Chapter 7: Mercy is a Lie
Rain slicked the stones of Celestria.
It was not a gentle rain—no, it did not fall like mercy. It drowned. Heavy, relentless, cascading from the heavens like a curse flung by a dying god. The sky hung low, bruised iron bleeding into the night, and the city beneath trembled beneath the storm's oppressive breath.
Beneath this bleak tempest walked Veylan.
His cloak clung to him, sodden and heavy, a shroud made of water and regret. His boots made no sound on the wet cobblestones, but his eyes burned with cold fire—those sharp, feral eyes that never blinked, never betrayed hesitation. Every step he took echoed with silent purpose, the echo swallowed by thunder and rain.
He had escaped the chains of Celestria's lies.
But freedom—this freedom—felt no peace.
It was war incarnate.
---
The city had changed.
Not in walls or towers, though they too bore scars beneath the rain's relentless assault. No—the change curled in the air itself. It seeped through every stone, whispered through every shattered streetlamp, lingered in the breath of every citizen.
The people.
They were different now.
Something ancient and sinister had wrapped its fingers tight around Celestria's heart. It was Diana's grip. Her spell. The beautiful, poisonous lie she wove into every mind. A siren song drowning out truth with sweet deceit.
And the people believed.
They knelt in silent worship.
They smiled with eyes glazed over by faith.
They cheered as their world rotted beneath their feet.
Veylan felt it all—the false joy, the stagnant smiles, the blind loyalty—and it set his blood ablaze. His hand tightened around the hilt of his blade until the bones creaked beneath his skin.
Tonight, he would not run.
Tonight, he would find Cael.
And if the Cael he knew was still buried beneath that blazing red glow—Veylan would drag him back from the abyss.
Or die trying.
---
Meanwhile, beneath the jagged archways of the hollow temple, Cael stood alone before the altar.
The scroll that Diana once worshiped lay in his palm—now nothing more than ash drifting through the stale air.
It crumbled as easily as his past—weightless, beautiful, gone.
The silence around him was not peace.
It was memory.
A suffocating fog that pressed against his ribs, heavy and relentless.
His breath came slow, shallow—like a soldier's last gasp before the fall.
His eyes, once golden orbs blazing with unyielding pride, now burned with a fury that he did not understand.
Yet inside him, something shifted.
A whisper.
A name.
A face.
The priestess's words echoed faintly in the chambers of his mind.
"You were hers first..."
He staggered back, as if the weight of that truth could shatter him.
His sword slipped from his grasp and clattered to the stone floor.
The sound echoed like a verdict—final and irrevocable.
And then, Diana's voice pierced the silence.
A silk-wrapped spike, curling around his skull.
"Do not waver."
But he did.
He wavered like a tower cracking at its foundation.
And that terrified her.
Because if Cael remembered...
If the last spark of truth survived the flame—
She would lose him forever.
---
Beneath the city, Veylan moved like a shadow in the ancient sewers.
The moon sliced through gaps in the cracked ceiling, painting cold silver light on the damp stones.
He emerged behind the palace barracks—once a place of thunderous cheers and triumphant shouts, now a silent graveyard of memories.
Veylan's instincts flared like embers caught in the wind.
He could feel it—an echo of Cael's presence, twisted and muted like a broken song.
From inside his cloak, he drew the final void-bolt.
Sleek and black, humming with arcane magic not meant for mortal hands.
The only weapon capable of piercing Diana's enchantment.
If only for a breath.
A heartbeat.
It was not hope he held in his fist.
It was a prayer forged from desperation.
And tonight, that prayer would be answered.
---
Above the city, the storm tore across the valley like a wounded beast.
Lightning licked the edges of the darkened sky, fire fracturing the heavens.
And on a ridge beyond Celestria's gates—silent but resolute—stood Cael.
He was not hiding.
He was waiting.
As if he knew.
As if he felt the pull of Veylan's heart like gravity.
Veylan stepped from the swirling mist.
The wolf meets the flame.
"You came," Cael said, voice hollow but not lifeless.
Veylan scanned him, drinking in the armor that bore scars of a thousand battles, the stance carved by war, the fire flickering dimly behind his eyes.
He looked like Cael.
But something was deeply wrong.
"You're bleeding," Veylan said softly. "Not on the outside. Inside."
Cael tilted his head, defiant.
"You think I'm corrupted."
"I know you are."
Cael's fists clenched tight enough to crack bone.
"She lied to us."
"Then fight her," Veylan challenged.
"I did," Cael whispered, voice cracking. "And I lost."
The rain hammered harder, drowning their words.
Thunder cracked like a whip.
Cael's eyes flared crimson once more.
And Veylan acted.
He hurled the void-bolt forward.
It struck Cael's chest with a crackle of pure light.
For three heartbeats—
The red glow vanished.
Replaced by blinding, painful truth.
Cael gasped.
Visions flooded his mind—the Goddess, the war, the moment the world shifted beneath his feet.
The day Diana tore his name from history.
And etched a lie in its place.
He sank to his knees.
"Veylan…" he whispered. "I—I remember…"
Hope blossomed in Veylan's chest like fragile spring.
But it was cruelly brief.
The magic shattered.
The red returned.
And so did the voice.
"You hesitated, Cael. Now you punish."
Cael's scream was not his own.
He surged forward—blade drawn and burning.
---
Their swords clashed beneath the storm's furious roar.
Steel screamed against steel.
Brothers turned enemies.
Cael fought like a god possessed—every strike heavy with rage not his own.
But Veylan stood firm.
Each block a desperate plea.
Each parry a whispered question:
"Are you still in there?"
The rain turned the ground to thick, clinging mud.
Blood mixed with water, painting the battlefield in cruel strokes.
Lightning illuminated fleeting glimpses of two warriors locked in fate's cruelest dance.
"You don't have to obey her!" Veylan shouted, voice ragged with exhaustion.
"She made me!" Cael roared back.
"No!" Veylan's voice cracked. "She broke you. But you're still here—I saw you!"
Cael faltered.
Just enough.
Veylan swept low.
Cael crashed into the mud with a wet thud.
Veylan stood over him, chest heaving, sword shaking from fatigue.
"Get up. Fight her, not me."
Cael's body twitched.
Red flickered in his eyes.
Then dimmed.
"I don't… know how."
"Then I'll teach you. Like before."
For a moment, the storm softened.
The rain ceased its rage.
But the silence was fragile.
Diana's voice tore through the quiet like a scream:
"Then burn him, Cael. Burn what remembers."
Cael's hand ignited in crimson flame.
He thrust forward.
Veylan dove sideways.
The fire grazed his arm.
He bit back a scream, tasting iron.
But still, he rose.
Still, he fought.
"I won't give up on you," he growled, voice thick with determination. "Even if it kills me."
Cael surged again.
---
The battle stretched on—hours lost in the tempest's fury.
Steel rang against steel.
Flesh tore.
Bones cracked.
And beneath the corruption, the real Cael clawed toward the surface.
He hesitated.
He trembled.
And with every flicker of doubt, Veylan pressed harder.
With words.
With memories.
With relentless fury.
"You're not her dog, Cael!"
"You were a storm before she ever knew your name!"
"You were mine!"
That last word stopped him.
Mine.
Not in love.
Not in possession.
But in brotherhood.
In bond.
In truth.
Cael's blade slipped from his fingers.
He fell to his knees.
"I'm so tired…" he whispered.
Veylan knelt beside him.
Placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
"I know."
But then Cael's eyes flickered.
Not red.
Not gold.
But black.
Something ancient.
Deeper.
Older.
Watching.
Cael's body crumpled into unconsciousness.
Veylan caught him gently.
The rain washed the blood from their bodies.
But not the war from their souls.
---
Far below them, in chained catacombs beneath the city, the Goddess stirred.
Her arms bound by iron and magic.
Her voice cracked, broken by centuries of silence.
But her will burned with the fury of stars.
"My star burns again," she whispered. "And if he forgets, I will burn the sky to remind him."
Outside, the storm shifted.
No longer just rain.
But fire.
Fire that remembered.
And a kingdom that would soon learn—
What was stolen could never be silenced forever.