Chapter 21: Beneath Her Shadow

The sky had not changed since they left the temple.

Still cracked. Still violet. Still bleeding stars that should not exist.

Rael led the group in silence, the ruined road stretching before them like the spine of a forgotten god. Stones floated loosely overhead—chunks of broken moons and shattered monuments, caught in the fractured leyline's pull.

No one spoke much.

Not even Selene, who kept close but didn't touch him again.

Not yet.

Rael's mind was elsewhere—on the seed in his cloak, warm and steady as a second heartbeat. On Hel's voice, still whispering along the edges of thought. And on the cloaked figure who had left no scent, no trace… yet watched.

They were being followed.

He was certain of it.

By midday, they passed through a forest turned to glass.

Trees stood frozen in motion—branches stretched mid-sway, leaves caught in an eternal fall. Light refracted through the crystalline canopy, casting a thousand rainbow ghosts across the ground.

It was beautiful.

And utterly silent.

Caelaris walked with her hand on her sword. "I hate this place."

"It's not natural," Aelthaea agreed. "It's a memory. Preserved by fear."

Selene glanced toward Rael. "You think this was the Watcher's doing?"

"No," Rael said. "This came long before them. But they've been here."

He reached down and picked up a glass petal.

Carved into its edge—barely visible—was a symbol.

A single, vertical eye.

Nyssira's voice was soft. "The Eye That Waits. An old god. Forbidden."

Aelthaea narrowed her gaze. "Didn't he die during the Starfall Rebellion?"

"No," Nyssira murmured. "He simply… closed his eyes."

Rael let the petal fall.

And as it hit the ground—it shattered like silence being broken.

That night, they camped near a hollow spring that ran with black water.

No one drank from it.

Rael stood watch alone, eyes fixed on the horizon. The air was too still.

Selene lay nearby, feigning sleep.

Nyssira sat apart from the others, her gaze fixed not on Rael—but on the fire.

Eventually, she rose and approached him.

He didn't turn.

"You saw," he said simply.

Nyssira nodded once. "Yes."

The wind caught her hair—dark strands dancing like trailing ink.

"You're not jealous," Rael said.

"No."

"But you felt something."

She stepped closer, close enough for her voice to drop. "I've lived a long time, Rael. Seen gods fall in love with mortals, mortals with beasts, kings with monsters. I've seen what desire can do."

He turned, eyes meeting hers.

"And?"

"I'm not afraid of Selene. I'm afraid of you. Of what your affection might become."

He didn't reply.

She continued, voice softer now. "When you touch something… you change it. Burn it. She's strong—but she doesn't know what she's kneeling to."

Rael's eyes flickered. "You think she's kneeling?"

Nyssira smirked faintly. "She will. They all will. The question is… will they still love you once they do?"

There was a long pause.

Then Rael asked, "And you?"

Nyssira's breath hitched—just slightly.

"I haven't decided."

But she didn't move away.

Not yet.

They moved again by morning.

The air was wrong now—thicker, humming faintly with a presence that moved just outside of vision.

The Watcher was closer.

Every hour, they found signs—faint footprints that vanished into stone, markings carved into old ruins, broken feathers too large for birds.

On the third day, they found a body.

It was hanging from a tree made of bone.

Human-shaped. Cloaked. Face missing.

Not ripped off. Erased.

Selene drew a blade. "Message?"

Rael stared up at it. "Invitation."

He turned toward the east, where dark clouds gathered around a jagged spire.

"That's where we're being led."

Aelthaea frowned. "Then why follow?"

Rael's voice was calm.

"Because the one leading us… wants me to see."

That night, they reached the outer ruins of a forgotten city.

Pillars cracked and leaning. Archways bent. Statues melted down to faceless stumps.

Rael stood at the center, hand brushing the top of an ancient sundial. It was engraved with two names—one scratched out, the other left intact.

HEL.

Suddenly—

The wind screamed.

A shriek tore through the sky like glass shattering.

From above, a shape fell—twisting, long-limbed, wings of broken shadow.

Selene was the first to react, leaping back and pulling Caelaris down as the thing crashed onto the plaza with a thunderclap of light.

Aelthaea drew both blades. "Remnant?!"

"No," Rael said, eyes narrowing. "Something worse."

The creature unfurled.

It had no face—just a golden mask fused to flesh, with symbols that pulsed like eyes. Its limbs were too long, its mouth stitched shut with divine thread.

It didn't move.

It waited.

Then, without warning—it lunged.

Rael blocked the first blow. The force sent him sliding back several feet.

The others spread out.

Selene struck next—fast, vicious, her daggers slicing into one of the creature's arms. But it didn't bleed. It only hissed—a sound like burning scripture.

Nyssira raised a hand—and the air shifted.

Memory coiled like smoke, wrapping around the creature.

It paused—snarling silently—then screamed.

That gave Rael an opening.

He thrust his hand forward.

Golden-black flame surged from his palm—not to destroy, but to reveal.

The creature's mask cracked.

And beneath it—

A face.

His own.

Twisted. Hollow. Burned.

Rael recoiled.

The creature faltered—its movements glitching, broken.

Nyssira's voice was steady. "It's a shade. A projection. Something the Watcher created using your future."

Rael's jaw clenched. "Then let me show it what that future really holds."

He stepped forward.

His aura exploded outward—raw, sovereign, divine.

The shade tried to retreat.

Too late.

Rael's blade pierced through its mask, shattering it into light.

The creature collapsed into smoke.

And then—

Silence.

They stood in the ruins, breathing hard.

Aelthaea wiped blood from her cheek.

Caelaris bent over, panting. "What… was that?"

Rael answered without hesitation. "A possibility. A path I won't walk."

Selene glanced at him. "But you could."

He met her eyes. "Yes."

Nyssira watched quietly, gaze unreadable.

Then turned away.

That night, the camp was quiet again.

But not still.

Selene found Rael outside the circle of firelight, seated atop a collapsed column, cloak draped over his shoulder. His back was bare, the faint scars of divine branding still visible beneath his shoulder blades.

She didn't say anything at first.

She just knelt behind him—and placed her hands gently on his shoulders.

"You've carried too much," she murmured.

"More's coming," he replied.

Her fingers traced the lines of his back—slow, curious, reverent.

"But not alone."

She leaned in, lips brushing the back of his neck.

Rael shivered.

"You know I'd follow you anywhere, right?" Selene whispered. "Even into the fire."

He turned.

Their lips met again.

This time slower. Deeper.

Not wild—claiming.

Her body pressed against his, warmth through layers of leather and skin.

She straddled his lap, fingers tangled in his hair, mouth trailing kisses along his jaw, his throat, his collar.

His breath caught.

"You keep doing this," he said, voice low.

"Doing what?" she teased.

"Making me forget who's supposed to be in control."

She smiled against his neck. "That's the point."

But as their bodies tangled, a sound broke the night.

A single footstep.

Selene froze.

Rael looked up.

Nothing.

Only shadows.

Still—

The moment passed.

She slid off him slowly, brushing her lips against his once more.

"We'll finish that another time," she said, eyes gleaming.

Later, as Rael slept, someone approached the fire.

Nyssira.

She didn't speak. Didn't sit.

She only knelt beside where he lay.

Her hand hovered above his chest.

The seed beneath his cloak pulsed—once, twice.

She touched it lightly.

And gasped.

Images flashed through her mind—Hel's voice, Rael's flame, a throne made of mouths, Selene's moan.

She pulled her hand back quickly, breathing fast.

And stared at Rael.

Not with envy.

Not even with desire.

With awe.

Then she turned.

And walked back into the dark.

Far beyond the horizon, a bell rang once—deep and distant.

A divine tone.

And far above, atop a spire of ruin and sky, a cloaked figure stood watching.

Their face was hidden beneath golden veils.

But they smiled.

And turned toward the next gate.