Chapter 64 ICE AND SKIN
The Winter Garden was silent.
But this wasn't a peaceful silence; it was the silence of a grave. The outside of the massive glass dome was plastered with frozen corpses. Lyra's power had burst the irrigation system, encasing the entire garden, the palace, and those transformed soldiers in a thick sheet of blue ice.
Inside, it was safe. But it was freezing.
Kael was laid out on a bench in the corner, shivering in his sleep. Valeria and Lukas were huddled together amidst the exotic plants, hugging each other for warmth.
Dorian was sitting at the base of the glass wall.
His shirt was in tatters. The Golden Seal on his chest wasn't glowing for the first time. It was dim. Turned a matte grey. He had spent so much energy purging Kael that his own life flame was flickering.
After tucking the babies safely under a thick-leafed plant wrapped in thermal blankets, Serra came to Dorian.
"You're shaking," Serra said. Her voice was a whisper, but it echoed.
"I'm not cold," Dorian said, his teeth chattering. Stubborn. "Just... my battery is dead."
Serra didn't reply. She crouched down beside Dorian. She took his freezing hand and placed it on her own chest, over her heart.
"Don't lie to me," Serra said. "Your skin is like marble. You're hypothermic, Alpha."
(SEEKING THE FIRE)
Dorian tried to pull his hand away, but he had no strength. Serra's warmth was like a drug seeping from her palm to his arm, and then to his heart.
"We won't freeze here," Serra said. She was determined. She took off her leather jacket. The thin camisole underneath offered no protection against the cold, but she didn't care.
She straddled Dorian's lap.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Skin to skin.
"Serra..." Dorian's breath steamed against Serra's neck. "Don't. You'll get cold too."
"Hush," Serra said, burying her face in Dorian's shoulder. "Heat transfer. Laws of physics, Dorian. If you don't burn, I can't get warm either."
They sat in silence. Huddled together in defiance of the frozen hell outside.
But then, the survival instinct gave way to something else.
Dorian's hands began to roam Serra's back. His cold fingers ignited fires on her skin. There was no gentleness in this touch; there was hunger. The wild, desperate desire that comes from narrowly escaping death.
Dorian lifted his head. His eyes had shifted from that dull state to something darker. He looked at Serra's lips.
"I'm afraid," Dorian said. His voice broke. "If I touch you... I'm afraid I won't be able to stop."
Serra grabbed Dorian's chin and pressed her lips to his. "Don't stop," she whispered into his mouth. "Death is waiting for us outside, Dorian. Let us live inside."
The kiss deepened. The cold floor, the corpses behind the glass, the war... it all faded. Only mingling breaths, rubbing skin, and moans remained.
Dorian pulled Serra under him. They made love on the cold floor, amidst exotic flowers, inside that ice cage. Not slow, but hard. As if they wanted to carve each other's existence into their skin. Dorian's seal began to slowly warm up with Serra's touch, turning back to that golden color.
Serra was his source. His charging station.
(EYES BEYOND THE ICE)
A long time later, they lay panting, wrapped in each other's arms. Dorian's color had returned. Serra's head rested on Dorian's chest.
"You're better," Serra said, tracing Dorian's glowing seal with her finger.
"Thanks to you," Dorian said, kissing her forehead.
It was a peaceful moment. Perhaps their last peaceful moment.
Because at that moment, a sound came from the top of the glass dome.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
Someone was tapping on the glass.
Dorian and Serra sat up instantly, adjusting their clothes. They reached for their weapons.
At the top of the dome, in a spot where the ice was clear, there was a face.
This wasn't a "zombie." His eyes weren't bloody. His face wasn't rotted.
It was a young man. Pale skin, raven black hair, and strangely... beautiful. He wore a modern suit, but an ancient cape hung from his shoulders.
The man was looking down at them through the glass. And he was smiling.
But that smile froze Dorian's blood. Because the man wasn't just tapping. He was tapping a rhythm on the glass with the ring on his finger.
The rhythm of Atlas's heartbeat.
(THE OFFER AND THE THREAT)
The man's voice was muffled but audible through the thick glass. Magic carried it inside.
"Romantic," the man said, looking at Dorian and Serra. "Love and War. My favorite tragedy."
Dorian jumped to his feet. "Who are you?"
The man walked on the glass dome as if gravity didn't exist, coming down to their level.
"I have many names," the man said. "Grave Keeper. King of Ash. But you can call me... Uncle."
Dorian froze. "What?"
The man placed his hand on the glass. On the other side, he was melting the ice.
"I want your son, Dorian," the man said, his voice no longer playful but deadly serious. "The silver inside him. If you give him to me willingly, I will spare the girl (Lyra) and your wife. I promise you, they won't be harmed."
Serra lunged forward. "Never!"
The man shook his head, looking disappointed.
"Wrong answer," he said. "If you don't give Atlas to me, I will take him. But then... I won't just take his blood. I will take his corpse."
The man raised his hand. And in that instant, thousands of frozen "zombie" soldiers around the glass dome opened their eyes simultaneously. Trapped in the ice, they turned their heads to look at Dorian and Serra.
The King of Ash whispered:
"Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."
And he snapped his fingers.
At the very top of the glass dome, a thin, hairline crack appeared.