Chapter 23 #3
Alderrath’s eyes flickered—a brief crack in the composure—before he smiled. “The land is prime. The location is convenient. Why would I need another reason?”
“Because you’ve never cared so much about any land before. Not like this.”
Alderrath’s smile didn’t waver. “Perhaps it’s because you’ve revealed your weakness, Arkenoth. Your interest in that half-witch has made Starlight a wonderful leverage, and I intend to use it.”
Ark studied him a moment longer. Prime land, convenient location—all valid reasons.
But it couldn’t be that simple. Alderrath had always wanted one thing: power, especially the kind that couldn’t be bought.
And Starlight had something inside it that made him want it badly enough to tear through legalities and threats.
He’d had his suspicion for days now, but he couldn’t risk revealing it too early and alarming the Sanguine. Not yet.
He pressed, “Name a price, or a property. I’ll give you one. Today. I have dozens of idle estates, half of them better suited to redevelopment than Starlight.”
Alderrath scoffed. “So generous. And so naive.”
“I’m offering better alternatives. You should swallow your pride and take them.”
“You’re offering scraps you don’t want! You don’t even need to bargain—you were born far above this.
Yet you choose to scrape at the edges like one of them.
” He paused, then added, “Like your friends—a bastard half-breed and an elf from a family who’d sell off their own children for a better name.
” Alderrath shook his head, an almost rueful smile on his lips.
“I suppose an Untethered half-witch and a band of orphaned mutts fit your village perfectly.”
The temptation to unleash the shadows became a physical ache. To show Alderrath the true meaning of dissolution. But Cassia’s face, steady and sure, surfaced in the storm.
Be careful, be careful.
He forced the darkness down, re-caging it. The effort left him cold and shaking.
“Aura Cassia and Starlight Orphanage are reminders that not everything worth protecting comes with a pedigree,” he said quietly.
Alderrath’s eyes narrowed. “So you’d fight for those Untethereds, but not your own kind? Do you know how insulting that is? To watch the heir of Varil waste what the rest of us are bleeding for—and not even for a demon, but a half-witch?”
“Your house sits third-highest among the demon Echelons,” Ark replied. “You’re hardly in need of my support.”
“Where is the pride in being third when the path to the top is barred by a man who treats his throne like garbage?” Alderrath stepped around his desk.
“You think you’re above it all. Your refusal to obey the rules makes you dangerous.
You destabilize the system our ancestors built over four centuries. ”
“Perhaps,” Ark said. “But it makes me free.”
Alderrath laughed scathingly. “Free? We were not born for freedom, Arkenoth. We were born to be leaders. It’s a privilege you treat as a joke—and you make the rest of us the punchline.”
Ark held his gaze. To Alderrath, the world was a structure of pillars and foundations—each person in their place, each duty inherited, nothing ever changing. But Ark had never wanted to be a pillar. He wanted to stand where he stood because he chose to.
Alderrath would never understand that. He couldn’t. Because understanding it would mean admitting the pillars were optional.
“We’re done here,” Ark said, his voice dead calm.
“On that, we are in agreement.” Alderrath straightened his jacket, the composure snapping back into place, more brittle than before. “Get out. Starlight’s new Certificate of Ownership is being spell-inked as we speak. Your little witch’s rebellion is coming to an end.”
That stopped Ark cold. A spell-inked certificate wasn’t just paperwork—it was ritual.
The High Registrar’s office would bind Alderrath’s magical signature to Starlight’s very foundations, fusing owner to property through the Registry’s master ledger.
Once sealed, breaking that bond would require untangling three layers of magic at once—Alderrath’s, Starlight’s, and the Registry’s own.
That required unanimous Council consent.
It would mean weeks of bureaucratic warfare, at minimum. Months, if Alderrath made it difficult.
And Alderrath would make it difficult.
Ark’s jaw tightened. If the ink had already touched parchment, Cassia’s chances of reclaiming Starlight were vanishing by the minute.
Damn it. He’d hoped there was still time.
He didn’t say another word. Just turned and walked out, his boots striking the polished marble with a clipped rhythm that echoed through the empty hallway.
Outside, the morning light was a relief—dimmer and gentler than the enchanted blaze of Alderrath’s office.
The city carried on as though nothing had shifted.
Except, everything had.
Alderrath had moved further than Ark had anticipated, sealing the matter shut with ritual and ink and the full weight of a system built to serve men exactly like him. For anyone else, that would be the end.
Ark wasn’t anyone else.
And he wasn’t done fighting.