Chapter 26: The Wound That Hungers

The ground had begun to bleed long before they reached it.

The stone beneath Rael's boots was slick with a black-red sheen—not wet, not fresh, but living. Like the wound had never truly closed. The air buzzed with a scent thicker than blood, older than rot. It clung to the skin, seeped into the lungs, and hummed beneath the flesh.

Before them yawned a gash in the land—a fissure two hundred meters wide, descending into lightless depths. No birds circled it. No beasts wandered near. Even the wind chose to veer away.

It was not a place of death.

It was a place that ate death.

Selene squinted over the ledge. "What in the name of every damned throne is that?"

"Divine blood," Aelthaea murmured. "From an ancient one who tried to remake the world."

Rael stepped forward. "And failed."

"No," she corrected. "They succeeded. The world was remade. But the cost… it broke something deeper than time."

They set up camp just shy of the fissure's edge.

Vaelith knelt, placing her palm on the moss-blackened ground. "There's something pulsing beneath. Not power. Not life. Something in between."

Nyssira stood apart, her cloak pulled close, eyes half-lidded.

She hadn't spoken much since Rael returned from Shaevari's trial.

Rael noticed.

And approached her.

"You're quiet again."

Nyssira didn't look at him. "You keep adding queens to your orbit."

"Not because I chase them," he said.

"No," she replied, voice soft. "Because they fall toward you."

He studied her face.

"You're not angry."

She finally met his gaze.

"I'm afraid."

That caught him off guard. "Of what?"

Nyssira's voice dropped to a whisper.

"That I want you more than I thought possible. And that when I finally offer myself, I'll be just… another."

Rael reached for her hand.

She didn't pull away.

"You're not another," he said. "You're the one I wait for. Even when I don't know I'm waiting."

She looked at their joined hands.

Then stepped forward.

And kissed him.

Not as surrender.

But as permission.

The moment their lips parted, the wound pulsed.

A wave of pressure swept across the land, rippling the trees.

Everyone turned.

From the center of the fissure, a column of black flame erupted—silent, searing, spiraling skyward.

At its base, something moved.

Not walked. Not slithered.

Shifted.

A shape climbed up the sides of the fissure. No limbs. No body.

Just hunger.

Rael stepped forward, drawing his blade.

Selene moved beside him, smirking. "You really know how to pick romantic spots."

The shape formed into something humanoid—vaguely feminine, made of writhing tendrils and molten veins of divine ichor. Its head split open like a blooming flower of bone and teeth.

It shrieked.

Not aloud.

In their minds.

Vaelith fell to one knee. Aelthaea staggered. Even Caelaris gritted her teeth.

Rael stood firm.

He stepped forward.

And the creature paused.

Then bowed.

A single tendril extended toward the fissure—inviting.

The fifth seed waited.

But not without cost.

Rael moved forward, one measured step at a time. The tendril pulsing from the fissure didn't strike—didn't flinch. It only waited.

"What is it doing?" Selene asked.

"Testing," Vaelith murmured, rising to her feet. "That isn't a creature. It's a memory. A shard of a god that refused to die."

Rael glanced at her. "Is it sentient?"

"Yes," Aelthaea answered. "But not in the way we understand it. This thing was born from divine regret. It doesn't think. It remembers. And it wants others to remember it too."

The ground beneath him cracked.

Rael turned back toward the others. "Don't follow."

Selene's face twitched with resistance, but she held her place.

Only Nyssira took a step forward, as if reflexively. But when he looked at her, she froze.

He smiled faintly. "You already chose me. Let me answer."

Then he stepped off the edge.

And fell.

The descent into the fissure was not made of air.

It was made of thought.

He fell through memories that were not his.

— A battlefield of stars and screaming gods.

— A goddess torn in half by her own priesthood.

— A golden-skinned boy clutching a crown he had never earned.

Each fragment flashed across his vision like the beating of a heart.

He landed not with impact—but stillness.

At the bottom of the wound was a shrine.

No, not a shrine.

An altar.

Built from bones that wept gold. Surrounded by chains made of starlight. At its center pulsed a seed unlike the others—this one was jagged, obsidian black, and bleeding smoke.

Rael reached for it—

And a hand stopped him.

Not physical.

But forceful.

"What will you give?"

The voice echoed in the marrow of his soul.

Rael straightened.

"I've given blood."

"Blood is cheap."

"I've given loyalty."

"Loyalty is fragile."

"I've given myself."

Silence.

Then—

"Then give what you've never dared to."

Rael's heart pounded.

He knew what it meant.

He knelt.

And spoke a name he had never uttered aloud.

"My mother."

The chamber shuddered.

"My shame."

The air turned colder.

"My fear… that I am not enough for them. For her. For me."

The seed pulsed once.

And flew into his chest.

Above, the others felt it.

A shockwave of emotion. Pure. Unfiltered.

Nyssira gasped and collapsed to one knee, tears suddenly burning in her eyes. Selene grabbed her chest. Even Shaevari, watching from the veil between worlds, flinched as if someone had seen her heart.

Then Rael rose from the fissure.

Not climbed.

Rose.

Lifted by a spiral of golden-black fire and molten memory, the fifth seed burning in his chest.

His eyes met theirs.

But it was Nyssira he turned to first.

And opened his arms.

She ran to him.

And kissed him again.

But this time it was more.

Deeper.

Willing.

She pulled back just enough to whisper, "I'm yours."

Rael leaned his forehead against hers. "You always were."

That night, they didn't sleep close to the fissure.

They slept far from it.

Rael sat alone near the fire.

Until Selene joined him, uncharacteristically quiet.

"You looked like her," she said. "When you rose. Like Hel."

"She left something behind in me," Rael said. "And it's waking."

"You think you'll become her?"

"No," he said. "I think I'll become the thing she couldn't."

Selene leaned on him. "That scares me."

"It scares me too."

She wrapped her arm around his.

"But I'm not going anywhere."

And neither was Nyssira.

She sat apart, watching the flames flicker in her reflection.

Something had shifted.

Not just in him.

In her.

She no longer felt like an outsider.

She felt like a queen waiting to be claimed.

And tomorrow, she would make sure Rael understood what that meant.

In the far distance, hidden beyond the veil, Shaevari watched it all through a mirrored shard.

She whispered into the dark.

"You rise faster than I expected, Rael Vayashura."

Her smile was sharp.

And possessive.