Welcome to Arisven

Velastra didn't move, though every muscle in her body screamed to take flight—toward the sea, toward Arisven, toward him.

But Orion wasn't done. And the weight in his eyes told her this truth wouldn't wait.

"You should understand something before we go," he said. "It wasn't supposed to be possible."

Velastra turned back slowly. "What wasn't?"

Orion exhaled and sat, motioning her to do the same—though she remained standing.

"To bind Cael. Not just spiritually, but through the arcana. That kind of tether… it's forbidden unless blood recognizes blood. That's what makes oath-arcana law. You can't forge it—you must have a right to it."

Her brow furrowed. "Cael though bounded to me by marriage, that doesn't make him tied to our royal bloodline, only to me."

"Yes," Orion agreed. "Unless the king had found way to make him his bloodline."

She walked towards the window. Finally understanding.

Orion's voice was not patient now, "Your father did not simply punish Cael's mother by threatening to send her to a brothel. He also forcely married her in exchange of not sending the Nirhalethian maids with Cael to the brothels. The unity was made through an ancient rite, likely before any decree was made public. No celebration, no audience. Just words and seal."

Velastra staggered back half a step.

"I... I should have known it?"

Orion nodded grimly. "By binding your mother-in-law into the royal bloodline, Cael—her son—became bloodtied to the Blood of Vorelin. Not born of it, but recognized under our arcane laws. That alone allowed your father to use oath-based sorcery on him."

Velastra's voice lowered into something brittle and sharp. "No. This can't be."

Orion's fingers curled over the table's edge. "This was no mere oath sorcery. It was more of a curse."

The word curse lingered in the air like iron in the lungs.

"What he used… was an inversion. An arcane bond that will not only protect himself—twisted into something that punishes you through him. If you will try to sever it… you may lose him altogether."

Velastra's mouth parted but no sound came out.

Orion's voice softened. "It's clever. Cunning. He must have studied forbidden bindings for years to attempt something like this. And it's tailored to you, Velastra. Not just as his daughter, but as the one who treasures Cael above all."

Her hands clenched at her sides, trembling.

"He really does my father," she whispered. "The one who will protect his throne at all cost."

Orion looked up at her—eyes heavy not just with guilt, but sympathy he rarely showed.

"He turned your obsession into a leash."

The words struck deeper than any blade.

Velastra's voice was jagged when she spoke again. "Can it be undone?"

Orion hesitated.

And in that silence, she understood.

"Then we will have to torture our brain later."

She turned without another word.

Behind her, Orion stood, the wind catching his cloak as he murmured low, more to himself than to her:

"Let's go."

---

Five days of salt‑wind and starless nights had brought them to the edge of Arisven's fabled inlet. The sea here boiled with a restless foam, as if the waves themselves murmured of the island's hidden shame- the Cloud Gate, they called it, where no ship or immortal could pass until its mist dissolved.

Orion stood on the prow of their small skiff, robes caught in the spray. He held a vial of glimmering powder in one hand, voice grave:

"This is the lusting pill. It awakens the negative energy Arisven requires—envy, hunger, lust, unfulfilled desire. Without it, the Gate will not see you as welcome."

He offered the vial to Velastra, who steadied herself against the railing. Moonlight glinted on her dark hair, and in her eyes was the single flame of her purpose.

Velastra's lips curved in a slow, mischievous smile. She took the vial but did not raise it to her mouth.

"I won't need this," she said softly. "I will only think of him—of our nights, his breath on my skin, the way he moaned my name—"

She let her voice drop, and the air thickened around them.

Orion frowned, doubtful, he took his pill.

"You think mere memory will suffice?"

"Watch," she replied, stepping off the skiff onto the submerged stones at the water's edge.

She crumbled the pill between her fingers, releasing a pulse of violet light. She closed his eyes—breathing deeply.

She conjured the memory—Cael's gentle worship, the warmth she felt beneath his hands, the taste of devotion on his lips. Inhale. Exhale. Desire swelled in her chest, a slow-growing ache that she let expand without shame.

Before them, the Cloud Gate quivered. The mist peeled back, a silent drumbeat of vapor dissolving into the night breeze.

Orion's eyes snapped open.

"Your Highness… you've done it."

He stared in awe as the arch of cloud lifted entirely, revealing the lantern‑lit quay of Arisven beyond. The island lay bathed in deceptive softness: marble columns entwined with night‑blooming vines, torches flickering along crimson‑draped walkways.

Velastra stepped forward through the open gate, her cloak swirling like spilled ink.

Orion remained fixed on the dwindling mist. Then, at last, he bowed his head.

"I underestimated the power of your obsession."

Velastra did not reply. Her heart thundered with impatient triumph. The entrance to the Cleanest Cage lay before her—and she would see Cael again.

And as the final vapor dispersed, the moonlight shone clear upon the island—welcoming them home, or to war.