Chapter 56 THE WARDENS SON
“Come to me… my son.”
The voice rolled through stone and marrow alike, low and vast, as if the earth itself had learned how to speak.
Selene felt it before she saw it. The pressure, the wrongness, and the way her teeth vibrated against each other. She turned just as the warden emerged fully into view beyond the shattered tree line.
It rose from the torn ground like smoke forced into flesh. Massive and I ndistinct at first, then clearer. Limbs stretched and shaped themselves, long and jagged, edges sharp as if molten stone had cooled unevenly in shadow.
Its body radiated heat without flame, power without motion. And its eyes glowed amber, ancient and patient.
When they fixed on the tower, a vibration rolled outward. Soldiers staggered and shields slipped from numb hands. Somewhere in the forest, something alive whimpered and fled.
Athalia lifted higher into the air.
Her feet left the stone floor completely now. Her hair streamed around her face, caught in an unseen current, and her eyes glimmered brighter than before like it no longer wholly was hers.
“I hear you,” she said, voice calm, almost tender. “Father.”
The word struck Selene like a blade.
“No,” Selene snapped, stepping forward. “Athalia, listen to me. That thing is not...”
The warden’s voice came again, layered over hers, beneath hers, through everything. “Come to me… my son.”
Athalia’s lips parted in a soft breath of wonder. She drifted toward the open window as though drawn by invisible strings, the pull undeniable, and irresistible.
“He’s calling us,” Athalia murmured, awe trembling through her words. “Calling me.”
Selene’s mind raced, thoughts colliding, tearing at each other. She had studied pacts and bindings, the echoes of power children could inherit when magic twisted bloodlines but never this. Never a child answering something older than the land itself.
Adrian lay unmoving on the floor.
“Athalia,” Selene said sharply, fear cracking through her control, “whosoever it is, it is not a friend. It’s a force. You cannot answer it.”
The warden raised one massive hand.
The ground answered immediately.
Stone groaned and the tower shuddered. A slab along the inner wall split cleanly, dust and fragments raining down the stairwell in a violent cascade.
Outside, soldiers dropped to their knees as if struck by an unseen fist. Weapons clattered uselessly to the ground. Breath left lungs in choking gasps as pressure bore down on them from every direction.
Captain Caleb shouted, his voice raw. “Form ranks! Shields! Stand your...”
The sound died in the trembling air.
Hale seized his arm. “It’s useless!” he yelled. “Nothing we have can stop this!”
Inside, Selene staggered as another pulse rippled through the room. Her eyes darted between Athalia and Adrian.
“I need to contain her,” Selene whispered. “Now.”
Athalia pressed closer to the window, the night wind roaring around her. “Come to me, Father,” she said clearly. “My son waits for you.”
The tower screamed.
Not metaphorically but stone shrieked as if alive. A deep crack split the outer wall, one slab tearing away as though ripped by invisible claws. The force of the child’s power pulsed outward in waves, slamming into Selene and hurling her against the wall.
She reached for the globe at her waist.
The energy struck it from her hand.
The crystal skidded across the floor, spinning uselessly out of reach.
“No,” Selene breathed.
Beyond the tower, the warden rose higher, its form shifting, growing, eyes locked on the floating Queen. Trees bent toward it, trunks bowing as if acknowledging a sovereign older than roots and soil.
“I don’t understand,” Selene cried, voice shaking. “The child is answering directly and this isn’t how binding should work!”
Lira, who had been frozen near the wall, dragged herself forward on shaking arms. “Your Highness,” she pleaded, voice breaking. “Please. This isn’t you. Fight it.”
Athalia looked down at her.
For a terrifying, fragile moment recognition flickered across her face. Her glow dimmed. Her brows knit.
Then something vast rolled through her eyes and erased it.
“I cannot stop it,” Athalia said quietly. “He is here. I must go.”
Lira collapsed, clutching the stone floor. “Madam Selene,” she sobbed. “Please… someone has to stop this.”
The warden stretched its hand farther.
The air thickened, turning heavy, and viscous. Leaves, dust, and debris spiraled violently upward. Soldiers outside groaned, dragged inches across the ground toward the tower by a pull that made every instinct scream to flee.
Then the tower trembled again but harder.
A low, vibrating hum echoed from the cracks in the walls down into the foundation itself. Stones rained from the ceiling. The floor beneath Athalia splintered, reacting to the surge of power from her womb.
Selene screamed and lunged. “No! You can’t...”
Athalia shot forward.
The force expelled from her body struck like a storm. Adrian, half-conscious, reached for her and was flung backward into the wall with brutal force. His body went limp as he collapsed again.
Silence fell abrupt and absolute.
The wind stopped. The trembling ceased. Even the warden paused midair, suspended, but waiting. Then it withdrew and returned down.
Selene stood shaking, chest heaving. She stared at Athalia then toward the distant presence she could no longer see.
“What have you done?” she whispered.
Her hands moved before her mind caught up.
Words older than the tower, older than the crown, tore from her throat. A spell her parents had sworn never to use unless the cost no longer mattered.
Light snapped into place.
A vial of shimmering force sealed the open window. Athalia froze midair, her forward motion halted as if she had struck invisible glass.
She screamed then not in power, but in fury.
“No!” she cried, striking the barrier again and again.
The glow dimmed and her strength faltered.
Then she went still and fainted, her body sinking gently to the bed beneath her.
Outside, dawn crept across the forest.
Mist curled around the tower, swallowing the ground. Soldiers remained where they were, eyes wide, weapons lifted by trembling hands. No one spoke and no one dared.
The earth shook once more, not violently, but deliberately. But no one questioned it.
Inside, Selene crouched against the wall, staring at Athalia. The Queen floated inches above the mattress now, eyes glowing faintly, fixed on the horizon even in unconsciousness.
“Selene,” Athalia whispered suddenly, voice soft, almost herself again. “Help me.”
“I can’t,” Selene said, rising slowly. “If I let you leave this tower, you will die. Or worse.”
Athalia’s lips curved faintly.
When she spoke again, the voice was not entirely hers.
“I command you,” she said calmly, “to let me go.”
Selene swallowed hard. Her fingers tightened around her notebook, knuckles white. She had studied the signs, the energies and the impossible mathematics of this pregnancy.
And she had been lying.
Athalia’s gaze softened as she looked at Selene, as if she knew.
A groan sounded from the far side of the room.
Adrian stirred, blinking. “Athalia?” he rasped. “What’s happening?”
“You must stay still,” Selene said quickly. “The child… it’s almost time.”
“Almost time?” Adrian frowned. “For what?”