Chapter 28
Rune
Rune sat upon the blackened throne, one hand resting loosely on the hilt of Noctharion, the other tapping pensively over the armrest as he regarded the mortal below.
The man wore battered silver armor, the white stag of Argyle scorched across his shield. Sweat darkened his hair at the temples, gleaming along his jaw. And yet, with hundreds of demons lining the galleries above, his gaze remained steady.
Karag D?r had alerted Rune of the intruder moments earlier, before Deimos dragged him in here. Hadeon stood at the base of the stairs, guarding the mortal as well as preventing the hundreds of demons that had gathered from getting too close.
Rune really didn’t have time for this.
The fate of his bride and his hinge on him breaking a Sleeping Curse. Now he had unleashed his bride’s magic, and the mystery of its source plagued his thoughts. He had thousands of things to contend with, yet he’d been dragged away from more dire matters to deal with this.
A mortal had wandered into his mountain.
Such inconsequential events were normally short-lived entertainment for his court. But the only thing that stayed his hand was Deimos informing him that this mortal was Alora’s friend.
Rune flicked a finger. “Who stands before me?”
“Caelum Basile, honorary knight from Ironvale,” the moral said evenly. His voice carried no tremor but conviction. “I have come for the princess. Release her to me, and I will trouble your territory no further.”
The demons watching laughed, a bloodthirsty tension tightening the air.
Rune’s mouth curled with amusement and disdain. “You dare come here and make demands of a god? I allowed you to cross my threshold alive so my wife would not mourn what is left of you. Should you wish to continue breathing, leave.”
Caelum’s throat bobbed, visible sweat beading on his brow. Rune could hear his heart racing like a frightened deer, yet the mortal still drew his blade and lifted his shield. “I cannot leave without her.”
All sound died.
Rune’s laugh carried through the quiet, and he leaned forward in his throne, shadows swarming. “Is that a challenge?”
The air shivered with anticipation, hungry for spectacle and his court laughed with him.
But Rune stilled at the sudden tug in his chest.
Alora.
Her consciousness brushed against his own, a wild, bright pulse that beat against his chest like a living drum. Worry, confusion, anger, they tangled together in his veins. He could feel her running through the halls, searching for him. Summoning him.
Then her voice blared in his head. Rune, where are you? Rune!
His claws dug faintly into the armrest, shocked that she was now speaking to him through their minds. Their bond… He smiled. It must at last be forming. The pull to go to her was instinctive, magnetic, demanding to find her.
He rose from the throne.
Don’t you dare hurt Caelum!
Rune froze mid-step. Her voice rang through his skull, clear as a bell and burning as sunlight.
For a heartbeat, he forgot the hall, the mortal, the hundreds of eyes watching him. He could hear her pulse, her breath, the raw force of her will binding itself to his through the invisible thread now sparking between their souls.
He had sensed it when she first woke. That fragile flicker of consciousness pressing against the walls of his mind, curious but distant. She hadn’t sought him then. Not when he wanted her to. Not when he needed her to.
She came to him now for the sake of another.
Ah.
So that’s what it took to make her call his name.
The thought hollowed him. Then it burned.
The realization split something in his chest he had not known could bleed.
Then it was buried beneath something primal, ancient. Like the Netherworld itself exhaled through him, and the air thickened around the throne. Every shadow in the room turned toward the knight.
Rune straightened slowly, the lines of his smile sharpening. The faint tremor that ran through the marble floor wasn’t entirely from his magic. It came from the effort it took not to eviscerate the mortal where he stood.
The air grew heavy. The scent of ash curled through the room. With a lazy flick of Rune’s hand, his shadows tore away Caelum’s weapons. The shield hit the floor across the throne room with a clang. His sword skidded across the marble, spinning end over end before vanishing into the shadows.
Rune descended the steps.
“Mortals,” he mused, voice tight. “They’re such amusing creatures. Always so willing to risk their lives for something that was never theirs to claim.”
Shadows crawled up the walls like wraiths, snuffing out the torches one by one.
Rune’s voice fractured into a thousand echoes, filling every corner of the chamber. “So, tell me, brave knight, did you come here to die?”
Darkness fell in the throne room, the only source of light coming from the currents of molten lava running through the chamber.
It cast an orange hue over Caelum’s face, and he smiled. “I came here to survive.” Then he spun around and shouted, “Nauthiz!”
The air shivered. The sword and shield screamed across the floor, dragged by invisible force. Sparks danced in its wake, the metal trembling like a living thing before it tore upward, landing in the knight’s waiting palm.
The word carried the weight of an old magic Rune had not witnessed since the dawn of the gods. A command carved into the bones of creation itself. For a heartbeat, his shadows recoiled as the sound of that word burned through them like a brand.
Rune’s voice deepened to a growl. “Where did you learn the old tongue?”
The knight didn’t answer. He steadied his grip, lifted the blade, and called out again, louder, fiercer, the syllables cutting through the air like sunlight through smoke. “Kenaz!”
A glyph flared to life along the sword’s hilt, glowing in the shape of a torch. White light burst from the metal, licking up the blade. It was bright, but not bright enough. The demons hissed at it angrily.
Rune raised a hand to shield his eyes, his skin smoking. His breath came sharp, caught between fury and disbelief. “You wield power not meant for mortal tongues,” he snarled. “Say those words again, and I will tear the tongue from your throat.”
The knight’s eyes glinted gold in the light. “You would not be the first to try.”
Darkness erupted out of Rune’s body, spiraling through the hall as his form blurred with smoke and ember. Black scales sprouted across his form as he rose as a dragon. His wings unfurled in a torrent of dark wind, stretching the length of the hall with a roar.
Caelum stiffened, but he didn’t retreat. That much Rune would acknowledge. He faced death head-on. Still, he gave him a chance to flee, a breath to reconsider. Yet the knight braced himself.
So be it.
Rune’s jaws split open, flame spiraling down his throat before bursting forward in a torrent of fire. It struck the knight’s shield, the impact flaring so bright that even demons flinched and turned their heads. The stag coat of arms warped under the flames.
But Caelum did not fall.
Through the blaze, Rune caught the flicker of symbols glowing along the shield’s edge. Fae script enchanting the shield to protect him with more ancient runes. It could only have one explication.
Lady Zinnia.
The Thornbearer must have sent the knight to rescue her goddaughter.
For all his mortal frailty, the knight fought like something born from prophecy.
Every time Rune lunged, the man’s blade blazed with that cursed light, cutting clean through shadow.
The dragon’s fangs could not reach him without searing his own flesh, and even disarmed, the mortal refused to yield, shouting those same infernal words that made the air tremble.
Rune’s restraint snapped.
His shadows surged like a living tide, ramming down the man’s throat, smothering the word before it could form.
He whipped his tail, striking Caelum with the force of a battering ram.
The knight hit the marble hard, sword clattering away.
He gagged on the ground, gasping for air.
Rune pinned him with one colossal claw, the stone beneath fracturing in a web of cracks.
Caelum’s scream tore through the hall as ribs broke, blood flecking his lips.
Rune leaned close, smoke curling from his nostrils. He had been aching to unleash his ire. You could not have arrived at a more opportune time.
But instead of fear, the knight smirked, coughing on his own blood. “You are right, demon. Timing truly is everything.”
The throne room doors slammed open with a bang like thunder. Blinding light poured in, cutting through the smoke. Demons shrieked, fleeing from the illumination.
The light swept away the surrounding shadows, burning them away, and for the first time in centuries, the throne room of Karag D?r gleamed bright as day.
“STOP!” Alora’s voice swept through the room, and every torch erupted in flame.
She stood in the doorway, hair unbound, blazing as bright as a star. The shadows rippled back from her as though dawn itself had breached the mountain.
Her gaze burned into him, white fire meeting the abyss.
She crossed the floor with measured grace, the train of her crimson gown trailing behind like spilled blood.
The crown of onyx and rubies he’d given her when she first arrived now rested on her head, gleaming like embers as her heels clicked sharply against the stone.
She looked like a true goddess of the night, and her fury struck him colder than any ray of sunlight. “Release him.”
Smoke curled around Rune’s jaw with his low growl. You would dare command me before my court?
“As queen, I have the right to lay claim over anything I desire.” She stopped at the base of his claws, lifting her chin to meet the dragon towering above her. Her eyes flashed with magic. “And today, I desire his life.”
So, her appearance was as intentional as her words.
The air trembled with her power. Even the demons bowed beneath it, their snarls dying into whimpers as the torches bent toward her light. His scales smoked where her radiance kissed them.
Seeing that, Alora exhaled a low breath, then the blaze in her palms dimmed. She’d summoned control by a hairsbreadth, light still flickering beneath her skin.
The hall had gone utterly still. The balconies were silent, the Dominions watching from above.
Rune idly glanced down at the knight still caught beneath his paw. It would take nothing to crush him completely. One grain of pressure and Caelum’s organs would decorate the marble.
Alora’s small hand brushed his scaled arm, eyes met his. And beneath the fury there was something gentler, a quiet ache that wrapped around his heart like a silken chain.
Please.
Rune’s resolve broke. The hum of her soul in his chest unraveled his fury, folding it into something he couldn’t name.
He lifted his claws. The knight’s broken form sagged against the floor, gasping for breath. Shadows swirled around Rune, smoke and flesh shifting until he stood once more in his humanoid form.
His crimson eyes lingered on Alora’s face. When he spoke, his voice rolled through the chamber. “Your queen has spoken.”
Disappointed groans swept through the crowd.
Alora dropped to her knees beside the knight, taking his face. “Caelum? Can you hear me?” She shook his shoulders, but he didn’t stir. “Caelum!”
Rune turned away, not able to stomach seeing her fuss over another man. He climbed back up the steps and sat back in his throne.
“He’s unconscious,” Calla said, appearing beside her. “He likely broke a few bones. May I take him away and tend to his wounds?”
Alora nodded, rising to her feet. “Please keep him safe.”
Calla and the knight vanished in a cloud of smoke.
Hadeon and Deimos stayed behind, flanking Alora like sentinels, but no one attempted to approach her. Especially with the large panther sitting at her feet.
“Were you entertained?” Rune asked his court, his voice echoing through the stillness. “The tension. The spectacle. Truly, a magnificent display.”
Alora’s expression sharpened, and he could taste her fury like honeyed venom on his tongue.
She climbed up the steps. “Rune.”
He ignored her, ginning as his gaze swept over the jeering crowd. “I must commend the knight’s gallant attempt at a rescue. Yet it was my queen who spared him from spilling his entrails on the floor. Who knew mankind could provide such amusement.”
Laughter erupted, roaring in his ears.
Alora stopped in front of him and smiled sweetly. “You found that entertaining?”
Before he could answer, she drew back her arm and punched him. The sound cracked through the throne room, snapping his head to the side.
Dreadful silence fell, all going still.
“Do I, at last, have your attention?” she hissed.
A smirk rose Rune’s lips as his eyes flamed. He snatched her throat, stifling her gasp. Shadows surged, taking them away and they resurfaced on his bed, with Alora pinned beneath him.
Her pulse beat wildly against his palm, electric, scorching him from the inside out. Every nerve screamed to devour, to soothe, to punish.
He had every urge to unleash all three.
Rune’s fingers tightened ever so slightly as he leaned in close.
“You have always had my attention.”