off. The Nyzith strands reacted immediately, swirling through the air toward us.
With a kind smile, Jonathan held out the ring for me to take. I looked at it, really looked at it.
The ring sparkled. The red gem stone that lay in the center glowed.
The moment I put it on, I would become the king. The moment I’d been raised for my entire life.
I pulled in a deep breath and took the ring. When I slid it on my finger, the stone glowed brighter. The Nyzith strands danced above me, singing. It had been a while since I’d heard their vibrant melody.
We watched, captivated as the tune rose higher heavenward. Then, as one, they flowed right into the ring.
And that’s when the ancient magic that lay within awakened.
Warmth spread from the ring into my hand. Then it raced up my arm.
Gold light pulsed beneath the crimson gemstone, spilling through the engravings circling the band before racing across my skin. The markings flared briefly, then disappeared beneath the surface. The magic had become part of me, knitting through every fiber of my being.
A sharp breath caught in my throat.
The ring knew me. Had accepted me as the new king and its new guardian.
It was giving me its power and all the power that had been held by all the Nightblades and dragons over the ages.
And the curse… My Fae essence flared, healing and brightening. Restoring. The rot and influence of the curse peeled away, and the legion of deathly voices I’d always heard in the back of my mind silenced, no longer beckoning me to join the dead.
I felt whole. Mind, body, heart, essence, and soul.
But… something remained. The Deathwalker power, still fused to my being but fueled by essence instead of the cruel hand of death.
I knew in an instant this was what the Seer meant and I understood her words. She said I’d be surprised. I was.
The curse was no longer a curse. I knew this for certain in my heart.
It felt more like a… gift.
A strange gift of power that gave me another chance at new life.
The assurance settled over me at the same time the rippling magic calmed.
Everyone watched, taking it all in. The glow finally settled, leaving peace in my soul, a feeling I never thought I’d experience again.
It had been so, so long I forgot what peace felt like.
My last taste was well before my mother and Zyrra died.
Elariya was the first to step forward. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’m… Like I’m King of Galaythia.” I nodded, smiling. Her face brightened, her eyes filling with hope.
“And the curse?” Alaric looked me over.
“Is under my control.”
He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”
I flicked my palm over, summoning my Deathwalker magic to my hand. Skeletal fingers appeared within my shadows. Same power—no change there to the danger and damage I could wreak. But it felt different. Even the shadows flared differently. It drew from my own shadow magic.
The power didn’t rage uncontrollably with shadows that were always seeking vengeance. And it didn’t drain my Fae essence. There was harmony inside me.
An inner quiet that awaited my command instead of trying to take over and consume me.
I was different.
Now both darkness and light, the way day and night exist together at twilight.
Both Fae and Deathwalker. A being no one had ever seen before.
Cursed forevermore with a gift I never expected to have.
It hit me then. This was what the Deathless had been worried about. What I could become.
I’d gone past the limit when the ring could have broken the curse when I gave a hundred years of my life to save Elariya. That was the moment when I became more dangerous to the Deathless.
I retracted my powers, and my hand turned back to normal. I looked at each of them, my gaze settling on Jonathan. “Let’s go home. It’s time to go home.” He knew my words held a deeper meaning, especially for him.
For me…
I had to plan a war. But first, I needed to clear my name.
Now that I had the ring, I could.
My father used to say that receiving the ring was the most invigorating experience of his life.
He’d said it was as though he had become one with the land. That he and Galaythia shared the same heartbeat. The land, its magic, its forests, rivers, mountains, and skies were all a part of him.
At the time, I’d been intrigued. I loved the way he spoke about it. His loyalty to his kingdom was one of the things that had always endeared him to me.
But truthfully, I hadn't understood what he meant. Until today.
The instant we breached the barriers to Galaythia, I felt the difference in the air. Before, I’d sensed a disturbance in the magical currents. It happened the moment my father died, then the feeling festered. I thought I picked up on it because it was my responsibility to fix it.
Now the kingdom felt as right as I did.
And everything within responded to me. Answering my will regardless of laws, rites, or allegiance.
The gates to the Citadel opened for me before I’d even reached them.
I stepped onto the bridge, walking with confidence.
Beside me was my mate—my queen. Behind me, my Veythral and Kaem. The people who kept me going, standing by my side right from the beginning.
We’d left Jonathan with Sirril at Vyrenth Hollow and come straight here.
We could have portaled right into the Hall of Judgment, but I wanted to see this part. To witness. To experience it.
In the air, the harbingers that had been sent after me hovered, frozen.
They’d picked up on my essence the moment we arrived and swooped down ready to take me.
Then they recognized the authority that now flowed through me—the authority of the crown.
And there wasn’t a godsdamn thing they could do to me.
While anybody could be tried and dealt with by the Citadel regardless of rank and class, kings had a unique advantage.
A reigning monarch could answer charges, but until he surrendered himself or was stripped of sovereign protection by judgment, no harbinger or sentinel had the authority to lay hands on him.
Galaythia had been without a king for almost six years.
That absence had given them room to hunt me as a prince.
But I was not merely a prince anymore.
The Ring of the Kings sat upon my finger.
If they touched me now, they would cease to exist.
The guards at the gate were stunned when they saw the harbingers’ reaction, but they’d known from the instant they’d looked at me that I was their new king.