Chapter 35
Rynlee’s POV
My eyes fluttered open as pale morning light spilled through a stained-glass window, scattering fractured colors across the room.
For a moment, I didn’t know where I was.
The bed beneath me was too soft. Too whole.
Fur blankets draped over carved wooden posts.
A fire burned low in the hearth, its warmth lingering in the air.
An adjoining bathroom gleamed beyond an arched doorway, polished stone, steam curling faintly from within.
It seemed almost… safe. Then the memories came crashing back.
The battle, the smoke, Erebus, Alaric’s lifeless body, Derek’s revelation, Aiden’s betrayal, and my own collapse beneath the weight of it all.
My breath hitched as every ache and bruise reminded me it hadn’t been a nightmare. I pushed myself upright, limbs trembling, and stumbled into the adjoining bath. My armor was still clinging to me, bloodied, torn, reeking of smoke and sweat. I stared down at my hands.
Alaric’s blood was still stained into my skin. My vision blurred, but I swallowed the tears back before they could fall. I stripped off my leathers quickly, almost violently, as if I could tear the memories away with them and slid into the steaming water.
The heat stung at first, sharp, biting, then sank deep into my muscles, loosening the tension knotted under my skin.
I lifted my hands again, watching the water lap against them, darkening as the blood finally began to fade.
My chest ached all over again. “I’m sorry,” I whispered before plunging my hands beneath the surface.
Scrubbing until the last traces of Alaric were gone, until the water ran pink and the ache in my throat burned worse than any wound.
For the first time since the chaos started, I allowed myself to exhale.
The golden orb around my neck glimmered faintly through the steam.
I lifted it into my palm, cradling it like something fragile.
Hemera. I needed her guidance. Her truth.
I needed to tell her everything: Erebus’s return, the prophecy, the corruption spreading from the High King like rot beneath polished stone.
The orb pulsed warmly, steady and sure, as if answering a question I hadn’t voiced.
The world was shifting. And somehow… impossibly… I was standing at the center of it.
When the water finally cooled, I pulled myself out and dried off, the lingering heat still clinging to my skin. Wrapped in a simple towel, I returned to the bedroom. That was when I saw it: a set of armor lay carefully arranged across the dresser.
Not Arcanna’s. No brown leather. No sigils of rank or academy insignia.
This armor was darker, sleeker. Crafted from overlapping plates of black dragon scale that gleamed faintly in the firelight, as if breathing.
As if watching. I had never seen a dragon in the flesh, only read fragments of them in banned texts and half-burned tomes, but this armor felt… alive.
Ancient. Patient. Waiting. My fingers brushed the surface. The scales were cool and smooth, but a low hum vibrated beneath my touch, like a sleeping heart. A folded note lay beside the armor, written in Aiden’s sharp, familiar handwriting.
Put it on.
—Aiden
I didn’t hesitate. The leather pants slid on easily, hugging my legs as if they had been made for me.
The scaled chest piece followed, molding to my frame, snug, unyielding, protective in a way Arcanna armor never had been.
It didn’t restrict me. It anchored me. The boots grounded me with every step, solid and sure, like the earth itself answered my weight.
I stood there for a moment, breathing slowly.
My hair hung loose down my back, damp and heavy. I didn’t bother to braid it.
Today, I wasn’t a cadet. Not a healer. Not even the Rynlee who once dreamed only of surviving Arcanna.
I was something else now. And whatever that was…
I wasn’t going to hide anymore. Pulling the door open, I wandered the halls, each corridor echoing faintly with voices and movement. Survivors. Our people.
But it wasn’t until I rounded a corner and froze that the reality of it all truly struck me. Derek. He was standing by the window, shoulders tense, gaze fixed on the snow-dusted grounds beyond. I hesitated, then stepped closer. “Hey,” I said quietly.
His honey-brown eyes flicked to mine, so much like Mom’s, like Aunt Mira’s, that my chest tightened. “Hey,” he echoed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. His hand lifted, brushing my arm gently. “Ryn… I’m sorry. Sorry I never reached out, never came for you.”
“It’s okay.” My voice cracked more than I wanted it to. “Even if you had, I wouldn’t have remembered you. Just like now.” I shrugged, but the ache lingered. “Why did you leave, Derek? Why didn’t you go to Arcanna like the rest of us?”
He exhaled, leaning one shoulder against the wall. “Because I didn’t want Father’s life. I refused to be his perfect soldier. He pushed me too hard, ever since my power surfaced when I was ten.”
I blinked. “Ten? That’s impossible. We only get our powers through Arcanna and the Rite.”
“Most do,” he said, voice low. “But not us. You always carried Hemera’s gift; you just hadn’t awakened it yet. Mine activated on its own. No Arcanna. No mountain. Just… me.”
The pieces slotted together with a sickening click. “So, Father was aware. He knew I’d inherit the Sun Goddess’s power; that’s why he forced me into Arcanna.”
Derek nodded once. “He knew. And he tried forcing me, too. But I wasn’t going to train in a place already corrupted, where kids are thrown against each other like bloodsport. Arcanna wasn’t salvation. It was a cage. So, I ran. And Kerian found me before Father’s men could drag me back.”
I bit my lip hard, trying to hold on to something steady. “I see,” I whispered.
His expression softened. “Look, Ryn, I had no idea Mom would erase your memory. I didn’t even realize until I tried to come back once. You looked straight through me. Didn’t even recognize my name. And then… then Father told me she’d died.” His voice broke for the first time.
My throat tightened. “I know it’s not your fault. It’s just… a lot.”
“I understand.” He stepped closer, his hand hovering as if he wanted to reach for mine. “But I’m here now. I’m not leaving again. And whenever you’re ready, we can talk. Really talk.”
For the first time since the battle, a small, fractured smile touched my lips. “Sounds good.” And that was when I sensed it. The familiar tug, the pulse in my chest like a second heartbeat. Aiden.
“Ruin. Derek. It’s time,” Aiden said. I turned, and my breath caught. It felt like forever since I’d seen him, even though it had only been a day. His dark hair looked slightly longer, more unruly, like he’d dragged his hands through it a hundred times and given up trying to tame it.
He wore armor like mine, black dragon-scale leather that clung to him like a second skin, the plates catching the light in sharp, deadly lines. His tattoos stood out starkly against the darkness, ink and shadow blending seamlessly.
Arcanna's armor had always presented him as a leader. But this made him look like something else entirely. Like the moon and the dark had shaped him for this moment. Like the power he carried had finally found a form that belonged to it.
For a heartbeat, we just gazed at each other. Then Derek moved first. I followed, falling into step beside him as we trailed after Aiden down the winding corridor, the quiet echo of our footsteps carrying us forward, three figures dressed for a war that no longer pretended to be distant.
The castle walls whispered of age and history; their stone corridors were both foreign and strangely familiar. Like I had walked them before, in another life. We entered the throne room. There were no thrones, just survivors. My friends.
When I saw them: Gia, Luna, Ryan, Jackson, all of them clad in the same black armor, relief loosened my chest. I hugged Ryan and Jackson quickly before finding my place between Luna and Gia, our hands clasping tightly.
But the space beside them, where Alaric should have stood, was painfully empty.
Kerian, Derek, and Aiden took their positions at the front.
Aiden’s voice cut clear and steady through the room.
“We will train again. Most of you are still first-years, still learning how to hone your powers. Some of you were Blood Assassins until last night. But we are one unit now. Tomorrow's training resumes. Professors will teach the truth, all of it. You deserve to know what’s happening at Celetian. We’ll form scout groups, watch posts.
Because by now, the High King knows we survived.
And he and Erebus will stop at nothing to erase us. ”
His shadows stirred faintly at his feet, flickering like smoke.
“But today,” his voice lowered, rougher, “we mourn those we lost.” He led us from the hall into the cold morning air.
The courtyard was cracked and broken, the snow-covered field beyond lined with pyres.
The bodies of the fallen, those we could recover, rested atop them.
Alaric lay on the front pile, his dark hair stirring in the wind.
My heart clenched.
Gods, how I wanted him to sit up and grin at me.
“These men and women fought bravely,” Aiden said, his tone carrying power, weaving through the silence.
“They held their ground in the face of evil. May Thanatos carry their souls to the afterlife.” He stepped toward Alaric’s pyre, shadows twitching like frayed threads as he whispered, “Rest now, little brother. May we meet again.”
His fingers brushed his forehead in the same swirling motion Alaric always used. My chest ached so sharply I almost folded. Flames roared to life as the third years lit the pyres. Smoke billowed upward, thick and black, carrying the scent of ash and grief.
Cries broke out nearby, raw, guttural mourning that clawed at the night.
I moved to step forward, to stand beside Aiden, but the world tilted.
Heat surged through me, sudden and suffocating.
My vision warped, colors bleeding together, the courtyard bending like melted glass.
It felt like an icy hand closing around my throat, invisible fingers pressing hard.
“Ryn, you, okay?” Gia’s voice pierced the haze, but it sounded miles away.
“I-I don’t know. Something is—” My knees buckled as the world twisted again. Then a sudden pull wrenched me from the snow, from the smell of burning wood and grief, and hurled me into a blinding gold light.
But the moment my boots hit the ground, I knew something was wrong.
Terribly, irreversibly wrong. This was the sun realm, yet not the one I remembered.
The once-vivid sky was no longer blue but an endless void of obsidian.
The golden wheat fields had rotted, their stalks brittle and curling in decay.
The air was still suffocating. Even the wind had abandoned this place.
“Hemera?” My voice cracked, thin in the stillness. No answer. I forced my feet forward, crunching through shriveled stalks. Each step sent my heart hammering harder. The silence pressed in, too heavy.
Too final.
And then I saw them. In the center of the field stood Erebus, cloaked in smoke, shadows coiled around him like living chains; his wicked smile carved deep.
And at his feet… My breath stopped. Hemera.
Her radiant body lay crumpled in the withered grass, golden blood pooled in a wide halo beneath her, its glow fading fast.
A severe gash cut across her throat, brutal in its elegance.
Her once-ocean-blue eyes stared lifelessly at the void sky.
Empty. Extinguished. My knees buckled. “No…” The word broke from me, raw, useless.
Horror clawed up my chest, tearing me apart from the inside out.
She was the goddess whose power burned in my veins, whose soul had been tethered to mine.
And now…she was gone. The air shifted. Erebus stepped over her body, shadows stretching long and hungry.
His silver eyes gleamed with cruel delight.
“Hello, Rynlee,” he purred, voice like velvet wrapped in poison. He spread his arms as if welcoming me into ruin. “Welcome to your new kingdom.”