Chapter 15 ZAPHAROS
Please.
One single word.
Everything shrank to that one word. Please.
It rang in my skull and vibrated through every bone and sinew, drowning out the drone of the Council, the pounding of my own blood. That word hollowed me out. She wasn't begging for herself, not in the selfish, whimpering way that most mortals did. She asked for Earth. For her people.
She looked at me as if I were the only thing between her and extinction.
And I knew, with a sudden, sickening clarity, that she was right, I was.
The Council waited, hungry for my next move.
Vaelion’s eyes glinted with challenge; Dravok's jaw was set in silent solidarity.
Even Thyros, who enjoyed shadow games, watched me from the cold corner of the chamber; his disapproval was as sharp as a blade.
My brothers waited for my decision. The chamber pulsed with judgment and expectation.
I—Praetor of War, breaker of worlds, butcher, weapon— stood there with fury burning my veins and knew Vaelion was right.
Sooner or later, we would fall. Even me.
Especially me. And when we did, the entire universe would collapse with us unless we destroyed the Celestial Portal.
If that was even possible.
The thought gnawed at me, sharp and endless. The Portal was our only way out. If it were closed, we would forever dwell in the dark. And the universe would again slowly be consumed, just like the Mmuhr’Rhong were consuming my soldiers. To unmake it might unmake us all.
Her hand tightened slightly over mine. Please.
I dragged my gaze from her to the Council, my jaw still locked tight. The fire inside me wanted to roar, to spit in their faces that we didn’t need anyone. That we could stand as we always had—bleeding, burning, killing—until nothing was left.
But the truth tasted bitter on my tongue: Vaelion’s words were not weakness.
They were an inevitability. Ella’s word—her plea—was the first thing in eons that made me want to choose more than survival.
Yes, we had invented the Celestial Portal.
Eons ago, when the Arkhevari still burned golden.
It had been necessary, a counterweight to the Dark Abyss, a wound stitched shut with light so that for every world swallowed, another could be born.
A balance. A rhythm. Creation against annihilation.
But we had paid the price for meddling in that balance. Just as the Abyss had consumed us, it had claimed the Portal as its own. Now it bled darkness as often as it birthed light.
If we destroyed it…
The thought coiled tight, colder than any battlefield I’d ever stood upon. It would be like my armies, fighting, dying, dwindling until there was nothing left. No balance, no rebirth. Only blackness, swallowing all.
The words scraped my throat raw before I could stop them. “Who do we ask?” I choked out, the sound harsher than a battlefield roar. “Who can—and will—help us save our Aelyth?”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
My brothers looked at one another, each weighing pride against truth.
It was Dravok who finally spoke, his voice as steady as the walls of the Verge he guarded.
“The Pandraxians. They are the most aggressive and the most powerful of the known species, but unlike others, they still cling to a code. A moral compass. Their armies could stand against the Cryons when ours cannot.”
A growl rumbled deep in my chest, not at his words but at the inevitability of them. My hand tightened on the chair, and I felt her pulse jump beneath my fingers.
“If we must go,” I said, forcing each word through clenched teeth, “then I will do it.” Every head turned. My declaration rang heavy in the chamber.
I looked down at Ella—my anchor, my undoing, my plea made flesh—and every fiber of me screamed not to leave her.
But I knew. I knew I was the only one who could face the Pandraxians without compromise.
The others… gods, I trusted them. I did.
But not that far. Already, I saw the hunger in their eyes when they looked at her.
Aelyth. Balance. Power. They would bend. They would barter. They would grovel.
I would not.
“I will tell them of the danger of the Mmuhr’Rhong,” I said at last, the decision locking into me like iron. “It is in their best interest to stand with us. To band together. The Abyss spares no one, not even them.”
The chamber shivered with the weight of the vow.
Dravok nodded grimly. “The Pandraxians will listen to you, Zapharos. They respect power. They respect strength.”
Ozyrael snorted. “They will eat you alive.”
Ella’s hand was still on mine. Please. It was the only reason I didn't snarl at Ozyrael in response. I didn't even look at him.
"A wise decision," Selkaris agreed. "Do not worry, we will protect your Aelyth with our lives while you're gone."
I almost lost my temper then. I bet they would. "Ella will stay at my palace." I decided. "Guarded."
Ella looked up at me, fear and confusion written over her beautiful features. By the stardust, how was I going to leave her?
"You will be safe," I assured her.
"But will you?" Her retort caught me off balance. She was worried about me?
"There is no danger in my mission," I assured her. "I will keep my presence secret and only show myself to the Pandraxian Emperor."
She didn't look convinced, but she was smart enough to know this was not the time to argue.
"Who will keep the Mmuhr’Rhong at bay while you're gone?" Nythor demanded.
"Korvath," I replied, unsure why he had to ask. But I was too distracted to give it another thought. All I wanted was to be alone with my Aelyth for a few more moments before I had to leave. I turned to Selkaris, "I'll take Ella home and leave. I will inform you of the meeting once it's done."
"Zapharos," Dravok called me back as I took Ella's hand to help her get out of the chair. Only now noticing that she wore nothing but a sheet. That was on me. I would need to learn to consider another person if Ella and I were going to have a chance of being together.
I turned to Dravok. He looked grim, "May the starlight guide your path."
It had been a long time since I've heard those words. We used to say them all the time, but over the course of millennia, they had become obsolete. I nodded at him just as solemnly. "It will. I will return with good news."
Then I took Ella back to the palace.