Chapter 190: the new king rises (epilogue)

The night was silent as I stood over my father’s broken body, his blood staining the snow beneath us. The battle had ended, but the war was far from over. My breath came in ragged gasps as I forced my dragon form to shift back, my body shrinking, bones snapping and twisting until I stood once more on human feet. My silver hair was matted with sweat and blood, my clothes torn, my arms trembling with exhaustion.  

My father lay before me, still alive but barely. His once-mighty dragon form had been reduced to a shell of itself. His legs, now severed, lay useless beside him, and the once-burning fire in his silver eyes had dulled into something empty. Something defeated.  

A part of me wanted to end him right there, to finish the job and rid the world of his tyranny once and for all. But another part of me—the part that still remembered the father I had once longed for—held me back.  

Sirius groaned, his breathing uneven. He lifted his head just enough to look at me, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something, but no words came.  

I did not wait.  

I bent down, gripping his severed legs with my bare hands, ignoring the slick warmth of his blood as it dripped between my fingers. These would serve as proof. Proof that the old king had fallen, that his time was over, and that a new era was beginning.  

My mother was still lying unconscious where I had left her, her form small and fragile against the vast cold. She had screamed for me to stop before everything turned to fire, before the fight had reached its brutal end. Now, she was silent, her chest rising and falling weakly.  

I moved to her side, kneeling down and brushing a hand over her forehead. She had already suffered enough. Whatever happened next, I would make sure she was safe.  

Lifting her into my arms, I turned away from the wreckage of the battle and spread my wings once more.  

It was time to go home.  

The flight back to Maelstrom was long, but I barely felt it. My body was numb, my mind caught in the storm of everything that had just happened. I had won. My father was broken. My mother was safe. And yet, a strange hollowness filled my chest, gnawing at me with every beat of my wings.  

When the towering walls of the castle came into view, my heart pounded with anticipation. This was the moment I had been waiting for. The moment I would claim what was mine.  

The courtyard was alight with torches, guards standing at attention as I descended. The moment my feet touched the ground, a hush fell over the area. All eyes were on me, on the blood covering my clothes, on the unconscious woman in my arms, and—most of all—on what I carried in my other hand.  

The severed legs of the king.  

Gasps rang out. Some fell to their knees in shock. Others backed away in horror.  

I did not falter.  

Stepping forward, I strode through the gates, the weight of my father’s limbs dragging against the stone. No one dared stop me. No one dared speak. The hallways of the castle seemed smaller than I remembered, though I had never truly called them home. Not like my father had.  

Not like I would.  

The throne room was already full when I arrived. Nobles, warriors, and servants all gathered in nervous anticipation of what would happen next. The remnants of the night’s feast still lingered in the air, though now no one was drinking, no one was celebrating. They had heard the battle. They had seen the flames. They knew change was coming.  

With a slow, deliberate motion, I threw my father’s severed limbs onto the floor before them. The sickening sound of flesh hitting stone echoed through the silent room.  

Someone screamed. Others recoiled in horror.  

I took a deep breath, steadying myself before I spoke.  

"I am Aster," my voice rang out, strong and unwavering. "Son of Sirius. Son of Astra, the rightful queen. The blood of kings runs in my veins."  

The room was dead silent, waiting.  

"I have come to take my place as ruler of Maelstrom."  

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Whispers spread like wildfire. Some looked at each other in shock, others in fear.  

A murmur of movement at the front of the room caught my attention. Megara, my father’s concubine, stepped forward, her emerald eyes studying me with unreadable intent. She did not look afraid, nor did she look particularly pleased.  

"You think they will accept you just because you have taken your father’s life?" she asked, her voice smooth and laced with something dangerous. "The people feared your father, but they followed him. Will they follow you?"  

I stared at her, my expression unreadable.  

"That is up to them," I replied. "But whether they do or not, I am here. And I am not leaving."  

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "And what of your father?"  

"He is alive," I said. "Barely. But he will never rule again."  

A long silence followed. Then, slowly, one of the knights dropped to one knee. Then another. And another. One by one, they all began to kneel.  

It was not immediate, nor was it entirely unified, but it was enough.  

Enough to solidify what had already been set into motion.  

I stepped forward, my boots leaving bloody prints on the marble floor as I approached the throne. The throne my father had once ruled from. The throne I had spent years dreaming of destroying.  

Now, it belonged to me.  

I turned, sitting upon it as the weight of the crownless seat settled onto my shoulders. The room remained eerily quiet, all eyes on me as they waited for my next words.  

I exhaled slowly, glancing at my mother, who was being carried inside by one of my men. She was still unconscious, still fragile.  

Would she accept this? Would she see what I had done and hate me for it?  

Or had this been fate all along?  

The thought lingered in my mind, twisting like a dark shadow.  

Then, I lifted my gaze to the crowd before me, my silver eyes burning with something unshakable.  

"Bow," I commanded.  

And they did.  

The kingdom of Maelstrom belonged to me now.  

Yet, as I sat there, gripping the arms of my father’s throne, a single, unsettling thought refused to leave me.  

Had I truly won?  

Or had I simply become the very thing I sought to destroy?  

A chill ran through me, but I did not let it show.  

Not yet.  

Not now.  

There was still more to come.