Chapter 25 #3
Kaelioth stretched, his joints murmuring like wind-worn branches. His gaze swept over them, ancient, but heavy with the quiet weight of one who had watched fate fracture and reform more times than the gods could endure.
"Come," he said, his voice low. "The spirits have spoken. The Hollow returned what was taken. Now we honor them, and her." He gestured toward the winding path below. "The pack awaits. Let them celebrate their queen."
Stephan stepped forward, instinct drawing him toward Eris’s hand, but before he could reach her, Kaelioth’s gnarled fingers closed around his arm.
"Ah, Prince." A flicker of mischief lit the old man’s eyes. "An elder requires steady hands. Walk with me."
Stephan paused. Kaelioth did not need help. This was intentional. He looked ahead as Eris walked beside Kareon. Their ease felt too natural, too familiar. Kareon leaned in and murmured something low. Eris laughed, light and unburdened, the sound striking Stephan in the chest.
His entire body tensed. Every instinct urged him to close the space, to reach for her again, but he did not move. A Dragov prince never denied an elder. Not even when it hurt.
He exhaled slowly and forced his muscles to still. Kaelioth’s grip relaxed, but he did not let go. Together, they walked in quiet cadence, their pace unhurried, allowing Eris and Kareon to move ahead.
Only when their voices had faded into the wind did Kaelioth speak again. "You are unsettled."
Stephan’s jaw locked with restraint. "I have reason to be."
Kaelioth hummed. “What do you fear?”
Stephan gave no answer.
Kaelioth sighed, a sound old as bone. “Eris was never meant to belong to one world, young prince.”
Stephan turned, sharp. “She belongs to me.”
Kaelioth smiled, not with amusement, but understanding. “And still, you fear losing her to what you cannot command.”
Stephan’s fingers twitched toward his sword. “I will not lose her.”
“Will you not?” Kaelioth’s amber gaze did not flinch. “She loves you. Has walked beside you since childhood. But she is more than that. She is storm. Earth’s pulse. The night’s howl no man can claim. And that part, you will never own.”
Stephan went still. Kaelioth did not. He walked on, tugging Stephan forward. “Do you think the spirits bind souls by accident?”
Stephan said nothing. He already knew what Kaelioth would say, and dreaded hearing it aloud.
Kaelioth looked ahead, toward Kareon walking beside Eris like breath itself. “He speaks to something in her that even you do not understand. He is not her choice. But he is her mirror. Break what the spirits bound, and you risk repeating Seraphina’s fate.”
Stephan’s breath caught. A woman of two worlds. A love that tried to own her. A destiny soaked in blood.
“Do not turn your love into the next tragedy,” Kaelioth said.
Stephan inhaled, hands curled. The old man’s words cut deep. The thought of becoming like Kriponius made him sick. He had sworn to protect Eris, and by the gods, he would not let history repeat itself.
Kaelioth exhaled slowly. “She does not love one more, Prince. She loves differently.”
Stephan looked ahead. Eris moved through the night like something half-myth, while Kareon watched her as if the moon had been carved from her bones.
Kaelioth’s voice softened. “You are her heart. Her soul. Her home.” He paused. “Kareon is her wildness—her ancestral bond to the divine.”
Stephan’s chest tightened. Truth pressed against his ribs, unwelcome, as fear rose. One day, she would wake with wind in her veins, and he might not be enough.
Kaelioth sensed that silent ache. “She chose you. She will not leave. But she also needs him. Not for love. For truth. With you, she is held. With him, she is free. And only free can she become what she was born to be.”
Stephan exhaled. The words pierced deep but revealed nothing he didn’t already know.
He had always known Eris would never belong to him wholly.
The thought should have broken him, but instead it carved a strange, sacred hollow in his chest. Better to have a share of her than none at all.
Better to bleed at her side than watch fate rip her away.
His gaze slid to Kareon, lingering a moment too long.
Two men. One woman. Both willing to bleed.
Not to possess her, but to protect her. For the first time, Stephan saw more than a rival.
He saw a brother in arms against a world that would see them broken.
Condemned to the same ache. Honored to stand beside something divine.
His jaw tightened, then eased.
Kaelioth watched him. “The spirits bless you both. Guard her well. She is light, and the dark is coming.”
Stephan swallowed. He would die before the darkness touched her. So would Kareon.
His hands unclenched. "I will," he said. The vow was quiet and final.
Kaelioth nodded, satisfied.
Night thinned toward dawn as laughter rose beneath stars reluctant to fade. The scent of roasted game lingered, drums pounding, primal. Alive. The Lycans feasted, their songs lifting with war, moonlight, and her name.
Eris. Their queen.
Stephan sat beside her, a carved wooden cup in hand. Present, yet distant. He had once fought these people. Their blades had crossed his. He was raised to see them as beasts. Now they welcomed him without hesitation because they loved her. Not as a symbol, but as kin.
It unraveled him.
His world had tried to make her feel like a mistake. This one called her sacred.
She laughed as Varis pulled her into a mock headlock.
Smiled as elders pressed charms into her hands.
She belonged, and it cut him. Her birthright had tried to burn her out.
This world let her burn bright and called it holy.
They did not fear her fire. They fed it.
And Stephan saw the truth. It was not enough to love her.
He had to build a world worthy of her. A world where she no longer chose between power and belonging.
Where Lycans were not enemies, and Eris no longer fought for space to exist. He would burn the old world to ash, and from its ruin, he would raise a kingdom where she could be whole, without apology.
She turned to him, eyes soft with something deep. Gratitude. Because he had stayed. Because he had brought her to Kaelioth and broke bread with those he once called enemies. It meant everything.
And as dawn broke, violet and gold spilling across the sky, she brushed her hand against his.
It was time to go. The castle waited, its halls heavy with blood and memory.
Raphael’s reckoning had only just begun.