Chapter 48 The Last True King of Aetheria
Serafina
The rain showed no sign of letting up, hammering the hut’s roof in relentless sheets. Lightning split the sky, and thunder rolled across the forest, vibrating faintly through the floor beneath the bath.
I sank deeper into the water until it covered my shoulders and tipped my head back against the rim of the tub.
I didn’t want to admit it—but I was nervous.
Steam drifted around me, laced with the soft scent of mint and chamomile meant to calm the senses. The warmth eased the ache in my muscles, but it couldn’t quiet the tight, restless knot coiled in my chest.
People were looking for me.
The Warden.
Magnus Ironside.
Even the rebels.
I hadn’t shown up for whatever fate they believed I deserved—but I wasn’t a criminal. I was just… me. A girl with fire in her blood, doing her best to survive. Apparently, that alone was enough to make me dangerous.
What worried me most, though, was Lio. My brother.
Azerath said he was alive, and I wanted to believe him. But what if the Warden had him? I knew her—she preferred her leverage breathing.
But belief wasn’t certainty.
What if the Imperial Army had him, using him as bait to lure me into a trap? What if Magnus decided that a corpse sent a clearer message?
The thought made my chest ache. It was my fault. Every bit of it.
If I had stopped being afraid sooner… if I had pushed myself to learn to fly instead of doubting… if I had trusted what I was—
Lio wouldn’t be in danger. Because of me, he might be paying the price.
Lightning cracked overhead, bright enough to flash white through the window.
I pressed my palm to my chest. The Ember responded instantly—warm and steady beneath my ribs. Awake. Strong.
“If there’s a way,” I whispered, “let me see him.”
I had foresight—or at least, glimpses of it. But could I push it that far? See across time and distance, all the way to Dust?
I straightened in the bath and closed my eyes.
Instead of sending my fire outward, I drew it inward. Heat spread along my spine and into my thoughts, steady and bright rather than scorching. I reached for foresight, trying to glimpse my future with Lio.
I let the fire thread through memory and possibility, pushing toward distance—toward Dust, toward my brother.
At first, I saw only myself—drying off, stepping into the bedroom, sliding into a nightgown, and settling into bed.
Then the image dissolved into smoke.
Beyond that—nothing.
I pushed harder. The Ember flickered in protest.
I saw myself closing my eyes and falling to sleep.
But I couldn’t see him.
Just darkness. Not death. Not pain. Just a wall.
Frustration surged, hot and sharp. The bathwater rippled with rising heat.
“Why?” I muttered.
Was it distance? Interference? Was someone blocking me? Or was it simply that fate itself refused to show its hand?
I exhaled sharply and forced the Ember to calm before I wore myself out chasing shadows.
With a frustrated sigh, I rose from the tub.
Cool air brushed my skin as water ran down my body. I grabbed a towel quickly—remembering last night.
Azerath had seen me naked. The memory heated my cheeks even now. I didn’t want that embarrassment again.
But as I dried off, my thoughts drifted back to him—earlier, during training, when he’d repaired my torn clothing with a flick of his magic.
The brush of his fingers along my skin. The way his breath had caught. I noticed his eyes darken, the usual golden glow shifting to a deeper orange-red, like a flame hungry for air.
I remembered how my own skin had tingled beneath his touch. How my stomach fluttered in a way that had nothing to do with fear. How my knees trembled. How my pulse had betrayed me.
But he hadn’t tried to kiss me. He had pulled back. That disappointment burned hotter than I cared to admit.
I pressed the towel harder against my hair as if that could scrub the thought away.
“You are going to get yourself into trouble,” I muttered to myself.
Fantasies like that were dangerous.
I needed to focus on Lio.
I wrapped the towel securely around myself and stepped into my room, relief flooding me when I found it empty. No Azerath lounging in that rocking chair, watching over me like some guardian spirit. I quickly slipped into my nightgown and slid beneath the blankets.
Thunder rumbled outside, low and ominous, but exhaustion pulled me under anyway. I lay on the bed and drifted off, the storm’s fury lulling me into uneasy sleep.
When I woke, it was already dark. The rocking chair where Azerath usually sat while I slept was empty, its wooden frame casting long shadows in the dim light. The rain had stopped, but outside, the world was shrouded in inky blackness—no stars, not even a sliver of moon. Lanterns and candles flickered in the main room, their warm glow spilling under the door. I could sense movement out there, a quiet rustle that told me Azerath was up and about.
My heart raced as I got ready: black trousers that fit snugly, a white long-sleeved shirt that wouldn’t catch on branches, and sturdy boots for the journey ahead. I braided my hair tightly, keeping it out of the way, and laid my cloak on the bed along with the sword and my bag. I’d put them on when it was time to leave.
I stepped into the main room and found Azerath on the sofa, hair still damp from his bath. His white tunic clung to his broad shoulders, black pants accentuating the shadowed strength of his frame. A glass of wine balanced casually in his fingers, catching the firelight and sending tiny reflections dancing across the room.
Blink lay curled by the hearth, tail twitching lazily in sleep.
Azerath looked up as I entered, his golden eyes gleaming in the firelight.
“I trust you slept well,” he said. “I heard you snoring.”
“I don’t snore,” I shot back, crossing my arms.
He lifted his glass, amused. “Everyone snores. Even Blink.”
Blink’s ear twitched in protest but she didn’t move.
His gaze swept over me, taking in my outfit. “Looks like you’re ready.”
“I am,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “What have you been doing while I was asleep?”
"I did some scouting near the edge of the forest," he answered, setting his wine down. "Seems the rebels deserted their post. Rain encourages cowardice. But the Imperial Enforcers stood their ground, even at the risk of being struck by lightning. Magnus, it seems, is getting impatient." He stood, unfolding his tall frame with effortless grace. "Come, let's have supper."
With a wave of his hand, the table filled: fresh bread, ripe fruit, wedges of cheese, and roasted lamb that smelled divine, its juices still sizzling faintly. My stomach growled, reminding me how much energy I'd burned during training—and that fight with the enforcers.
Blink stirred at the scent, her ears perking up. I sat down, carving off a portion of lamb and placing it on a plate for her. She padded over, tail wagging, and devoured it gratefully.
“There’s something I need to know,” I said, unable to keep it in any longer. “Why does Magnus want me? What am I to him?”
Azerath took a seat at the head of the table, serving himself some lamb and tearing off a hunk of bread. He chewed thoughtfully before answering.
“Magnus Ironside,” Azerath began, tearing a piece of bread but not eating it, “is the direct descendant of King Hadeon Ironside.”
I frowned. “And I’m supposed to know who that is?”
“The last true King of Aetheria,” he replied. “Before the Emperor seized power.”
My brow creased. “There was a king before the Emperor?”
“Yes.” His tone was calm, but there was an undercurrent beneath it. “Hadeon ruled under the Triune Accord—alongside the Dark Prince of Arcanis and the White Queen of Lunara.”
“And that worked?” I asked skeptically.
“For a time.”
“What happened?”
"King Hadeon Ironside was forced to step down from the Triune Accord. The Dark Prince of Arcanis and the White Queen of Lunara blamed him for the failed attempts to enslave the dragons. During an assembly, with the support of the Dark Prince and the White Queen, General Ycaris Kade staged a coup, overthrowing King Hadeon. Kade was crowned Emperor, and the Empire was born."
I blinked. “In the middle of a political meeting?”
“Power rarely waits for convenience."
"Okay," I said, picking at my food. The history lesson was interesting, but it felt distant, like a story from one of my old story books. "But what does all that have to do with me?"
Azerath's eyes met mine, intense and unblinking. "Magnus wants to use you to gain control of what he believes is rightfully his. He who controls you, controls me. He who kills you, kills me."
My appetite vanished; the lamb tasted like cardboard in my mouth. But I forced myself to eat, bite by bite. I needed the fuel—for my body, for my magic. The Ember stirred faintly in my chest, a reminder of the power I'd unleashed earlier against that enforcer. Hitting him with the Lumenflare had felt... right. Triumphant. But now, thinking of Magnus using me as a pawn? It made my blood boil.
"Will Blink be going with us to Dust?" I asked, changing the subject. I needed something positive to cling to.
"Of course," Azerath said, a hint of a smile touching his lips. "She can fly too, remember?"
I let out a sigh of relief. Blink was more than a companion; she was a ally, fierce and loyal. With her shapeshifting abilities, she could scout ahead, distract enemies. I could count on her for help.
After we finished eating, I stood and draped my cloak over my shoulders. The Dragon Sword rested across my back, and I slung the bag’s strap over my shoulder.
It was time to go.