CHAPTER THIRTY #2
I missed the rough warmth of his mouth against my neck. I missed the way he breathed—steady and grounding—like the world couldn’t possibly end while he was beside me.
My chest tightened. I rolled onto my side and buried my face deeper into the pillow.
Gods, get a grip.
A quiet presence settled beside the mattress. I cracked one eye open. Aether’s massive golden eyes stared straight back at me. His huge head was level with the bed, whiskers twitching slightly, as if he’d been standing there silently evaluating my life choices for several minutes.
“What?” I muttered, my voice muffled by the pillow.
His ears flicked. “I merely wished to confirm you were not dying,” he said stiffly through the bond.
I huffed out a weak laugh. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t look convinced.
The silence stretched between us, heavier than usual. He'd been quiet all day. Too quiet. Because Zya was gone too. Asher's absence had hollowed something out between us, and somewhere beyond it was the faint impression of another missing presence. Another thread that should have been there.
I shifted over, making room beside me, and lifted my arm in invitation.
“Well?”
He rolled his eyes. “You know,” he replied dryly, “you are allowed to verbally request comfort like a functioning adult.”
“I am requesting,” I murmured, already half-melting into the sheets.
He sighed like this was the greatest burden he’d ever carried, then jumped onto the bed anyway.
The mattress dipped heavily beneath his massive weight as he turned twice—precise and particular—before collapsing beside me with a low grunt.
His heavy head flopped across my outstretched arm. I curled my other arm into his fur, pressing my face against the warm silk of his coat.
A deep purr began to rumble through him, a low-frequency thrum that vibrated straight into my bones.
Something inside me finally unclenched.
“I missed this,” I whispered.
“Do not make a habit of it,” he murmured, though he didn't pull away.
I smiled faintly into his coat.
He might look like a divine weapon, might threaten to eat half the Academy before breakfast, and might act like the moodiest creature ever born. But truly? He was just a giant, dramatic baby.
And right now… he was hurting just as much as I was. I tightened my hold on him, and for once, he didn’t complain.
···
At first, there was only light.
It stretched endlessly in every direction—white, glowing, and deeply wrong in a way I couldn’t explain. It wasn’t warmth. It wasn’t safety.
It felt like standing inside a memory that had never belonged to me.
Still, my feet moved. Bare against the smooth, crystalline floor.
Silk whispered around my legs.
I glanced down and realized I was dressed in a gown the color of moonlight, the fabric spilling in soft waves that shimmered faintly, as if threaded with starlight instead of gold.
A wedding gown.
Unease twisted low in my stomach, cold and jagged.
Music drifted through the brightness—sacred, ancient, echoing like a hymn sung long before kingdoms were born.
Aether walked beside me, silent and enormous, his obsidian coat stark against the endless white.
His golden eyes were alert, tracking the shimmer of the void. On my other side, my father guided me forward, his hand resting lightly but firmly around my wrist.
He looked proud. Truly proud. As if this moment was the culmination of every cold calculation he had ever made.
Ahead, an altar rose from the glowing floor—white stone veined with silver, framed by towering columns that spiraled into a sky I couldn't see. Strange banners floated weightlessly in the air, marked with symbols I didn’t recognize but that felt older than the gods themselves.
I didn’t know where we were.
But I knew it mattered.
Then I saw him.
Asher stood waiting.
He was dressed entirely in black that seemed to drink the light around him. Shadows curled lazily at his boots, whispering along his shoulders like living silk.
The moment his silver eyes found mine, something inside his face broke open.
Relief. Raw and unguarded.
Tears were already sliding down his cheeks. Not from pain. From joy.
My heart surged so hard it hurt.
He took a step forward, like he couldn’t stop himself. Like he had been waiting his whole life for this single moment.
Behind him stood Jules.
She looked calm. Serene. She was wrapped in ceremonial robes, her curls pinned neatly away from her face, her expression gentle and steady. Seeing her sent a rush of happiness crashing through me.
Jules. Thank the gods.
But even as the thought formed, something twisted in the back of my mind. A splinter of reality.
There was something I was supposed to remember. Something important.
Something important. Something… wrong.
The ceremony began.
Words flowed around me like water. I didn’t hear them. I didn’t feel myself breathe.
All I saw was Asher—the rise and fall of his chest, the way his gaze never left mine, the silver of his eyes promising me the world.
Then, his body jerked.
A dark stain spread slowly across the front of his shirt.
Then violently.
Blood.
My scream tore out of me before I even realized I was making a sound.
“Asher!”
His eyes widened—shock flashing through the silver. Pain. Confusion. And then something a thousand times worse.
Betrayal.
He dropped to his knees.
Shadows exploded outward from him, writhing across the white stone like wounded, living things.
His hands clawed weakly at his chest as more blood poured between his fingers, staining the starlight of my dress.
I stumbled forward, reaching for him—but my father’s hand clamped around my wrist.
Hard. Too hard.
I gasped, looking down at the sudden weight in my hand.
Something heavy had appeared in my grip. A sword.
I hadn’t felt it before.
I hadn’t seen it.
But now it was there—the blade gleaming pale and unfamiliar, the hilt carved from twisted dark wood that looked grown instead of forged.
My breath hitched. The steel was slick. Red. Covered in blood.
His blood.
My hands began to shake so hard the blade rattled.
“No…” I whispered, the word a broken sob.
Asher was staring at me now. Not in anger. Not in hatred. In devastation.
As if I was the one who had finally succeeded in breaking him beyond repair.
Behind me, I felt my father lean closer, his breath cold against my ear. I could feel his smile without even turning.
“You must always be afraid of the dark, Ava,” he murmured softly.
The world split apart.