Chapter five: A Monstrous Pact

I left with Arren, the silence between us as heavy and suffocating as the velvet drapes in the royal court. I could see the conflict warring in his eyes, a storm of duty, resentment, and fear, not just over what I had done, but what it meant for all of us. Maybe I felt it too, a quiet tremor beneath the ice of my resolve, though I wouldn't admit it.

Father wasn't a monster. Not in a simple way the stories portray them. Ambition was his shadow, a living thing that grew darker and heavier with each step he took until it finally consumed him. It shaped me, too, in ways I'm still unraveling. He taught me to climb over anyone who stood in my way, to survive by any means necessary. A lesson etched into my blood and the very fire I command.

But standing here, in the quiet aftermath of his fall, I wonder if reaching his place was worth the cost.

We made our way back to the family estate, a dull, rhythmic ache in my side a constant reminder of the day's violence. Arren had sent a servant ahead to fetch Lazien. The marble corridors of our wing felt colder than I remembered, each footstep echoing into the silence.

We reached Father's office. The heavy oak door, carved with the Dravoryn dragon, seemed to loom over us. Inside, the room was a shrine to his ambition. The air smelled of old parchment, expensive brandy, and the faint, sharp scent of his favorite cigars. A massive mahogany desk dominated the space, its polished surface reflecting the dying light from the tall, arched window. I suppose this all belonged to Arren now. We sat in the stiff leather chairs opposite the desk and waited, the oppressive silence of the room pressing in.

Ten minutes later, the door creaked open. Lazien stood framed in the doorway, his shoulders slumped, his hands twisting at his sides. His gaze swept the opulent room, his disbelief flickering into dawning horror. He wasn't a fool; he knew something had happened.

"Sit down," Arren and I said in unison.

We exchanged a look. I gave a slight nod, and Arren, leaning forward to claim the space behind the desk, and began to recount the events of the day.

By the end, I could see Lazien struggling to maintain his composure. His face was pale, his knuckles white where he gripped the arms of his chair. A single tear escaped and traced a glistening path down his cheek, betraying the grief he was trying so desperately to hide.

He swallowed hard, his throat clicking. "So, what's the plan? I assume Arren will be the next head… unless you intend to seize it for yourself, Theren."

I can't take the head and survive, I thought. My best option is to support Arren. For now.

I shook my head. "I have no intention of taking the head. Not now." Leaning forward, I fixed them both with a look. "The real question is how we spin this to keep House Dravoryn from falling apart. None of us wants to be executed, correct?"

Arren's voice was as hard as forged steel. "We distance ourselves from Father, from Lord Garron, immediately. The fact that one of our own exposed the crime might buy us some mercy, assuming you stand with me on this, Theren."

He crossed his arms, his jaw set. "We'll also need to offer up some of the lower-level personnel who handled the project. Enough heads to convince the court we've purged the rot, but not so many that we gut ourselves." His expression tightened. "The main issue will be the other houses, circling like vultures, vying for our land and power."

Before I could agree, Lazien's cracked voice cut through the heavy air. "You're just turning your backs on everything he built? I… I was trying to make us a family again. After Mother died, he wasn't the same, but this… This is too far. It's like killing what's left of him."

I raised a hand, quietly. "Lazien, this isn't about turning our backs on Father. It's about surviving the legacy he left us: the entire Dravoryn legacy."

We sat in silence as Lazien stared at me, his gaze a raw wound.

His jaw clenched. "I don't want to lose any more family. But I don't know if I can be part of what you're becoming."

He may not like the direction we're heading, but I won't slow down just because my brother still clings to a dead person.

"I agree with Theren," Arren said, his tone firm. "We've already lost Father. I don't want to lose you, too, Lazien. But if you choose to stand by him, I won't be able to protect you."

I met Lazien's gaze. "The legacy isn't Father's name. It's the House itself, our people. Letting it all burn to protect his memory is the real betrayal."

Lazien looked down, his shoulders slumping in defeat. But I could still see him holding on to something fragile, a sentiment Arren and I had cast aside long ago. If he doesn't let go of it, we may need to make him our high-ranking scapegoat.

The room felt heavier, the weight of our choices seeming to press down on us, making the air thick and hard to breathe.

"Do either of you have anything to add?" Arren finally asked, his voice strained.

I spoke slowly, my eyes on Lazien. "I can speak with Vaelen and Sira to garner support. As the new head, you should be the one to talk to the sub-houses. And I'd recommend you both take guards. After my demonstration, I should be fine, but you two won't be."

"Good idea," Arren agreed. "I'll assign Lira to myself; she's a capable mage. Tarn will guard Lazien; he's one of our best and most loyal swordsmen."

So Lira is finally being recognized, I noted. As for Tarn... I don't know him. But Arren is picking people with little political ambition. Smart.

After a tense pause that stretched for an eternity, Lazien spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "I can… speak to some of my friends. See what they know. I'll get the next set of paperwork ready for you."

He didn't look up. It was the closest thing to acceptance we were going to get.

"Then we have a plan," I said, rising. "We act fast. There's no telling when the hearing will be."

---

I left them and retreated to my quarters. The contrast was stark. Here, the air smelled of ozone and cool stone. The only furniture was a simple bed and a stripped-down workbench littered with tools and schematics. I had sent the note to Sira, but a nagging memory from the duel refused to settle. During the fight with Rylan, beneath the adrenaline and fire, something had changed. It felt as though the Gauntlet hadn't just channeled my will. It had become part of it.

I shifted on the thin mattress, the ache in my ribs a flaring reminder of my duel. I was too drained to chase that phantom feeling now.

Three slow knocks startled me awake. I had overslept.

I rose, my body protesting. As a precaution, I gathered particles into my gauntlet, a silent, invisible threat ready in my fist. I opened the door. Vaelen Nirell stood there, dressed in impeccably tailored dark silk, his house's silver serpent crest gleaming at his collar.

"I've been expecting you," I said, my voice flat.

He gave a slight nod, stepping inside with the fluid grace of a shadow detaching from the doorframe. I sealed the door behind him. His eyes cataloged the room in a single, efficient sweep before he broke the silence.

"I saw what you did today."

"I did many things today," I countered. "You'll need to be more specific."

"You created absence," he said, his voice low, intense. "True absence. A theoretical impossibility. Yet you did it."

"The void is a contingency," I said, my gaze dropping to the scarred metal of my gauntlet. "One I perfected in my time away."

His eyes gleamed with an academic hunger more dangerous than any political ambition. "Teach me, and House Nirell will be your shield. Our support through the coming trials will be absolute."

"No." The word was out before I'd fully considered it. "I know its potential better than anyone. That knowledge is not for sale."

Vaelen's lips curved into a faint smile, utterly unfazed. "I expected as much. Which is why I have a counteroffer. We go to Codon. Together."

The air left my lungs in a silent rush. "Are you insane?" The words were a harsh whisper.

He simply raised a finger to his lips, a gesture that was both a warning and a sign of his complete control.

"Anyone who goes near that place," I said, forcing my voice lower, "has their life stripped away. The decay particles alone…"

He didn't speak, just stood there, letting the silence press in, letting me connect the dots he had already laid out. Decay particles. The words echoed in my mind. The void didn't just stop matter; it displaced it. It could stop the particles that made Codon a tomb. My shock curdled into a cold, sharp-edged understanding.

I met his eyes. "It's not a suicide mission," I stated. "It's a gamble."

"A calculated one," he agreed.

"My void might work," I countered, already dissecting the problem, "but it has limits. The mental strain to maintain a field large enough for us would be immense. We'd need a third, at minimum. We would also need to synthesize our own air within it."

"Three people," Vaelen confirmed without hesitation. "Sixteen hours for a preliminary survey. A little over five hours per person. We would test our limits beforehand, of course."

"So you already have a third," I said. It wasn't a question.

"I do."

The pieces were on the board. My move. "House Nirell will give House Dravoryn its full and unconditional support through these trials," I said, my tone leaving no room for negotiation. "In return, I will be your key to Codon, and I will have an equal share of whatever spoils we find."

"Done," Vaelen said, the word sealing the monstrous pact between us. He moved toward the door, then paused, his silhouette framed against the hallway's dim light. "Don't make me regret this, Theren."

He left without looking back, the latch clicking shut with unnerving finality. The deal was made, but in the sudden quiet of my stone-walled room, my heart began to pound. Was it fear? Or was it the thrill of an adventure that could grant me unimaginable power? I would find out soon enough if my father's ambition had also become my own.