Chapter 189: Splinters and Sparks
The corridor leading away from the war room was dim, lit only by torchlight and veins of redstone pulsing beneath the surface of the walls, ancient Umbrazin design meant to detect deception. Aryia’s presence alone had them flaring.
Cassian didn’t speak. He couldn’t quite yet. His grip on her hand was firm, but not cruel, more like an anchor that kept him from collapsing into the chaos unraveling in his chest. He felt lost but at the same time it was as if his path was unravelling in front of him.
She had been watching him since he was a child. She had been his mate all along and yet, she had been pending on a fine line between power struggles and death. She stated that she had loved him from afar while helping to raise monsters. This was ultimately surreal.
“You’re trembling,” Aryia whispered, not looking at him.
“I’m holding back a thousand thoughts and actions,” he replied, jaw tight. “Don’t mistake my silence for peace.”
They stopped in front of his chamber, tone of the outer towers of Maedor’s stronghold which they accessed through the many secret tunnels that had been dug a long time ago. It overlooked nothing but broken plains and smoke-veiled sky. He pushed the door open, guiding her in. The moment it closed behind them, Aryia turned.
Her eyes found his immediately, still molten with the fire in her veins, still marked by sorrow and a raw and deep feeling of need. “I know you don’t trust me,” she whispered.
“I don’t,” he snapped, stepping back with an uneven breath. “You were in their war room, Aryia. While my father ordered the gutting of our kin, you were… what? Helping him write the reports?”
“No.”
“Then what were you doing?!”
Her hand went to her chest, gripping the fabric of her leathers like it could contain the shudder building within. “Trying to survive. Trying to keep them alive. My mother, the others, myself…”
“By helping them torture mine?”
Cassian’s voice cracked at the edges. His Umbrazin and werewolf blood pulsed beneath his skin like a war drum. Flame met shadow. Her legacy and his legacy were never meant to converge, perhaps that’s why the Veil had hidden them from each other for so long. But now, it was done. There was no turning back.
He moved toward her, his body filled with tension, every inch of him holding back the wolf clawing under the surface.
“I can’t tell if I want to kiss you or kill you,” he growled.
“I know,” Aryia said softly. “Because I feel it too.”
Silence fell like storm-heavy snow between them, thick and consuming and then he kissed her. It wasn’t gentle, nor sweet. Cassian let out all the need that had been parched for what felt like centuries, and had just found the flame that would either save him or burn him alive.
Aryia responded like wildfire. Her hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, as if proximity could erase guilt. His mouth devoured hers in a fierce, bruising and searching manner. Not for comfort, but for clarity, for truth in the heat.
He spun her, slamming her lightly against the stone wall, his mouth never leaving hers. Her gasp ignited something dark and carnal in him, but even so managed to restrain himself. She noticed.
“You’re holding back,” she breathed, kissing the corner of his jaw. “Why?”
“Because if I take you now,” he said against her skin, “I don’t know if I’ll ever let go.”
“Then don’t.”
But the moment stretched, breaking on a shard of remembered betrayal. He pulled away, breath ragged, resting his forehead against hers.
“You told them where the convergence would really happen,” he said. “Why now?”
“Because Ashborne is awake and the Elders don’t want Isla alive anymore. They’ve decided to wipe all players from the board before the Veil can be torn. Including you.”
Cassian’s heart dropped.
“They ordered my execution,” she continued. “They believe I’ve already turned and won’t follow their path anymore.”
“Have you? Did you ever truly?”
Aryia lifted her hand, pressing it to his chest. His heart thundered beneath it.
“I don’t know what side I’m on anymore. But I know what I want. I want you.”
For a moment, Cassian couldn’t breathe.
He stepped away again, needing distance. Too much had shifted…Aryia…Marcus. His own lineage, soaked in legacy and blood.
He walked to the window, gripping the stone sill.
Below, the fortress began to light with motion, Maedor had mobilized his scouts. Sombrosi loyalists had begun appearing around the perimeter and somewhere further away, he could feel Marcus, shackled in a cell, still smiling with secrets.
Behind him, Aryia shifted, sensing his thoughts.
“You should know,” she said quietly, “Marcus isn’t just trying to rise again. He’s trying to bleed Maedor dry from the inside. He aligned himself with an Elder known only as Vahrak, the one who survived the purging of Umbrazin scrolls.”
Cassian turned sharply.
“That’s impossible. Vahrak was erased.”
“No,” Aryia said. “He was rewritten. He became Maedor’s shadow adviser. The one no one remembers until it’s too late. He’s the one pushing to awaken Ashborne fully, he believes Damian is a broken vessel, Isla a delay tactic. Ashborne is their fail-safe.”
Cassian’s blood ran cold. “And the failed twin… is it aware?”
Aryia nodded slowly. “It dreams now and every time it does, Veyra empaths die screaming. I’ve heard them.”
He moved to her again, slower this time.
“You’re not safe,” he said. “If what you’ve told me is true, they’ll send every Sombrosi knife after you.”
Her lips parted, voice soft. “That’s why I came. I don’t want to die in silence, Cassian. I want to burn for something.”
He kissed her again. This time slower, a surrender instead of a conquest. He pulled her against him as if she were the only anchor left, and she melted into him like flame seeking kindling. His hand tangled in her hair, hers at his back. Breath met breath.
But the knock shattered it all. A hard, cold knock on the outer door. Cassian pulled back, already reaching for his blade. Aryia was already facing the door, eyes molten.
He opened it.
It was Serel.
Her face was pale, mouth bloodied.
“They’re here,” she said. “Sombrosi Elites. Under Vahrak’s command and they brought Ashborne’s voice.”
Cassian froze. Aryia turned to him.
“Then we run,” she whispered.
“No,” he said, voice like cut glass. “We fight. For us, and for Isla. For everything they’ve tried to bury.”
Aryia’s flame flickered along her skin.
“Then let’s burn the lies down.”