#75 God Worries

God Worries
Aedryos POV

The corridors of Castle StarFury thrummed with life, its sentient magic pulsing like blood through the veins of a titan. My steps were deliberate, each rune etched wall shifting faintly under my gaze as if the castle itself wished to be read.

Mistmoor lingered on my mind like storm clouds on the horizon. Ryanna’s collapse haunted me, the way she had poured her life force into Maelira, draining herself nearly to death. She was a flame, burning bright and reckless, her youth both her weapon and her undoing.

I had seen empires rise and crumble, gods betray their own children, and mortals swallowed by divine lies. She was but nineteen, yet she commanded six mates, a living castle, and now covens and packs bending at her feet. The gap between us weighed heavily. There was so much she did not yet know, the shadows in Celestara, the cost of power, the traps hidden in prophecy.

The door to Zerathys’s suite opened at my approach, StarFury anticipating me. Inside, the room was warm but sparse, furs over a simple bed, braziers casting gold light. My brother sat cross legged on the floor, still as stone, his massive frame a silhouette of endurance. Shadows etched his skin like living tattoos, gifts of his centuries in the Void.

One silver eye cracked open, dulled by endless darkness but still familiar. “Can I finish, brother?” he rasped, voice rough but amused.

I inclined my head and leaned against the wall, arms crossed, patient. Patience had been beaten into me long ago in Celestara’s courts, where time bent and gods played with eternity. Ze breathed deep, centering himself. Minutes passed, the castle’s hum syncing with him. At last, he exhaled and rose, gesturing to two chairs by the window. “What troubles you, brother?”

I sank into the chair, immortality pressing heavy on my shoulders. “Ryanna,” I said simply. “She’s fierce, a storm wrapped in mortal skin. But her passion blinds her to the long game. She doesn’t know the traps gods weave, the way loyalty can cut deeper than any blade. She nearly killed herself saving Maelira.”

Ze’s scarred hands folded in his lap. “The young burn hot and fast. You forget, you were once the same. Do you not recall the Rebellion of the Stars? You charged into war without thought for centuries ahead.”

A dry laugh escaped me. “True enough.” My smile faded. “But Ryanna is more than reckless. She is demi-god. Her power draws me in, and terrifies me. I would protect her from mistakes I know too well.”

Ze leaned forward, eyes sharp. “And this draining her life force? That is folly even for gods.”

I told him of Mistmoor. The vampire’s knife. Ryanna’s silver magic flooding Maelira. The shield she’d raised that even her mates could not breach, until I shattered it. “Her demi-god blood amplifies everything. But she is untrained. We need the soul-binding ritual. Without it, she’ll break herself before the gods even strike.”

Ze’s gaze sharpened. “The seven-pointed star ritual. I heard whispers in the Void. Selunara’s gaze. Blood and soul tied for six months. Trials of Strength, Heart, Fear. The gods fear it more than armies.”

I listed the ingredients, moondust, phoenix ash, starbloom petals, dragon’s tear, voidroot, wyrm scale, siren’s breath. The pentacle of salt. Seven candles. Blood, vows, the chant. “By Selunara’s light, by star and flame, we bind our souls, our hearts the same. Seven as one, through trials we stand, our power united, by blood and hand.” And the seal, mating under the full moon, stars etched beneath our eyes.

Ze rubbed his chin, scars flickering. “Unity and vulnerability in one. The trials will twist each of you, tempt, and break if you falter. And Galrith is nothing but a puppet. Celestara’s true hands move the board.”

We talked forever. He told me of the Void, endless dark, whispers of forgotten entities, bargains struck with shadowed beings who loathed the gods as much as we did. His escape had cost him parts of his soul. I spoke of Celestara’s betrayals, of Aelthoria’s chains, of my own imprisonment in StarFury’s depths until Ryanna freed me.

He asked of my brothers in bond. I told him. Kaelan is golden fire, reckless and loyal. Lucien is shadowed and possessive. Rhydor and his, strength like a fortress wall. Darian, his sharp mind ever calculating. Dryke, the dragon arrogance burning hot. “Together, they balance her. The ritual will bind us tighter. But the gods will strike our weaknesses first.”

Ze nodded slowly. “Then let me stand with you. My Void scars may yet shield against their interference.”

Gratitude swelled in me. “You’d risk it?” He clapped my shoulder, grip solid. “We’re blood. And this queen of yours? She’s worth the fight.”

We laughed for a time, remembering starfields and rebellions, the reckless days before betrayal. But then StarFury’s hum shifted, a tug in my chest pulling me to her.

“She’s awake,” I murmured. Starfire flared at my snap, and I stood in her chamber. Her mates jumped, Kaelan yelped, Lucien’s shadows lashed, Rhydor’s axe lifted, Darian’s pistol half-drawn.

“What the hell!” Kaelan barked. I stood calm in their storm. On the bed, Ryanna stirred, her lashes fluttering open, green eyes hazy with exhaustion but alive. Relief and confusion mingled in her gaze as the star pulsed between us.