Chapter 108 108
Chapter 108 108
SELENE’S POV
Morning settles like nothing ever broke but the air knows better. The air is still tight, almost like it’s still watching. I find Iver in the hall before he finds me. He’s exactly where I expected: awake, rigid, like he never left this spot. Like if he moved, something would slip beyond his control again.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then, “You broke it,” he says.
Not a question. My gaze doesn’t shift. “You locked me in it.”
His jaw tightens. “I was trying to protect you.”
“No,” I reply evenly. “You were trying to control me.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is when you don’t ask.” The words land harder than either of us expects, silence follows, sharp and uncomfortable.
Iver exhales slowly, like he’s forcing himself back into something measured. “You weren’t stable.”
“I was hearing them.”
“There was nothing there.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” His eyes flicker frustration, concern, something deeper that he doesn’t say out loud.
“You don’t know what that was,” he says.
“I know it wasn’t random.”
“And that makes it better?” His voice tightens slightly. “Selene, you lost control.”
I step closer. “No,” I say quietly. “I used it.”
The distinction hangs between us. He doesn’t like it, I can see it. “That wasn’t control,” he insists. “That was reaction.”
“And your cage?” I counter. “Was that control?”
His silence answers for him. For a moment, something almost shifts like he might admit it, like we might actually meet somewhere in the middle.
Then his expression hardens again. “If I hadn’t done that…”
“You would’ve had to trust me.” That stops him completely because that’s the real problem, not the power, not the screams, trust.
“I don’t have the luxury of guessing with you anymore,” he says finally, quieter now but more dangerous. “Not when what you are right now can tear through everything.”
“And locking me away fixes that?”
“It buys time.”
“For what?” I ask. “For you to decide what I’m allowed to be?”
His gaze sharpens. “For me to stop you from becoming something you can’t come back from.”
The words settle, heavy because there’s fear in them. But it’s pointed in the wrong direction.
“I’m not the one losing control, Iver,” I say.
Then, softer, “You are.” that gets my point across.
He takes a step forward, tension snapping back into place. “Don’t turn this around.”
“I don’t need to.” The space between us tightens again, fragile, strained, one push away from breaking completely.
“I won’t let you destroy yourself,” he says.
“And I won’t let you cage me again.” The silence is threatening because neither of us backs down, neither of us softens. Whatever alignment we almost had last
Then the doors open, not forced or rushed. Iver exhales sharply, almost relieved. “Vayer…” It dies halfway because something is wrong, it's not obvious though.
Vayer steps inside like he belongs here. Like yesterday never happened. Like we didn’t stand side by side planning a war.
My gaze fixes on him. “You came back quickly.”
“I didn’t come back,” he says.
The words settle wrong. Iver frowns. “What does that…”
“I came for what’s mine.” The silence that drops is heavy and immediate.
My body stills completely. “Nothing here belongs to you,” I say.
Vayer’s eyes shift past us toward the corridor, toward the room. The twins. And just like that, everything sharpens.
“No.” It comes out quiet.
I step into his line of sight before he can take another step. “You don’t get to look in that direction,” I add.
His gaze returns to mine, calm as ever. “I’m not asking.”
“Then you’re leaving empty.”
Iver moves then, stepping forward, his presence solid at my side. “You need to explain yourself.”
Vayer glances at him briefly. “I don’t.”
“Try,” Iver says, voice tightening.
Then Vayer exhales, like he’s humoring something beneath him. “The prophecy…”
“Stop.” The word cuts clean through him.
He doesn’t continue, he doesn’t need to. Because I’m already looking at him differently now.
“You really thought that would work?” I ask quietly.
Something flickers in his eyes, small but there. I take a step closer. “You?” I continue. “Out of everyone?”
I tilt my head slightly, studying him. “You’re the one who said prophecies are just stories people weaponize when they want control.”
Iver’s gaze snaps between us. “You said they’re rewritten depending on who’s trying to win,” I go on. “Convenient. Flexible. Useful.”
Vayer doesn’t interrupt, that’s how I know I’m right. “And now you’re standing here using one?” I ask.
My voice doesn’t rise, it doesn’t need to. “Say the rest,” I press. “Say it like you believe it.”
He doesn’t, he can’t. The space shifts subtly but enough. Iver’s voice cuts in, low and sharp. “Vayer.”
A warning now not a question. Vayer finally looks at him and for the first time since he walked in
he doesn’t have control of the moment. “Tell him,” I say softly.
Because I already know he won’t. Because the second he does, the lie collapses completely.
His jaw tightens slightly. There is my confirmation.
My attention settles back on him fully. “You don’t want to prevent anything,” I say. “You want leverage.”
“No.” The denial comes too quickly.
I almost smile. “You helped in planning to take down the moon goddess two days ago,” I continue. “You stood there talking about ending the goddess.”
“I am ending it.”
“By doing her work for her?”
That lands harder than anything else. The air shifts instantly as Iver goes still beside me.
Vayer’s expression sharpens. “Watch what you’re implying.”
“I’m not implying anything,” I reply. “I’m saying it clearly.”
A step closer. “You want one of my children,” I say. “And you expect me to believe it’s because of a prophecy you don’t even respect?”
We sit in an uncomfortable silence. “You know better than anyone that’s a lie.”
His eyes hold mine and for a second, I see it. Not guilt, I wish. He has been plotting.
“You think I’d side with her?” he asks finally.