Their spears, blades, and artifacts are leveled directly at us, enough killing power gathered here to slaughter armies.
Their armor is black and crimson. Their banners bear a crest I know far too well.
House Jubal.
No!
No, no, no… This cannot be happening.
A path opens through the soldiers, and a commander steps forward in polished ceremonial armor, his cloak sweeping behind him.
My eyes widen. Iknowhim.
I may not have seen him in years, but I still remember him.
Baine v’Kyro.
My brother.
For one disorienting second I can only stare, my mind refusing to reconcile the man before me with the brother who once smuggled sweets into my room, who brought me gifts from his campaigns, who was the only person in that cursed palace to treat me with decency.
He stands at the front of the formation in House Jubal warplate, black and crimson steel gleaming beneath the fractured light, his cloak stirring in the cold wind. He looks older, more weathered, if not by time than by experience. Every trace of warmth burned out of him by time and war.
And when his gaze settles on me.
There is recognition, but no softness—no reaction.
There’s only the detached composure of a man staring at a problem he has already decided how to solve.
“Nykander v’Kyro,” he says, his voice carrying across the forest with authority, “by order of the Lord Supreme, you are hereby charged with unlawful cultivation.”
“What’s happening, Nyk? Who is he?” She looks between the two of us, and I can see a flicker of recognition.
“My brother,” I say quietly.
We’ve been through so much in that cursed realm that my last concern was being found by my family. For so long, I barely spared them a thought.
And now… It seems I’ve moved from one hell to another. At least in Aimaxion, with its odd rules and regulations, I stood achance. With the House of Jubal, I am guilty of simply being born.
Two things are clear as I stare at my estranged brother and the many warriors backing him. This is, indeed, a decree signed by the Lord Supreme. However, he’s given the House of Jubal full authority to deal with the issue as they see fit. At most, the Lord Supreme might need to sign off on my execution.
My brother’s eyes remain fixed on mine.
“Any person on the registry is forbidden from ever cultivating. This is one of the highest offenses in the realm, and the Lord Supreme takes it very seriously,” he says in a measured tone. “You are to be imprisoned in the Royal Dungeon pending a trial that the Lord Supreme himself will preside over.”
My eyes widen at that. If anything, I would have expected the Lord Supreme to relegate all duties to the House of Jubal. This is… interesting. And perhaps it might work in my favor in a way—if I can plead my case properly.
Moe’s hand is still in mine. Warm, soft, comforting. It might be the last time I hold it, and the mere thought of it makes me want to bawl my eyes out.
But this is neither the place nor the time. If there is one thing I can still do, it’s to ensure Moe is left alone.
“I will accept the decree,” I state aloud. “You may arrest me, but you must let her go. She is not involved.”
“Nyk, what are you?—”
Baine spares her a glance, deems her unimportant and waves his hand to his soldiers to create a corridor for her to pass through.
Relief floods me. I give him a grateful nod before I turn to Moe.
