Page 104

The crowd stirs, nodding and muttering in agreement, while Harkus peers back at them, a frown further creasing his ancient face.

“What truth?” he asks, his tone stripped of amusement.

Princesa laughs, the sound echoing off the jagged rocks like a mocking spirit. “The only truth that matters,” she says, her voice sharp with conviction. Her head tilts downward—a predator ready to strike. “Tell him, Garzum.”

All eyes swing to the trembling Elder. His crimson gaze darts from Princesa to Harkus, then to the cavern floor as if seeking refuge in its cracks.

“I... saw... something. I’m unsure of its nature.” His voice falters, and when he looks back at Harkus, it is with the loathsome certainty of betrayal.

Weakling.

“You dare forsake Arawnoth?” Princesa hisses, the fervor of her hatred crackling through the air, surprising even me.

“You, who are burned by his sacred words?” she continues trace-like, jabbing an accusing finger toward Garzum.

“I hope he sears the skin from your bones in his eternal flames! You pathetic snake, you squirming worm, you sniveling rat, you fucking asshole!” she shrieks, her hands rising in raw fury.

Through our bond, I sense her silver fire roaring with unrestrained rage.

Its tongues lash toward my own crimson inferno, yearning to intertwine like a lover reaching for their partner.

I open the floodgates of my fury, allowing our connection to surge unimpeded.

It’s easy for me—one whose hatred forever seethes beneath the skin.

Immediately, Garzum grunts in pain, his body pinned between two translucent silvery barriers pressing from either side. Gasps ripple through the crowd, and they instinctively step back, as though his punishment might be infectious.

“This is the truth you’ve forgotten, Elder, ” Princesa declares, smirking. Her silver eyes blaze with glee, the mark of Arawnoth burning on her chest, reflecting the pride that she stokes in me. “Arawnoth blesses me. Blesses us.”

Her eyes burn brighter, swirling red and silver, as the barriers constrict around Garzum like a vice, his agony etched into every contorted line of his face.

“Stop this madness!” Harkus shouts, stepping forward with an outstretched hand.

Without thought, I summon a wall of flame to block his path.

The fiery barrier roars to life, forcing him to recoil, his feeble hand snapping back from the heat.

The flames caress my skin like Princesa’s touch, warm and pleasing.

He should consider himself fortunate that I didn’t cook the flesh from his bones for daring to touch my Princesa.

“Lexie, please,” Sandra’s soft voice cuts through the chaos, her plea piercing even the storm of our fury. She clutches Princesa’s arm, her expression wrought with concern. “You’ve made your point. Let it go.”

Princesa tears her gaze from the squirming Garzum, her sneer faltering as her eyes meet Sandra’s. For a moment—silence.

“Fine,” she mutters at last. “Whatever.” She lowers her hands. The silvery barriers vanish, and Garzum collapses onto the stone, gasping for breath. The crowd murmurs, their awe tinged with fear, as I extinguish the flames with a casual gesture.

“ Machsin’s mercy ,” Harkus breathes, his trembling hand clutching the immense sneachir skull for support.

His eyes remain downcast as though seeking answers in the stone.

“The Gods have blessed your union. That they would gift ones such as you with such devastating power—what divine plan could justify this?”

He is wrong. The Mortakin-Tok merely bolstered what was already earned. The Gods favored Princesa’s sacrifice—our ascension.

“I knew it was a mistake,” Harkus says finally, his voice low but filled with bitterness.

His gaze snaps to mine, his eyes sharp as if they seek to pierce my molten skin.

“For Krogoth to spare your life and forbid your punishment,” he continues, shaking his head as if waking from a nightmare.

“Did the Scythians leave you nothing but the brawn of beasts?” His tone hardens, cutting deeper. “Are you as empty as the others?”

His words tear at unhealed wounds—memories shrouded by darkness, buried in pain.

“Empty?” I echo, my voice a sneer, my rage bubbling to the surface like molten lava. “My fury will ignite the stars themselves, you withered relic!” My fist clenches, trembling with the effort to restrain myself.

Harkus snorts, unimpressed by my outburst. “Hatred,” he says, as if it’s a curse, his disappointment fanning my fury higher. “Is that why you condemn yourself, attacking an Elder?” He nods toward Princesa, his gaze accusatory. “Dragging a willful human into your crimes?”

Princesa bristles, ready to retort, but Garzum’s voice rises first.

“There was no attack, Elder Harkus.” Garzum’s words ring with unexpected resolve, his chin lifting in defiance.

“The War Chieftainess was correct to remind me of Arawnoth’s wrath.

” His crimson eyes burn with fervor, glittering like embers in the gloom.

“It wasn’t mere mortal strength but the divine touch of the Gods themselves! ”

Princesa smirks, her joy mirroring the pride surging through my chest. Garzum’s eyes blaze with clarity, his heart pure and overflowing with truth.

“This was no act of the Gods,” Harkus mutters wearily, his ancient face seeming to age a century in mere moments.

“This was the recklessness of youths wielding powers they shouldn’t have.

” His expression softens into pathetic pleading.

“No different than babes with arc blasters. Can’t you see that? ”

“No,” Garzum snaps, his face twisting with disdain. “It is you who are blind! The Gods move through them! They are divine instruments, their will made manifest.” He sweeps his blackened, scarred arm toward Princesa and me, his conviction radiating through the chamber.

“And what of High Chieftain Krogoth’s will?

” Harkus counters, stepping forward. “Was he not also aided by the Gods? And now you move to undo all that progress by naming them War Chieftain against the expressed wishes of the Council?” His eyes bore into Garzum, searching for a glimmer of understanding.

“Don’t let zeal blind your better judgment, brother. ”

Garzum stiffens, his voice steady and deliberate.

“I do not claim to know the will of the Gods, Harkus,” He turns his gaze to the towering statue of Arawnoth, its magma-filled veins casting flickering orange-red light over the blackened crags and the hushed faces of the assembly.

“Only the heart of the molten Arawnoth. I will not turn my back on him again. I will heed the sacred words—the runes of strength and dominance scorched into my flesh!” His eyes flash like sparkling rubies as his fingers scrape down the runic scars on his face.

“Not the soft whispers of your Draxxus Gods, nor their favored.”

Harkus halts as if stuck, his shoulder sagging as the realization burns deep into his soul—my coming is inevitable. Slowly, he turns away from Garzum, his narrowed eyes locking onto mine. The intensity of his glare only fuels my fire, and I meet it with a gaze as unyielding as the Peaks of Scarn.

“This is truly your wish, young Dracoth?” he demands, his voice rising with passion. “To drag us back to the ways of the Scythians? Back to extinction?”

His question implies inevitable defeat. Typical of the old and feeble—clinging to sophistry, spinning the air with time-wasting bleats.

“My wish,” I growl, my voice low and steady, “is for our eternal glory, Elder.”

“Nothing is eternal,” Harkus replies, his tone shifting to that of a teacher addressing a na?ve student.

“Glory fades, Dracoth. Your strength, your fire—it will all die, as we all will. What then?” He sweeps his arms wide, encompassing the crowd’s muted faces.

“What will the Gods care when there is no one left to remember?”

I suppress the urge to groan at his absurd arguments. “You twist my words into farcical conclusions.”

“I merely ask questions,” Harkus presses, his gaze unwavering. “Perhaps you’ve not thought deeply enough about what truly drives you .” He points a wizened finger at my heart.

His words land like hammer blows, cracking the surface of my certainty. My gaze falters, dropping downward as his icy shards of doubt dig deep, driven by a truth I’ve neglected beneath my rage. My vengeance—my glory—has always been enough.

Hasn’t it? It must be. There is nothing else.

“Vengeance drives me, Elder!” The words erupt from me, my fury spilling like molten lava through clenched fangs.

“Glorious battle sustains me. Our people’s dominance over the lesser aliens is our destiny.

” My voice rises in a heated tirade, my blazing eyes locking onto his.

“This is my divine gift—death. Let our enemies be reborn in strength!”

The cheers of my Magaxus clan ripple through the chamber, their fists pounding against their chests in a thunderous chorus.

Pride swells in my chest, but it’s fleeting.

Harkus remains unmoved. No fear, no doubt—only a nauseating resignation etched across his ancient features.

His thick brows droop, as if mourning me already.

“Tell me,” he begins, his voice low, heavy with something I cannot place, “what remains after the flames of your vengeance die, leaving only ash and ruin? When the fire consumes not just the galaxies, but your very soul?”

His words slice through the reverberating cheers, cutting me from the moment like a Nebian laser.