Chapter 44 #2
Marina stepped in with Silas, her cheeks flushed with restrained fury, gaze locked on Thorne.
“You made us wait,” she said. The calmness in her tone didn’t fool Gisela. “You were going to do it,” she continued. “You were going to give yourself up, and you didn’t even look back.”
Thorne’s jaw clenched. He didn’t deny it.
Marina’s gaze flicked to Gisela, softened, then returned to Thorne. “Don’t ever do that to us again.”
Silas stepped closer. “Next time you think about sacrificing yourself, remember you’re not the only one who pays for it.”
Thorne nodded once. Barely.
The King’s eyes darted frantically to the empty space where his guards should have been, leaving only Zaro at his side.
Zaro moved to walk off the dais, his gait graceful as he strode down the stairs. “Well,” he said, a smirk turning the corner of his mouth. “This was always how it was meant to end.” He chuckled.
“Do something, Zaro,” King Ravenor said.
Zaro’s gaze remained on Thorne.
With fiery passion, the kingdom’s fate is taken.
Gisela felt it then, an invisible pressure in the air, like the world itself had been waiting for the last piece to arrive.
Zaro’s voice dropped, almost gentle. “Did you actually believe it would be possible? That you could steal the gifts granted by The Six?”
The King sneered, but his eyes betrayed him.
Uncertainty.
Zaro’s smile thinned. “You murdered Mystics for years, then wondered if the gods would answer you.” His gaze hardened. “We do not kneel to hypocrisy.”
The King’s uncertainty shifted to realization and he lunged—but Zaro raised his hand. The King stopped mid-step, as if the air had hardened around his throat. His fingers clawed at his neck, breath stuttering.
“King Ravenor?” Zaro asked, feigning concern. “Are you alright?”
“I’m not doing that,” Adrian whispered.
“Oh, foolish, King Ravenor,” Zaro cooed, bending down to meet the King’s gaze. “You were so impatient. Predictable.”
The King’s gasps grew frantic as his face turned blue. He collapsed to his knees, his eyes darkening in fury and disbelief.
Zaro’s gaze pinned Thorne. “When fire stands witness beneath the sun’s churn.”
The words hung in the cool air.
“And fire stood witness today.”
A broken sound tore from the King’s throat as he pitched forward, scraping at the stone as if retreat were possible.
Zaro’s hands remained steady, his expression neutral, casual even.
With one final, wet gasp, the light left King Ravenor’s eyes, and he collapsed. His crown rolled across the stone with a hollow, metallic ring. Life drained from him as quietly as the air Zaro had refused to give back.
Zaro’s gaze flicked briefly to the vial at Ravenor’s feet, then away.
Marina and Eva stepped closer to Gisela, while Silas and Adrian edged toward Thorne, their eyes fixed on the body at the foot of the dais.
King Ravenor was dead.
Gisela couldn’t hear anything. Couldn’t see anything other than the body.
The scene before her took on the surreal edge of a lucid dream, the kind so real it makes you wonder if you’re actually asleep.
A distant part of Gisela—the healer, the girl who once believed in mercy—flinched at the thought of a life lost, however deserving. The sensation scraped at her insides and vanished before she could indulge it.
All that remained was relief.
“What just happened?” Marina whispered.
Zaro regarded them with keen eyes. “I did tell you I was on your side, Gisela.”
Thorne crossed the space in two strides and pulled Gisela into his chest. She winced as his arm grazed the slice on her shoulder, but she didn’t care—she clung to him, breath shaking, burying her face in his scent.
Zaro’s head tilted, studying them with calm curiosity.
“I’m sorry,” Thorne whispered into her ear.
Silas’s voice cut through the silence. “Who are you?”
Zaro bent and lifted the fallen crown. He set it upon his own head with deliberate care. “I am the Mystic King.”
“No, it’s not that simple,” Marina shot back. “You’ve been planning this all along?”
“I understand how it looks,” Zaro said. “But power alone doesn’t crown a King.” He turned to Thorne. “Witness does.”
Marina’s laugh came out raw. “You allowed this—this tyrant—to destroy our land, only to usurp his crown?”
Zaro’s eyes cooled. “Would you prefer him alive?”
“No,” Marina spat, “but my entire crew is dead because of him . . . and because of you.”
Marina lunged at him, but Zaro halted her in mid-air with a wave of his hand. “Now, now. Let’s not act in haste.”
“Let. Me. Go.”
With a graceful flick, Zaro released her.
She hit the stone hard enough to make her wince, then surged back to her feet, shaking with rage.
Silas stepped between them, voice controlled. “We have questions.”
Zaro’s smile returned. “Of course you do. But understand this, I only want the best for Mystralos. Although my methods were unconventional, the realm needed to witness the lengths Ravenor would go for his own glory.”
Gisela and Thorne pulled apart, turning their focus to Zaro.
“To be fair, the same could be said for you,” Adrian added.
“Where are the Mystics you awakened?” Gisela pressed.
“They’re safe,” he replied.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Zaro’s smile thinned. “They live. They are no longer under Ravenor’s hand. They are protected, cared for, and will serve in positions where their gifts can be refined. They will be guided, no longer hunted or tortured. Their freedom is theirs in ways they’ve never known.”
Relief brushed Gisela’s mind before something harsh settled.
Guided freedom.
A kinder cage was still a cage, but it was infinitely better than Ravenor’s rule.
“This is bullshit,” Marina said through clenched teeth.
Zaro’s voice went quiet. “Believe me, I regret what it took. But they will be housed, healed, and taught. They will not die by Ravenor’s hand.”
Thorne shook his head. “This was your plan all along. Infiltrate the kingdom, slowly create your own defenses? Let the world rot?”
Zaro didn’t flinch. “The executions ended. The Stones were always within reach. Ravenor exposed himself. The realm will be how it was intended.” He turned to Gisela. “I’ll retrieve the Stones.”
The offer struck Gisela. The possibility of recovering the Stones without further bloodshed was too good to be true.
“Fuck you,” Marina spat but Silas grabbed her arm, his eyes widening in a silent plea for restraint.
“Do you want them or not?”
“We do,” Gisela said, turning to Marina.
“It’s his plan that got my entire crew killed, that destroyed my mother’s ship. How could you be so quick to forgive him? We don’t even know him.”
Gisela’s thoughts tangled in on themselves. Zaro was a risk she could not justify, but the Stones were nearly within her grasp. He was offering the very thing she had come for, and walking away felt like a betrayal of the purpose that had carried her this far.
“We came here for the Stones. We’re getting them,” Gisela asserted, trying to shake off the unease gnawing at her gut. She had to focus on the goal, no matter what the cost.
Silas’s expression remained neutral as he maintained a firm grip on Marina’s arm. “Let’s take the Stones and get out of here.”
Elysande stirred on the floor and Gisela rushed to her aid. She brushed the stark white hair away from her face, relief flooding her as she stared into her friend’s dazed eyes. “You’re okay,” she whispered, squeezing her hand.
Zaro considered Elysande before leaving the room.
Eva approached and kneeled beside Gisela. Together, they helped Elysande to her feet, steadying her as they guided her over to the rest of the group.
Elysande was still out of it, her gaze unfocused. “What happened?” she barely rasped out.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” Gisela reassured her, though the words felt thin, fragile.
“Don’t lie to her,” Marina snapped, her eyes blazing with anger. “I can’t believe you’re willing to let this nobody come in and steal the throne.”
“What choice do we have, Marina?”
The Stones. They needed the Stones.
Marina’s face hardened as she stared at the spot where the King had fallen. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small strip of weathered rope—frayed, salt-stiff. A piece of her ship.
A piece of them.
Her jaw trembled. Then she turned away, grabbed Silas’s arm, and stormed out of the room.
Thorne slid his arm around Gisela’s waist. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “She’ll be alright.”
Gisela shook her head, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t blame Marina for her anger. For all she knew, she could be making a deadly mistake. But the promise of the Stones—their power to restore what had been lost—outweighed her fears, at least for now.
Zaro returned with a leather bag clutched in his hand. “They’re in here,” he said, extending it to Gisela. “See for yourself.”
Gisela peered inside. They glimmered dimly, a shadow of the radiance the Ice Stone once held upon its pedestal. Only Thunderpeak’s stone remained vibrant.
“Thank you, Zaro,” she said.
Adrian nodded solemnly before following Marina and Silas out of the throne room.
Eva struggled to support Elysande as she rose.
They made their way out, and Elysande glanced up at Zaro. Her face drained of color. Her lips moved, shaping words too faint to hear, her voice reduced to a rasp.
“N—ox . . .”
Gisela frowned, leaning closer.
“Bring her back home,” Zaro said. “She’s not well. The woman needs rest.”
Elysande shook her head vehemently, repeating the same unintelligible phrase.
Eva guided her out, leaving Thorne, Gisela, and Zaro alone in the grand, echoing space.
Zaro’s gaze landed on Thorne. “I knew you would come for Gisela,” he said, a faint smile touching his lips. “But your timing was impeccable.”
Thorne held his stare, measuring Zaro in silence.
“Gisela,” Zaro continued, turning to her with a casual ease that felt deliberate, “why don’t you go on ahead to your friends. Smooth things over. I’d like a word with Thorne.”
“Why?”
Zaro’s smile widened, disarmingly gentle. “Surely, you don’t believe I’d hurt him after all of this?”
“Whatever it is you want to say to him, you can say to me.”
“It’s okay, Gisela. I’ll be out there soon,” Thorne said.
She was taken aback. “Are you sure?”
“I am.”