Chapter 23
Thorne
The armada was ready. At least fifty black ships lined the docks, their red and blue sails snapping in the wind like war banners.
I stood at the edge, directing Sentinels as they loaded supplies. My uniform was crisp, immaculate—silver thread stitched across the black like a brand.
Everything in place.
Everything controlled.
Each crate, each command, a distraction. A ritual. Something to keep my hands busy.
Ashton lingered behind me on horseback, draped in silk and silver, every inch the king he pretended to be. Around him, Vasquez’s elites formed a wall of steel and shadow.
Then we saw them. The procession.
A black carriage at the centre, flanked by monks in bone-white robes, each hooded, each armed. Their spears glinted in the morning sun. These weren’t priests—they were executioners.
Vael rode just behind them on a pale warhorse. His face was painted in the blue sigils of the old gods, the kind forbidden in civil temples. Beneath the cowl, his red eyes gleamed—inhuman, impossible to miss.
This meeting had been a long time coming. A convergence of kingdoms. Of devils.
I stood motionless. My king needed me. I must be ready.
Order before mercy.
Truth before feeling.
Duty before desire.
The mantra pulsed through my skull. It grounded me. Anchored me.
I rested my hand on the hilt of my sword as Vael dismounted, his movements too smooth—like a serpent sliding through silk.
Ashton followed suit, swinging down from his saddle in practiced elegance.
They met between us.
Two kings. Two monsters.
Brothers in blood, enemies in everything else.
“Hello, brother,” Ashton said.
“Ashton.”
“So,” Ashton went on, voice light, “are you prepared to honour your side of the bargain?”
Vael’s eyes slid to me. Cold. Curious.
“I see you’ve broken in your dog.”
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just stood there, hand resting on my sword, eyes empty.
“As it turns out,” Ashton replied, “Thorne has recently realized the error of his ways. He’ll hold the line for us now.”
Vael’s lip curled. “Last time we met, he tried to kill me.”
“And?” Ashton’s smile was lazy, careless. “You are, admittedly, rather difficult to like.”
Vael stepped closer—just enough to cast a shadow over me. He leaned in slightly. “Tell me, Thorne. What of my Elira?” His voice was almost kind. Almost gentle. “Where did she go?”
A flicker. The mantra stuttered.
Order before—
I clenched my jaw. “I will find her,” I said. “The traitor. Elira.”
Vael’s expression didn’t shift. “No,” he murmured. “Not a traitor.”
He stepped back, addressing Ashton now. “My darling. My chosen. She will be returned to me, yes?”
Ashton sighed, shifting his weight. “We’ve discussed this.”
Vael’s eyes narrowed. “I need her back, Ashton. Or there is no alliance.”
The air tightened. Even the Sentinels behind me seemed to still.
Ashton’s voice was clipped. “You’ll get what was agreed. But if you think I’ll hand over a weapon like her without conditions—”
“She is not a weapon,” Vael snapped, sudden heat behind the words. “She is my promised.” He exhaled, slow and reverent. “She must miss me terribly.”
I felt a pang in my chest. Sharp. Unbidden.
But I disregarded it.
I must be ready. I must serve my king.
A wistful smile ghosted across his lips. “She should see the temple I’m building for her… marble floors, obsidian arches. A throne of glass and gold, fit for divinity.”
Ashton practically rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. I’m sure Elira is just devastated without you.” He crossed his arms, voice turning colder. “But do remember—I found her first. Which means she falls under my claim. My right as king—”
“Pah.” Vael’s lip curled. “You are no more king than I—”
“My right!” Ashton cut in, sharp and sudden, voice cracking like a whip.
The tension cracked through the air, hot and immediate.
“Do not mistake your delusions for divine authority, Vael,” Ashton said coldly.
“She was in my custody. My tower. My lands. And if she slipped through my grasp, then that failure is mine to correct—not yours to gloat over.”
Vael’s eyes flared crimson. “And yet it was you who let her vanish. Again. Tell me, Ashton—does your grip slip so easily on everything you claim to own?”
A heartbeat of silence. Then Ashton smiled.
“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”
“The deal was – “ Vael began
“The deal was you help me find her. You help me stop this little – rebellion of the northern Isles. And in return I grant you access to her.”
Vael’s nostrils flared. “The gods have decreed—”
“The gods do not run Varrowmere.” Ashton’s voice turned lethal. “I do.”
The silence that followed wasn’t quiet. It thrummed with tension. With prophecy. With rage.
Vael stepped back, his eyes narrowing with fury. “You dare to challenge me?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.
Ashton only smiled. “Lighten up, Vael. I’ll get you Elira.” Then, with a lazy wave of his hand, he added, “And as a gesture of goodwill—you can have Thorne.”
His fingers flicked toward me. I turned automatically.
Vael’s brow rose. “You wish to give me the mind mage?”
“I’ll lend him to you. Call it a... temporary arrangement,” Ashton said breezily.
Vasquez stepped forward, lowering his voice. “Are you sure, sir? Is he ready?”
Ashton’s smile sharpened. “Let’s find out.”
He looked at me. “Thorne. Tell me—what is your job?”
I didn’t hesitate. “To hunt traitors and kill them.”
“And who are the traitors?”
My voice was flat. Cold. “Anyone who dares go against the crown.”
A beat passed.
Then: “Leo. Phoenix. Slade.” A pause.
“Elira.”
The silence that followed was not empty.
Something in me recoiled. Quietly. Distantly. Like a whisper pressed behind glass.
But I said nothing. Because that was not my role anymore.
Ashton turned, triumphant. “Kill the Shades who defy me. Bring me Elira. And you will be rewarded.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“As you can see—” Ashton grinned at Vael. “What a good dog.”
“Fine,” Vael said.
“Vasquez will lead our ships with yours. But you can keep Thorne with you. For now.”
His tone held no praise. No trust. Just cold calculation.
As if I were a tool. A sword passed from one hand to the next.
And I was.
I knew that.
That was the point.
I stood still.
Because that’s what weapons do.
“Will he do as I command?” Vael asked, his voice low, speculative.
“Of course,” Ashton said smoothly. “But I’d advise against breaking him.”
A smirk tugged at his lips. “At least not yet. His mind is… particular. And in battle, it can be quite the asset.”
Vael studied me like one might examine a blade—measuring weight, balance, potential for blood.
“As long as he obeys.”
“He will.” Ashton’s voice was full of certainty. “He’s very well trained.” He nodded to Vasquez.
Vasquez walked up to me and slapped my face. I didn’t flinch. Not even when he grabbed my chin, fingers digging into my jaw, and gave it a sharp shake.
“He’s so hollow now,” he muttered. “I like it. He’s like a shadow of himself now.”
He released me with a shove. I staggered a half-step but caught myself before I could fall.
For a moment, I felt a flicker. A tremor.
A face flashed in my mind.
Blue eyes. Fierce. Luminous.
Fixed on mine like they used to be the only thing anchoring me to this world.
My little shadow, I thought–
Order before mercy.
Truth before feeling.
Duty before desire.
The mantra surged through me like ice water. Steadying. Numbing. Wiping everything clean.
“I am yours to command, sire,” I said.
The moment passed.
I breathed. Shallow. Controlled.
Vael smiled, slow and cruel. “Oh, brother, this is going to be fun.”