Chapter 63 Veilbreaker
Magnus
I had kept my distance from the girl for as long as I could track her trail.
She moved carefully. There was instinct in her decisions—sharp turns, sudden pauses, the way she avoided open streets. It made her difficult to follow without revealing myself.
And then, at the worst possible moment, she vanished.
I stopped at the end of a narrow alley, my jaw tightening as I scanned the empty path ahead. No footprints. No sound.
A dead end.
For a brief second, frustration broke through the control I kept so carefully in place. I had been close—close enough to feel the shift in the air around her, close enough to sense the faint echo of something ancient tied to her presence.
And now she was gone.
“The girl you’re looking for is upstairs. On the roof. But I must warn you, she is no little girl."
The voice came from behind me. I turned immediately.
The Mistress stepped out from the shadows as if she had always been there. Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were alert, watching me closely.
“Elara is searching for you,” I said. “She’s injured. She needs stitches.”
She gave a short, dismissive scoff. “Elara took all my coins and put me in her debt,” she said, her tone sharp with irritation. “This will remind her not to cross me again.”
I studied her for a moment.
Nyxara was reckless. Useful, but reckless. She understood risk, but she did not respect consequence. That would catch up to her eventually, and when it did, no one would intervene—not even me.
“You said the girl is on the roof?” I asked.
“Yes, my lord," she replied, pointing toward a narrow staircase bolted to the side of a crumbling brick house. The metal railing was rusted and partially bent, barely stable.
I followed her gaze, then started toward it without another word.
Each step I took upward was measured and quiet. The structure creaked faintly under my weight, but I adjusted my footing to minimize sound. By the time I reached the top, I could already hear voices.
One male. One female. Both familiar.
Andreas and Elyndra.
I stilled just before the opening, remaining out of sight as I listened.
What I heard made me pause.
Elyndra wanted to help the dragon binder.
More than that—she spoke of the dragon as if she knew it. Not in theory. Not from study.
As if they had history. As if they had known each other.
That was not possible.
The dragon had been asleep for centuries. No record suggested otherwise. No account hinted at waking, movement, or contact.
And yet she spoke with certainty.
How could that be?
There were only a few possibilities, and none of them were acceptable.
Longevity through forbidden magic. Preservation through relic binding.
Or something older—something tied to forces even the Empire had failed to fully document.
What kind of magic allows a person to outlive centuries… and remain unchanged?
I exhaled slowly, setting the question aside. Speculation could wait. Action could not.
I stepped forward just as Elyndra reached for her orb.
Her arm extended toward Andreas. His hand moved to meet hers.
Teleportation.
I didn’t give them the chance.
“Arcanavinc.”
The word left my mouth cleanly, without strain.
The effect was immediate.
Both of them froze—not physically at first, but in the way their magic reacted. The connection snapped before it could form. Elyndra’s orb flickered, then dimmed. Andreas’s hand stopped inches from hers.
Then the realization hit.
Elyndra pulled back sharply, her expression tightening. Andreas turned, already searching for the source.
Their eyes landed on me. Surprised.
Good.
I stepped fully onto the roof.
I dismissed the Mistress before she could entangle herself further in my affairs. She dealt in secrets, and I would not allow mine to become her advantage. The more she knew, the more leverage she gained.
“You may leave,” I said without looking at her.
My tone left no room for negotiation.
She hesitated, just briefly. Then she exhaled sharply, turned, and descended the stairs.
The moment she was gone, the space settled.
Just the three of us.
I walked toward them at an even pace.
The binding had already taken hold. I could feel it—tightening around their access to magic, closing pathways, suppressing response. Not permanent, but absolute for now.
“Andreas,” I murmured, lifting a single finger to his chin and tilting his head upward just enough to meet my gaze. I did not rush the movement. I wanted him to feel the intent behind it—the control, the certainty. “You should have run farther than this. You had time. You always plan ahead, always calculate outcomes. And yet you chose to remain within reach. You should have disappeared completely. Gone somewhere even I would not bother to look.”
His blue eyes met mine without hesitation. They had not changed. Decades had passed, alliances had shifted, entire bloodlines had risen and fallen, and yet his gaze remained the same—measured, steady, unwilling to yield.
“You’ve spent years proving that distance doesn’t matter to you,” he said evenly. “You always find what you’re looking for. Running would not have changed the outcome. It would have delayed it.”
A faint smile touched my lips. “Delay can be the difference between survival and extinction,” I replied. “You, of all people, understand that. And yet here you are.”
I let the silence stretch for a moment before continuing.
“Lead me to the Valen boy,” I said, my voice quiet but firm, each word placed with precision. “Tell me where he is, and this ends cleanly. I take what I came for, and what remains of your name stays intact. Refuse me, and I will make an example of it. Every descendant tied to you will be marked, publicly and permanently. They will be named traitors to the Empire. Their records will be erased, their protections stripped, their existence reduced to a cautionary tale. Not one of them will be spared. Not one will be remembered.”
There it was—a flicker. Brief, controlled, but present.
Anger.
“You’ve always preferred to threaten what others value most,” Andreas said, his tone steady but edged now with something harder. “Bloodlines, legacies, names. You destroy them to prove a point, to remind everyone that power sits with you alone. This is not new. It’s a pattern. One you’ve followed for years.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “You did the same with Helena. She was never part of your world, never involved in any of this, and yet you chose to remove her anyway.”
At the sound of her name, I felt my chest tighten.
“I loved Helena,” I said. The words came without hesitation, but I felt the weight of them as I spoke. “I believed she understood what I was trying to build. I believed she saw the same future I did—a world shaped by knowledge, not blind inheritance. I gave her access to things no one outside the inner circles had ever seen. I trusted her with it.”
“And she didn’t choose you,” Andreas replied.
I held his gaze. “She used me,” I said. “She took what I offered—my knowledge of the dragons, of Celestia, of the history buried beneath the Empire—and she used it to uncover truths that were never meant to surface without control. I thought she would leave Godwin. I thought she would see reason. That she would stand beside me when the time came.”
“And when she didn’t,” Andreas pressed, “you decided she had no right to live with what she knew.”
“I decided she had become a liability,” I corrected, my tone even. “There is a difference.”
Elyndra fidgeted uncomfortably behind him, but I did not look at her. This conversation belonged to Andreas and me.
“And what about the rest of it?” Andreas continued, his voice tightening now, no longer purely controlled. “Was that calculation too? The promises you made after? Or are you going to pretend those never existed?”
I said nothing.
He took that as permission to continue.
“You wanted validation,” he said. “Not just power—validation. You wanted proof that your bloodline meant something, that your ancestor’s claim to Aetheria wasn’t just a story buried in forgotten records. You wanted the truth brought into the open so you could shape it, control it, use it.” His jaw tightened. “And when Helena refused to be part of that, when she rejected you, rejected your offer to make her queen beside you, rejected the idea of pulling her daughter into your plans—you turned on her.”
“That is your interpretation,” I said.
“It’s the only one that fits,” he replied. “You don’t tolerate rejection. You remove it.”
I let out a quiet breath, more out of patience than restraint.
“You’re still looking at this as if it were personal,” I said. “It was not. Helena made a choice that placed her outside the structure I was building. Once she stepped outside it, she became unpredictable. And unpredictability, in my position, is not something I can allow.”
“And Arclight?” Andreas asked. “Was that also just structure? Strategy? Or are you willing to admit that you were desperate enough to make deals with men like him?”
At that, I allowed a faint smile. “Careful,” I said. “You’re assuming I regret the alliances I’ve made.”
“You promised him the boy,” Andreas said, his voice low now, controlled again but carrying more weight. “You promised him you would deliver the Valen child in exchange for the assassination of Godwin and the Emperor. You set that in motion. Don’t pretend this is about stability or order. This is ambition, Magnus. Nothing more.”
“Ambition is not a flaw,” I replied. “It is a requirement.”
“It becomes a flaw when it consumes everything else.”
“It becomes power,” I corrected. I stepped slightly closer, lowering my voice. "Enough of this. The past has already served its purpose. Helena and Godwin are gone. Arclight has his own interests, as do I. None of that changes what stands in front of us.”
I held his gaze, unblinking.
“This is about the Binder,” I continued. “It is about the dragon she commands, the sword that has yet to surface, and the position that will be claimed when all of it converges. That is the only context that matters now. Everything else is already decided.”
Elyndra let out a quiet, humorless laugh behind him, but I ignored it.
“Andreas,” I said, returning my full attention to him, “you already understand how this ends. So I’ll ask you again—clearly, directly, without distraction.”
I paused, just long enough to make the question land.
“Where is the Valen boy?”
Before Andreas could speak, Elyndra laughed softly—high and musical, sharp with scorn, carrying the unmistakable thrill of recognition. She knew what I knew. Knew what I intended.
“Magnus, the dragon will not answer to you,” she said. “Nor will his new dragon binder. She has anger in her heart. If willing, she could use him to destroy the Empire. The world is about to see change.”
Elyndra was right.
And I would ensure that every move, every decision, every action bent to my control.
I leaned closer to Andreas. “Your Valen boy. He is the key I need. And you will tell me where he is.”
Andreas shook his head. “You forget,” he said quietly, “Celestials choose their own destiny.”
I laughed. “No, old friend. You forget. Destiny is written in blood. My blood. And I intend to claim it all.”
The binding around him tightened slowly, forcing him to his knees on the rooftop. Elyndra could not help him. She tried, but I increased my hold.
“Now,” I said, voice low and calm, “shall we begin again?”
Andreas met my gaze with fury that belied his age. “Do what you will,” he said. “I will never betray him.”
Very well.
"Velarix."
With a flick of my hand, the rooftop beneath him split along precise fractures, runes forming along the cracks. The air thickened, heavy with power. Elyndra gasped. Andreas stiffened. The ritual circle activated, resonating across the surface we occupied.
I would see what I needed. I would find the boy.
“Where is the boy?” I asked as the Veilbreaker rose around us, threads of light locking into place. “Or I will find out through every fragment of your mind.”
“This is forbidden, Magnus,” Andreas said, calm but wary.
I smiled slowly. “What the Empire does not know will not hurt them. But what I intend, Andreas, will reshape the Empire itself. With me on the throne.”
His eyes widened slightly, panic surfacing.
I stepped back. He could no longer flee. He could no longer hide the boy. He could no longer defy me.
The city below remained distant and chaotic, but here, on the roof, everything was contained.
Everything was aligned.
I looked at Andreas, kneeling, restrained but unbroken. Satisfaction rolled over me. He had always been precise. Always careful. But no one could outrun me forever.
Not even him.
Elyndra stood tense behind him, powerless and afraid. She would learn soon enough that she could not interfere with what I had set in motion.
Here, on this rooftop, history waited. And I would write it.