Chapter 44: Chapter 44

IRIS

The fleeting joy of Ava’s successful rescue was brutally crushed the moment we stepped through the portal.

A terrible certainty clawed at my chest. Something horrific had happened, tearing through me like a blade, shredding my heart to pieces.

King Elior’s portal stood open, a glistening crack in the air, pulsating like a wound.

A stream of people rushed through, stumbling, bleeding, with torn armor and empty stares. Too many were carried. Bodies that could no longer move themselves, arms hanging limply over the shoulders of those who still had the strength to escape.

Their cries hung in the air, a suffocating tangle of pain and despair. Every breath smelled of iron, sweat, and fear.

The ground beneath us was sticky with blood, a dark carpet that held each step in a painfully slow pace.

Men and women whose faces I knew, whose laughter I could still hear, staggered through the gap in the light, some on their own two feet, most half-broken, dragged by friends who could barely stand themselves.

Each and every one of them was proof.

That we’d lost. And the worst of it?

We didn’t know how many hadn’t made it.

Before us stretched a nightmare.

Warriors lay broken, their agonized screams and moans twisting the air into a symphony of suffering.

The portal had opened directly in front of the mansion, revealing a sea of wounded… bodies strewn across the ground, healers rushing desperately between them, their hands slick with blood.

Ava collapsed the moment we arrived, her strength spent. Jade and Noah immediately carried her away for treatment, their faces tight with fear.

But Avery and I remained frozen beside Devas, our feet rooted to the earth as the horror unfolded around us.

Where did we even begin?

Everywhere, screams. A relentless, echoing chorus of pain.

Too much blood. It wasn’t just on the healers’ hands.

It drenched the soil of Antaris, staining the earth a grotesque, suffocating crimson.

Every step we took felt like wading through the wounds of our own people. The air was thick with the metallic stench of blood, the salt of tears.

And yet… beneath the despair, something else stirred.

A silent, unyielding will.

“Bael!” Devas’ voice shattered our stupor as he sprinted forward.

Avery’s fingers tightened around mine, and we followed, pushing through the sea of suffering until…

“Alatus?!” My voice cracked. “AIDAN!!” I screamed out loud.

So much death. So much loss.

And I couldn’t see them anywhere.

My bond with Alatus was faint, but still there—he was alive. But hurt? Dying? No… he couldn’t be.

A sickening realization slammed into me.

Our rescue had gone smoothly because the creatures had turned their full fury on our warriors.

They had sacrificed themselves… thrown themselves into the worst of the battle, just to buy us time to save Ava.

“ALATUS! AIDAAAAN!”

My scream tore from my throat, raw with terror.

Visions of their broken bodies flashed behind my eyes, shattered armor, bloodied faces, lifeless eyes.

Then, a voice, weak but unmistakable.

~I’m here, my Iris,~ it said in my head.

Alatus.

I spun round in a flash to where I felt him. As if an invisible hand had grabbed my shoulder and turned me round.

He stood beside Bael, his head resting against the warrior’s shoulder in exhausted solace.

I crashed into him, my hands clutching at his chest, his arms… real, solid, alive. His heartbeat thundered under my fingertips, his breath warm against my skin.

Relief flooded me, so violent it nearly brought me to my knees. His claws wrapped around me, holding me just as desperately.

But then… My brother.

A fresh wave of terror seized me. My entire body trembled.

Alatus felt it instantly.

His claw cradled the back of my head, his voice soft but urgent.

~I saw him go through the portal. Your brother is safe, my Iris. He’s here somewhere.~ A pause, then firmer: ~Breathe. We’ll find them all,~ added Alatus.

Devas was speaking to Bael, confusion sharp in his tone.

Bael wasn’t responding. He just muttered under his breath, his eyes hollow.

“I couldn’t help him… I wanted to… It was too late… They killed him… I should have stayed. But I had to evacuate the injured…” he spat.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Devas gripped Bael’s shoulders. “Who was killed? BAEL!”

Bael turned slowly, as if weighed down by the world, his gaze landing first on Devas, then Avery. His eyes were ruined.

Guilt. Grief. A pain so deep it was physical.

Then, he collapsed to his knees.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “He’s dead.”

“Who’s dead, Bael?!” Devas demanded.

Bael’s voice shattered the air.

“THE KING IS DEAD!” Bael cried out, his voice trembling with mourning.

Silence. Absolute, suffocating silence.

Avery stopped breathing. His face went blank, his lips parted in stunned disbelief.

His body swayed, as if the words had physically struck him.

“My father is… Bael, are you sure? Maybe…maybe we can still save him?” Avery asked, breathing heavily.

His voice was a broken thing, clinging to a sliver of hope.

Devas stepped forward, his own voice thick with grief as he pointed to the withered, blackened tree in the distance.

“The Lignum Virtutis… the Tree of Power tied to the King of Antaris… it has faded. I’m sorry, my prince… but your father is gone,” Devas whispered.

Avery broke.

His knees gave out.

I barely caught him as he crumpled against me, his body wracked with sobs.

His tears burned against my skin, his hands clutching at me like I was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Memories of King Elior flooded him—his father’s proud smile, his warm embrace, the way his eyes lit up whenever he spoke of his son.

A lifetime of love, gone in an instant.

His pain pierced through me like a blunt dagger.

I felt it, literally, this tearing, choking sensation spreading through my own chest, as if his broken heart was now mine too.

Avery knelt there, stiff as a sword being rammed into the ground, but inside… he died.

His father. King Elior.

Not abandoned on some battlefield but murdered.

Sneakily wiped out while we fought for Ava.

Guilt ate him alive.

I saw it in his gaze…this stunned emptiness, as if his mind kept trying to undo the truth.

A brief twitch of his fingers, as if he were trying to hold on to something that had long since crumbled to ashes.

“He shouldn’t have been alone,” he whispered once, so softly that only I could hear.

His voice was scratched with tears he could no longer cry.

And then… the rage. An icy chill that coursed through our bond.

Not the wildfire I’d expected, but something much worse: scorching cold, perfect thoughts of revenge.

I pressed my hand against his chest, as if I could hold back the black tide inside him. But how do you hold back an ocean?

“You are not alone,” I breathed against his skin. “I’m carrying it with you. Always.”

He trembled… once, violently, like a tree that wouldn’t survive the last storm.

Then he clasped my wrist so tightly it hurt.

Do not let go. Never let go.

I held him tighter, my own tears falling freely.

“Oh, Avery… I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

Around us, the wounded watched in solemn silence. No hatred. No blame. Just shared grief.

Devas’s voice was quiet but firm.

“You have to be strong now. That’s what he would have wanted. There are still many who need help… my king,” Devas said in a soft voice.

Avery shuddered at the title—his title now.

Then, slowly, he straightened. He wiped his face, took a steadying breath, and commanded, “Organize the healers. Distribute the supplies. Tend to the wounded.”

Within moments, healers were organized, supplies distributed, the wounded tended to with ruthless efficiency.

He didn’t stop… couldn’t stop, until every last person was cared for.

And I stayed by his side, working alongside him, feeling the weight of his grief in every glance he stole at the blackened tree.

Between the wounded, a familiar face finally appeared. Aidan.

My brother stood among the healers, his Inna beside him, tending to the injured.

The relief that crashed over me was so strong I nearly stumbled. I ran.

He caught me in a crushing hug before I could speak, his own relief palpable.

Then, his hand settled on Avery’s shoulder. His voice was thick with sorrow.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Avery. Your father… he treated me like his own. He was an honorable man,” I heard Aidan say.

Avery didn’t speak. He just nodded. He knew Aidan meant every word.

After our parents died, King Elior had been the only family Aidan had left, too.

“We should…” Avery began, his voice rough.

“Stick together,” Aidan finished softly. “Together, we’re strong.”

Avery inhaled sharply, as if the words had pierced through the numbness.

“And as we stood there, surrounded by the wounded, the grieving, the remnants of a battle we never should have had to fight… I realized something.”

“We were still standing.”

“Abaddon had taken so much from us. Our strength. Our safety. Our king.”

“These wounds would never fully heal. But we would carry them together.”

Avery’s hand found mine, his grip bone-crushing, as if he could shield us both from the pain with sheer will.

His eyes met mine, and in them, I saw the same vow I felt in my own heart.

“This wasn’t over. Abaddon wasn’t done with us.”

I could feel it.