CHAPTER NINE #4
Aether's tail lashed once in sharp agitation, the fur along his spine standing on end.
"You cannot be serious," Silas said quietly, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and terror. "A blood oath between heirs? In their first year? It hasn't been done in centuries!"
"It is not a bond between heirs," my father corrected coolly, his green eyes flashing. "It would be a pact between protector and flame."
My pulse hammered in my ears. Protector. He was actually considering this. He was going to let me stay, but the price was a tether I couldn't even begin to comprehend.
My father's gaze settled on me again, unyielding. "You will not leave the Academy," he said evenly. "Not if you are guarded by a soul-bound oath sworn in my presence."
My throat went dry, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thin to breathe. "Father—"
"This is your choice," he said, though his tone suggested the alternatives were nothing but illusions. "But understand this, Ava. If you remain here without this bond, I remove you tonight. You will return to Zymarra, and your training here ends."
The ultimatum struck like a hammer. Stay and bind your soul to a shadow, or leave and become the porcelain princess I so desperately feared being.
My father nodded once, as if a thought had finally hardened into an immutable decision.
"This year," he said, his voice carrying that unmistakable, bone-deep kingly authority, "all students—from first through third—will compete in the Aegos Trials."
Silas stiffened, his face draining of color. The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of what that meant—a total shift in the Academy's balance.
My pulse thudded. "And everyone," my father continued, his eyes locking onto mine, "will be coming for you, Ava."
The room felt smaller.
"The prize is no small honor. A guaranteed place in the Astral Guard."
The name alone carried weight. The strongest warriors on the continent. Elite. Untouchable.
"The ambitious," he said quietly, "will see you as their greatest threat." His jaw tightened. "Or their ticket to glory."
I swallowed hard, the implications sinking in like lead.
"You already have enemies," he went on, his voice turning colder.
"You have made waves without even trying.
Your power, your bloodline—your very presence disrupts the balance.
" His gaze sharpened. "There are nobles who would rather see you fall than rise.
And assassins who would consider you a challenge worthy of legend. "
My breath hitched. Beside me, Aether's claws scraped faintly against the polished stone, a restless, rhythmic sound.
"Heightened magic was not a coincidence," he said. "Whether it was reckless arrogance or calculated testing, someone pushed the limits in your presence." His expression remained carved from stone. "Which is precisely why this bond is necessary."
His eyes flicked briefly toward Asher. "He has already proven himself loyal. Proven he will protect you—before any oath was even demanded."
Silas ran a hand down his beard, still processing the sheer scale of the shift.
"The blood ceremony will take place tonight," my father said, turning toward him with absolute finality. "At the Temple of Ignis."
The words settled into the room like a decree written in flame. Tonight. My heart pounded so violently I thought they might actually hear it echoing off the marble.
The Temple of Ignis. Sacred fire.
I turned slowly toward Asher. He didn't look triumphant, and he didn't look smug. He looked ready. That terrified me more than anything else.
"You will choose each of two witnesses," my father continued, his voice edged like tempered steel. "It will be officiated by a human from the Tower. No exceptions."
My stomach twisted. Gods. This wasn't a proposal anymore; it was a royal decree. It would be sealed in divine flame and blood.
"Oh gods," I whispered, the gravity of it pulling at my lungs. "I can't believe this is happening."
"You are dismissed," my father said simply, as if he hadn't just rearranged the entire architecture of my life.
That was it. No more debate. No more negotiation.
We turned toward the door, my legs moving on pure instinct. Shadows flared faintly at my heels. My hands trembled at my sides, heat simmering just beneath my skin. Just as I reached the threshold—
"Ava."
I stopped and turned. My father stood differently now. Not as a king, not as a strategist, but as a man who had already buried one child and refused to bury another. His eyes met mine—green, like Jax's. They weren't unreadable anymore; they were just desperately restrained.
"Do not see this as a weakness," he said quietly. The words struck deeper than any command he'd ever given. "See it as a strategy." He paused. "You will not look like a frightened heir."
His voice softened—just enough to fracture something in my chest. "You will look like a queen who knows how to play the game." Then, with the weight of the gods behind him, he added, "Even Veyros tips the coin for those who dare."
Fire and fate. Choice and chance.
I held his gaze for one long, searing breath. Then, I nodded once.