Chapter 78: The Broken Crown

POV: Caelum

I wake to the sound of chains.

Not memory. Not dream.

Real chains. Heavy. Cold. Binding my wrists to the wall behind me.

My chamber. My own room in the palace.

But I am restrained like a prisoner.

"What..." I start.

My voice is hoarse. How long have I been unconscious?

Movement to my left.

Lyssara. The fated mate.

She approaches carefully. Keeps her distance.

Her scent floods the room. Sweet. Overwhelming. Desperate.

It does nothing.

No calm. No soothing. No effect at all.

My wolf snarls inside me. Raging. Clawing.

The bloodline madness surging unchecked.

"Please," Lyssara whispers. "Please calm down. I am here. Your mate is here."

I try to focus on her. Try to let the bond work.

Nothing.

The rage builds higher. Hotter. Consuming.

I pull against the chains.

They hold. Barely.

"Guards!" Lyssara screams. "He is waking! He is losing control again!"

Footsteps. Running.

The Queen Regent enters. Face pale. Eyes sharp with panic barely controlled.

"Contain him," she orders. "Stronger restraints. Now."

"Your Majesty, these are already—"

"I said stronger!"

Guards rush forward with additional chains. Silver-lined. Heavier.

They wrap around my arms. My legs. My chest.

I snarl. Fight. Pull.

The wall cracks behind me.

Stone fracturing under the force of my struggle.

Guards recoil. Fear clear on their faces.

"The fated mate's presence is not working," one says unnecessarily.

"I can see that," the Queen Regent snaps.

She approaches me. Stays out of reach.

"Caelum. Heir. You must control yourself. The kingdom needs you stable."

"Where is she?" I rasp.

"Who?"

"Nyra. Where is Nyra?"

The Queen Regent's expression hardens.

"Gone. Dead for all we know. You need to focus on your true mate. On stability. On the throne."

"She is not dead."

"How do you know?"

"I would feel it. If she died, I would know."

"That is impossible. She was not your fated—"

"I know!" I roar.

The sound shakes the chamber.

More stone cracks. Guards stumble backward.

My wolf howls inside me. Not in rage now.

In loss. In grief. In desperate need.

One name. Only one name.

Nyra.

The calm is gone. Has been gone for weeks.

Since the riots. Since I sent her back. Since I chose the throne over her.

Lyssara tries again.

Floods the room with her scent. Presses the mate bond.

My stomach turns. Nausea twists through me.

I recoil from her instinctively.

"It is not working," I gasp. "Your calming. It does not work."

"It has to work. We are fated mates."

"Then fate chose wrong."

The words shock everyone. Including me.

But they are true.

The bond with Lyssara is real. I feel it. Chemical. Undeniable.

But it is shallow. Surface level. Cosmetic.

Not deep. Not stabilizing. Not enough.

Never enough.

"Caelum," the Queen Regent says carefully. "You are heir. You will be king. You cannot function without stability. The fated mate provides that stability."

"She does not. She never did. Only Nyra—"

"The defective is gone. You must accept that."

"She was never defective!"

I pull against the chains with everything I have.

Metal screams. Stone crumbles.

One chain snaps.

Then another.

Guards rush forward to restrain me.

I throw them off. Not consciously. Just instinct. Just rage.

They hit the walls hard. Some do not get up.

"Caelum, stop!" Lyssara begs.

I look at her. Really look.

She is terrified. Of me. Of what I am becoming.

And I feel nothing for her.

No love. No protectiveness. No bond worth the name.

Just emptiness where stability should be.

"I am sorry," I tell her. "But you are not her. You will never be her."

"I am your fated mate!"

"And she was my only salvation. The only thing that ever truly calmed me. And I discarded her for this. For you. For the throne."

I pull against the remaining chains.

They snap like thread.

I am free.

Guards surround me. Weapons drawn.

The Queen Regent backs toward the door.

"Stand down," she orders me. "You are heir. You have responsibilities."

"I have failed every responsibility that mattered."

"You will doom the kingdom."

"The kingdom doomed itself when it bled her dry and called it service."

I walk toward the door.

Guards block my path.

"Move," I say quietly.

They look to the Queen Regent.

She hesitates. Then nods.

They step aside.

I walk through the palace. Through halls I have known my entire life.

Everything feels wrong. Foreign. Hollow.

This was supposed to be my future. My throne. My destiny.

But all I feel is emptiness.

And rage.

And desperate, consuming need for the one person who could make it stop.

The Queen Regent follows. Keeps her distance.

"Where are you going?"

"North."

"You cannot. The kingdom needs you."

"The kingdom needs a king who can function. I am not that anymore."

"We can find another way. More healers. Stronger restraints. Different methods."

"There is no other way. There was only ever one way. And I destroyed it when I chose you over her."

I reach the throne hall.

The Queen Regent catches up. Desperate now.

"Caelum. Please. Think about what you are doing."

"I am thinking clearly for the first time in months."

"You are unraveling. Unstable. Not thinking at all."

"No. I am finally seeing truth. You lied to me. About Nyra. About what she was. About why I needed her."

The Queen Regent goes still.

"What are you talking about?"

"She was never defective. Never broken. She was rare. Powerful. And you used her. Bled her. Kept her weak so I would stay dependent."

"That is not—"

"Do not lie to me anymore. I know the truth. I always knew. I just chose not to see it because it was easier."

I keep walking.

The Queen Regent grabs my arm.

"You will doom us all!"

I shake her off.

"Then we all fall together. I am done propping up a system built on her suffering."

I leave her there. Screaming. Threatening. Begging.

None of it matters.

I walk out of the throne hall. Out of the palace. Out of the life I was supposed to have.

Into the city. Into the unknown. Into the north.

Toward Nyra.

Toward salvation or death.

Probably both.

Guards follow at a distance. Not to stop me. Just to observe.

Let them watch. Let them report. Let them tell the kingdom their heir abandoned them.

I do not care anymore.

All I care about is finding her.

Apologizing. Begging forgiveness. Making her understand.

Even if she refuses. Even if it changes nothing.

Even if I die trying.

I have to try.

The city streets are quiet. People scatter when they see me.

They can sense the instability. The rage barely contained.

The monster their heir is becoming.

I do not stop. Do not slow.

Just keep walking.

North. Always north.

Toward the Icefield. Toward the void. Toward her.

My wolf howls one name.

Nyra.

Only Nyra.

Always Nyra.

Behind me, the palace bells ring. Alarm. Panic. Chaos.

The heir has fled. The throne is abandoned. The kingdom is breaking.

Let it break.

Let it all burn.

I am done bleeding for it.

Now I just need to find the girl I bled dry.

And pray she does not let me die the way I let her suffer.

Even though I deserve it.

Even though she owes me nothing.

I pray anyway.

And I walk north into the cold.