“That is a child, Kael. A small, innocent child,” she rasps, breaths heaving in and out of her in ragged pants. She does not stop. “Not a soldier. Not a threat.”
And her eyes—the emerald-green gems that penetrate through the glass—do not yield. “My love, come back to me.”
Her hands drag through the stubble on his chin, and she pitches her voice low so only he can hear. “You are Kael Thorne. King of Zerynthia. Descendant of Death. Endbringer. Starbound lover tome,” she says, her voice breaking on the last word. “Elyssara Dawnmere, Rightful Queen of Dravara. Your light.”
His light.
The words reach him—they wade through the depthless seas he drowns in, and find him like a truth he can’t ignore.
But the Decay is not so easily dissuaded.
It snaps and lashes. It snarls.
Kael’s Death-shadows crawl up his arms and drift across the hot, dry air of Azhareth’s Inside. And find Elyssara’s throat.
But she does not stop.
“You are mine, Kael Thorne. From now until the Stars claim me,” she chokes out. “In this life and the next.”
The words snake through his system, lodging in his bones like an indisputable fact.
From now until the Stars claim me.
In this life and the next.
Her thumb drags across his cheekbone—grounding. Familiar. Intimate.
The shadow noose gives just slightly. Enough for her to speak.
“I am here,” she says. “I see you. And I am not afraid.”
And for the first time since the wall, neither is he.
Something fractures. Like ice cracking beneath pressure.
The glass fogs.
His breath hits it from the inside. And for the first time, he feels like he might still exist beneath it.
The shadows falter—just a fraction. Enough.
Enough for Kael tofeelher.
Her warmth. Her light. The tether between them pulling tight, anchoring him to himself.
The Decay recoils—not in pain, but in irritation.
This bond is inefficient.
This attachment compromises authority.
But it cannot sever it.
Because this is not a command.
It is acall.
Kael’s breath shudders out of him in a broken gasp.
