Chapter 43 #2
His gaze drifted to the mark on his wrist. A spiral that looped into an incomplete circle, both ends curling inward.
“What is that?”
“A god’s mark,” he said quietly, “but in truth, it’s a shackle.
A divine promise not to unmake the world.
” He let his hand drop, his sleeve hiding the mark out of sight.
“When Elyōn created new gods to replace the old, they were marked with this seal that bound their power. So nothing could threaten the balance of the Realms again.”
He looked to the east, his voice lowering. “But places like Khar Avalen are still tied to the ones they once served.”
A tremor slid through her as she finally understood that Salvia had not made a bargain with a new god, but with the old.
“I was born on the day of the Blood Moon,” Alora murmured, rubbing her thumb over the scar on her fingertip. “At first, I thought it was good fortune, but now I realize it had to be that day. It’s not merely a lunar eclipse when magic is restored, is it?”
“The Blood Moon was born when the Primordials were imprisoned,” Rune said.
“Too much of the Abyss’s erosion had been used to hold them, and it left the Realms somewhat unstable.
So, once every five years, the Blood Moon rises as a release.
The sky bleeds so the world does not.” He looked back at her, eyes dark with old truth.
“It is also the one day the veils thin enough for the Abyss to reach through. There is no telling which Primordial contacted your mother. My hope, is that she bargained with the weakest of them.”
“Why…?” Alora whispered.
Rune smirked harshly. “Because if she did… then perhaps I have a chance of defeating him.”
Just a chance.
Her throat tightened. Rune, the god who had once brought kingdoms to their knees, felt uncertain? The tension in his jaw, the grip at her waist… it was fear.
And not merely for her.
Because she had heard the whispers and seen the massive throne of stone.
Rune was not the first King of the Netherworld.
His shield on the bond wavered a fraction, enough to feel how much he would rather go anywhere but east.
“Why did you insist on coming with me?” she asked quietly.
“Because it means we will also learn about you.” Rune observed her with a half-smile as he reached for a lock of her hair.
They passed through a stream of sunlight coming through the canopy, turning it to gold in his fingers.
“Though I must confess, I am vastly intrigued by you. I must know what you are.” His gaze fixed on hers. “And what magic made you.”
Alora’s heart shook, his words sinking in her bones.
What magic made her…
That’s what she had been trying not to think about, but it was no use hiding. She wasn’t human, clearly with the way the tendrils of black smoke continued to flicker around her. She had taken Rune’s power, yet the sun had no effect on her and the question begged why?
That morning, she had caught her reflection in the surface of the pond, and it didn’t look quite like her anymore.
Her eyes were now red instead of the hazel she remembered.
Her hair, always golden brown, now veiled in streaks of shadow as if the night itself had woven through each strand.
Her skin took on a delicate, translucent sheen, like carved marble.
And she had not forgotten the claws that emerged when she was angry.
And beneath it all, her softness was fading, carved away by something sharper and eerie. Something ancient. For a moment, she couldn’t tell who was staring back.
Nexus darted ahead in the bush, chasing butterflies, pulling her back to the still forest. Wisps of black smoke hovered around her restlessly.
Alora sighed, frustration dropping in her stomach. “But what am I supposed to do with your shadows? I can’t control them.”
Something like amusement sparked in Rune’s eyes as he reached out for the black smoke coiled around her shoulders and the willful things responded like living ribbons, affectionately winding around his fingers.
“I sense,” he mused, “that you won’t keep them for long, shadow darling.”
Her brow lifted at the new moniker. “Because you already know how to reclaim them or because the Dominions would likely try to overthrow you if they found out?”
His smile turned dark, dangerous. “They are welcome to try.”
Alora’s gaze lingered on the spiderweb glinting with dew in the bushes. “If the Dominions are such a threat,” she said quietly, “why permit them to hold so much power in your domain? Why not end them? You held no reservations for Caelum.”
Rune smirked softly. “A Dominion is not a man you can execute on a whim. We are the Seven Lords of the Seven Hells. Kill one without cause, and the Court does not fall silent. It fractures.” The shadows split, as if illustrating the thought.
“Fractured courts riot and devour one another for power or devour the one who dared to rise against them.”
The words settled heavily in her chest.
“Killing Sal’vathar would not end a problem,” Rune continued. “It would turn one blade into a host of thousands.”
Alora swallowed. She had thought leniency stayed his hand.
It was restraint.
“A Dominion may only fall by sanctioned means,” Rune continued. “Vahl’Tor invoked. Unanimous censure. Or failure to uphold the Realm.” His jaw tightened. “Until then, his life is not mine to take.”
“And if you did?” she asked softly.
He turned then, copper eyes steady. “A king who rules by impulse does not rule for long.”
There was wisdom in that.
Alora looked down at the tendrils of smoke drifting from her fingers. Even with all this power, in the face of danger she wouldn’t know how to defend herself. She didn’t even know how to use her own magic let alone his.
If the Dominions did come after them, she would most certainly die.
His hand trailed up to cup her cheek. For once, it was warm. “I’d sooner burn the world than let that happen.”
The light between them shimmered.
And she recalled what Sal’vathar had said about continuing his plan.
“Is that not what you wanted?” Alora asked. “To burn the world and drape it in darkness?”
“I did…” he admitted. “Once.”
There was a faraway pain in his eyes as he gazed at her.
“I resented Elyōn… for many things.” He looked away.
“I warred on the world for revenge, for a place my court could survive in without the light’s punishment.
Above all, to regain what I’d lost. I will not give you an honorable reason, for I have none.
” He met her eyes again. “I spilled blood, damned souls, and committed every depravity you could name. I am the source of all wickedness.”
But Rune looked so soft in the afternoon, voice soft as he confessed his sins. Like a man who once ruled darkness and would now kneel to her light. The way he was looking at her dissolved her armor, because for once, his own was slipping.
“If I asked you to remake the world into a better place instead of filling it with darkness,” she whispered, “would you do so?”
His copper eyes warmed. “For you, love? Anything.” He smirked though, scratching at his chin. “I can’t say the court won’t protest. Demons live for mayhem and bloodshed. And they were never meant to be here.”
Alora paused, now understanding the perplexity of his presence in the Mortal Realm.
“Do you want to return to the Netherworld?”
“It is not my choice, though for a time I had despised the thought.”
Alora quieted, sensing this was another rare glimpse into his past.
“When my brothers and I came to this Realm, it was to remake what the Primordials had destroyed,” Rune said, his gaze growing distant with memory.
“We filled it with life and death, with the sun and the moon, with the dark and with light. It took several millions of years before our task was complete. Thousands more as we watched humans thrive into the First Age.”
He had already mentioned that his brothers returned to the Heavens.
How long had he been alone, waiting for his turn?
“Why did your Gate remain closed?” she asked.
Rune was quiet for a long time then he said stoically, “I had assumed it was punishment. My father was not too pleased with me the last time we spoke.”
She blinked, taken aback at the thought. “Your father?”
“Elyōn.”
The air left her lungs briefly, her mind reeling. Of course. He was the creator of the new gods, and thus, their father.
“My brothers were not bound to the dark as I was. An injustice I personally reviled. However, we soon realized our Gates would open once we found our fated brides.” Rune smirked, leaning down to murmur in her ear.
“The sign indicated by when they attempted to take our immortal lives. A cosmic jest, I suppose.”
Alora flushed, inwardly grimacing as she recalled stabbing him through the heart. But this answer another of her lingering questions. He chose her as his bride because he had been waiting all this time to go home.
Alora patted his hand resting on her waist. “Well, you have your bride now, Rune. What must I do to help you open your Gate?”
The Netherworld was where they belonged. It was all the demons wanted.
But instead of looking pleased, Rune glanced away.
“That may be impossible,” he said, words nearly lost to the breeze.
She frowned. “Why?”
He straightened in the saddle, and the bond went utterly still.
“Because for it to open… you would need to love me first.”