Chapter 63: Chapter 63

IRIS

The air was heavy in Antaris when we returned, filled with the suffocating weight of the battle to come.

Avery acted immediately, with the unwavering determination that always humbled me. His first order was to warn the people, while Aidan, being his shadow, was already organizing the relocation of the women and children.

I turned to the Old Ones, whose bony hands clutched at my arms like the last remaining ropes as I led them through the jostling throng to the flickering portals. Their eyes, cloudy with age and fear, pierced me.

They knew what was to come.

Jade’s forehead glistened with tension, her muscles trembling under the strain as she held the dimensional portal open with the other witches. The magic flickered like a dying flame, and every time the gate threatened to go out, one of the guards groaned under the invisible weight of exhaustion.

On the other side stood Bael and Ava, their silhouettes blurred in the strange light of a world that must have seemed like a nightmare to those fleeing. Each child who looked back tore a new wound in my chest.

Not only were they leaving their homes, they were being thrust into an evil we should have spared them.

Bael’s illusions were wrapped around the camp like spider silk, a deceptive web of safety against the greedy forest. My gaze wandered to the Tree of Power, the golden leaves of which now shimmered dully in the faint light, as if they were slowly dying out.

It had waited too long without the presence of its king.

The protective shield around Antaris was little more than a hint, a last whispering promise that could break at any moment. And I knew with a cold certainty that Abaddon had already found us.

He would come, tear everything down, if we were not strong enough.

And we weren’t.

***

Exhaustion weighed on Avery’s shoulders like an invisible coat of iron as he inspected his forces. Brave warriors, but what use was bravery against an enemy that had devoured entire worlds?

Our only hope was to bring the weak to safety, and even that was a struggle, a desperate race against time. Tiredness ate into our bones.

The soldiers, and our friends, even the battle-ready beings who had joined us, all plodded on, their movements slower, their gazes emptier.

And in the middle of the chaos was Alatus, my dragon, whose wings had not left my side once since my return. His scales brushed my shoulder, a constant warm reminder of his closeness.

His thoughts flowed continuously into my mind, a murmur of anger, worry, and a strangely proud consent. He hadn’t forgiven me for going alone, but beneath the grudge pulsed something else, a quiet appreciation that I had come back.

When I led him to the amicus cubs, he lowered his head without argument. His usually fierce claws picked up the young animals carefully, as if they were fragile treasures.

They, too, had to be kept safe, any creature left unbound which might attract Abaddon’s hate.

Avery’s eyes met mine over the heads of those fleeing. Pride…concern.

A silent question cut straight to my heart through our bond. I could taste his fear, not for Antaris, not for victory, but for me.

Nightfall was devouring the last rays of sunlight. We had to hurry.

The soldiers sat exhausted on the ground as I led the last of the refugees through the portal with Aidan. Devas joined us late. His silence was heavier than any armor as he stood at Avery’s side.

His face was not only marked with concern. Something darker, deeper weighed on him, as if he carried an unspeakable guilt on his shoulders.

“You too,” my brother said to his mate in a rough voice.

Inna shook her head, tears flowing down her face. “I’m definitely not leaving,” she said again.

Avery’s presence behind me made me catch my breath, but his words were firm. “I need you to be there, with Bael and Ava, to protect our people,” he said.

But we all knew. Even Aidan, whose eyes shot up to Avery with gratitude. The king sensed every life in Antaris, every single one, even the unborn.

And he would protect them even if it took his own life.

“That’s an order,” he added, his voice breaking, barely audible.

Inna hugged my brother so tightly, as if she could chain him to this world with the sheer weight of her desperation. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice shaking as she cried.

Aidan’s hand lay protectively on her belly, his fingers shaking barely noticeably. “I love you both,” I heard him whisper, and at that moment my heart burned like a glowing ember.

Too many goodbyes on that day. Too many tears seeping into the dust of Antaris.

Aidan forced himself to smile as Inna stepped through the portal. Then she was gone, swallowed up by the strange world. She waved until the gate closed, until nothing was left of her but the trace of her footsteps.

Aidan exhaled deeply, as if breathing out a part of his soul. “Thanks,” he said to Avery, barely more than a breath.

Avery nodded silently, but I could feel it in him, the sadness that was crushing us all. So much had been lost today. Not just homes. Not just land.

But pieces of our souls.

The silence in our room was almost unbearable. These four walls, silent witnesses to my loneliest nights, where I buried myself in pillows and searched for his breath, his warmth.

Now he stood there, his back turned towards me, and there was more than just space between us. There was the memory of all the wounds inflicted on us.

My knees gave way as I sank onto the bed. Every muscle was screaming with exhaustion, but that wasn’t why my hands were shaking.

It was the taste of loss, still bitter on my tongue.

Avery stood motionless by the window, his figure sharp as a blade in the pale moonlight. Antaris beneath us, once pulsing with life, now just an empty vessel awaiting its final downfall.

“We… did good today,” I dared to say, knowing the words sounded empty.

I thought, ~Hopefully, I was more than just another burden today. Hopefully I had really helped him this time.~

Suddenly, he turned around. His brows were drawn together, his eyes blank.

They weren’t those of a king. They were those of a broken man.

“Don’t think that,” he said, his voice rough, as if he had been shouting for hours.

It only took him three steps before the King of Antaris sank to his knees before me, as if he were only human. Just my Avery.

My fingers found his neck immediately, the familiar weight of his head in my hands.

I opened my mouth to say something, but then the first drop hit the back of my hand.

My fingers ran through his hair, while his head remained lowered.

I wanted to speak, but my words stopped when I saw the tears. They were falling.

Silent. Unstoppable. Drop after drop on the cold stone floor.

Then a sob, a choked, broken sound, wrung from his chest. I lifted his face in my hands, and what I saw broke my own heart.

Avery was weeping. Not the silent tears of a king hiding his feelings. No.

These were the sobs of a man who had carried everything inside him for too long. The weight had become too heavy. It had overwhelmed him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice panting with tears.

The words cut me like a knife. I felt everything through our bond, the gnawing pain of my absence, the shame of his failure, the wrenching fear of losing me again.

And even deeper, the unspoken truth. That he would rather sacrifice all of Antaris than see me suffer again.

“You were never my weakness,” he whispered, his hands clutching my waist like a drowning man clutching the last lifeline.

He pulled me off the bed and onto his lap, clutching me so tightly as if I could save him from his doom. “You’re the only thing that keeps me strong,” he added.

He pressed his lips to my forehead and suddenly we both cried.

His tears in my hair, mine on his shoulder. Two souls clinging together in a storm.

At that moment, he wasn’t a king. I wasn’t a savior.

Just two deeply wounded beings who realized how close they were to the edge. All that mattered was his heart beating against mine.

Proof that we were still alive despite everything. We still had a chance.

All I could do was hold him… holding him and crying with him. Because we’d almost lost each other.

We had suffered too much. And as his tears continued to fall relentlessly, I secretly prayed that this broken moment wouldn’t be the end of us.

Because when kings cry, the world has already fallen to pieces.