Chapter 286: After the Guardian Fell
[Silthara Palace — Hall of Eternal Rest — The Next Morning]
Dawn...never truly arrived. The sun had risen above Zahryssar, and yet... Silthara Palace remained cloaked in sorrow; not a single servant laughed. Even the fountains seemed quieter.
As though...the palace itself mourned. Inside the Hall of Eternal Rest, hundreds of white lotus flowers surrounded a raised marble platform.
Upon it... Lay Asha, her wounds had been washed, and her fur had been carefully cleaned. The blood that had stained her body yesterday...had disappeared. She looked as though she were merely sleeping.
At the foot of the platform...two silver ceremonial swords crossed one another. Above them...the banner of Zahryssar fluttered gently beneath the morning breeze.
One after another...royal knights entered; none spoke. Each silently removed their helmet and each lowered one knee. Each bowed their head, not before a queen, not before a malik, but before the guardian...who had given her life for their future.
Captain Varesh slowly stepped forward; he placed his sword upon the marble floor. Then he bowed deeply. "Thank you for saving the future of Zahryssar..."
Silence.
"I was captain, yet...you fulfilled my duty before I could." His head lowered further. "I should be the one who should’ve been here."
Arkhazunn flinched hearing this, and something stirred in his heart as he recalled... Varesh lying there instead of Asha. His whole body started to tremble in fear, gulped, and... clenched his fist.
No one moved.
Behind him... Lady Arinaya approached; she carried a single white lotus, and she gently placed it beside Asha. Her fingers lingered upon the marble. "Thank you for protecting the future of Zahryssar; may Lord Urzan bless your soul."
Prince Sarash entered next. Lady Nyra quietly held his hand; the little girl slowly approached Asha. She looked no different, still beautiful and still peaceful.
Nyra’s tiny fingers reached forward gently... They stroked Asha’s forehead, and Lady Nyra whispered, "Thank you...for protecting me too."
A single tear rolled down her cheek. "I’ll bring flowers...every year."
Sarash quietly placed his hand upon her shoulder; neither spoke again. Then footsteps echoed through the hall. Everyone immediately stepped aside. The malik had arrived.
Zeramet entered wearing pure black ceremonial robes: no crown, no weapons, no ornaments, only mourning black.
Beside him walked Levin; his injured leg had been wrapped carefully. Yet...he refused assistance. In his arms...Prince Zaryan quietly slept. Princess Nyzara rested peacefully against Zeramet’s shoulder.
The twins wore tiny black robes, completely unaware that today, they had come...to say goodbye.
The entire hall bowed.
"Greetings, Malik. Greetings, Malika."
Neither answered. Levin slowly walked toward Asha; he knelt. Prince Zaryan stirred; tiny golden eyes slowly opened. He blinked sleepily, then looked toward Asha, and without understanding why, he reached his tiny hand outward.
"...Baa..."
His little fingers searched, searching...for the warm fur that had always welcomed him. Levin’s lips trembled.
"She’s sleeping..." He whispered softly. "A very long sleep..."
Princess Nyzara also opened her blue eyes; she quietly stared at Asha, then she leaned forward from Zeramet’s shoulder, stretching her tiny fingers, trying...to touch her guardian one last time.
Zeramet carefully lowered her; her little fingertips rested gently upon Asha’s forehead.
Silence.
Then something unexpected happened: the morning breeze entered the hall, and white lotus petals slowly rose into the air.
One...after another, none of them scattered. Instead...every single petal slowly circled Asha. The entire hall watched in stunned silence; even the candles burned brighter.
The high priest entered quietly; his aged eyes widened as he slowly looked upward.
"Lord Urzan...I knew this golden blood was directly connected to Lord Urzan."
Silence.
The petals continued circling gently, not wildly, not magically, almost...like a final embrace. The high priest slowly knelt. "No creature receives the Blessing of White Lotus...unless their soul returns without regret."
Fresh tears filled Levin’s eyes; he smiled weakly. "Of course...she had no regrets."
He gently looked toward the twins. She protected... Exactly who she wanted to protect."
Nearby, a low, broken rumble echoed through the hall.
Rrrrrrrrrrr...
Lyresaph slowly entered, still in his true dragon form; he hadn’t slept, he hadn’t eaten, and he quietly approached Asha.
Then for the final time he lowered his enormous head beside hers, closing his eyes and saying goodbye to his best friend forever.
The hall fell completely silent; no one interrupted him, no one rushed him and no one spoke because everyone understood this was his goodbye.
***
[Silthara Palace — Royal Mausoleum — Later]
The procession moved in complete silence: no ceremonial drums, no royal trumpets only...the sound of slow footsteps. One after another...the Royal Knights walked behind Asha’s white marble bier. Their helmets remained lowered; their swords rested upside down in mourning.
The banners of Zahryssar fluttered gently above them. Even the desert wind...seemed reluctant to disturb the farewell. Beyond the palace...the Royal Mausoleum rested beneath the open heavens.
A sacred place where only those who had devoted their lives to Zahryssar were permitted to sleep. The ancient white gates slowly opened. Inside...rows upon rows of marble monuments stood beneath blooming ancient trees.
At the very center...a newly prepared resting place waited, simple, pure, and peaceful. Asha was gently lowered upon the white stone; no one spoke and no one cried aloud.
Grief had become too deep for words. Levin stepped forward; his injured leg trembled beneath him. Yet...he refused assistance; he knelt beside her, his trembling hand brushed gently across her forehead one final time.
Then a handful of white lotus petals slipped quietly from his fingers. They drifted onto Asha’s peaceful body, one by one...others followed.
Zeramet. Duke Aren. Lady Arinaya. Captain Varesh. Prince Sarash. Lady Nyra. Iru. Raevahn. Lord Sharukh. Arkhazunn. Each silently placed white lotus petals beside her.
Then the white marble lid was slowly lifted. The Royal Knights lowered Asha into her final resting place; the lid descended.
Thud.
Everything became still; the Royal Crest of Zahryssar was gently carved into the fresh white stone. Beneath it...only one name.
Asha
Nothing more, nothing less. She needed no title; her deeds...had already become her name.
A quiet breeze swept through the Royal Mausoleum.
Lyresaph, the great silver dragon, stood motionless before the grave. For a long moment...he simply looked. Then his enormous body slowly shimmered; the towering guardian...gradually became smaller.
He slowly walked forward; his tiny claws made no sound upon the white stone, and he stopped beside Levin and looked once toward Asha’s grave. Then very gently...he pressed his little head against Levin’s injured leg.
Seeking the comfort of the only family he still had. Levin lowered his hand; his fingers softly stroked the little dragon’s head. The silver scales felt warm beneath his touch.
Lyresaph closed his eyes, leaning quietly into that familiar hand. The two remained there, and beneath the endless sky of Zahryssar...
A faithful guardian...returned to the embrace of the earth she had spent her life protecting.
***
[Silthara Palace — Outer Courtyard — Later]
Varesh stood before the royal knights like a blade drawn from its sheath, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his expression hard enough to cut through stone.
"We do not know where those black serpents came from," he said, his voice carrying across the palace corridor with commanding force, "or how they managed to infiltrate our lands. But one thing is certain..."
His eyes darkened.
"They are after our prince and princess."
The knights straightened at once.
"They will try again," Varesh continued, each word sharper than the last. "And no matter how secure Silthara Palace may seem, we are not beyond danger. From this moment onward, Malika’s residency is to be placed under full protection. Rotate shifts if you must, but every guard stationed there will remain armed at all times. Swords, spears, powers...everything. No serpent enters the palace grounds without purpose. I do not care whether they are nobles, knights, servants, or officials. Every identity will be checked."
His grip tightened around his sword.
"Our prince and princess are to be protected at all costs. No hesitation. No mistakes. Even if it costs your life..."
His voice dropped, colder, heavier.
"...then give it."
The knights slammed their fists to their chests.
"YES, CAPTAIN!"
"Everyone to your positions. Now."
At once, the knights dispersed in all directions, their armor clashing as they rushed to obey. Varesh remained where he stood for a moment longer, fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword as his gaze lingered on the darkened halls of Silthara Palace.
A silent vow.
He would not let anything happen to them, not while he was still breathing; he sighed and turned to leave...
PULLLLLL!!!"
Before he could react, a hand seized his wrist and yanked him sharply into the opposite direction. Varesh’s instincts struck first. His sword flashed free in a streak of silver, its edge raised instantly to the throat of the one who had dared grab him...
And then he froze.
Arkhazunn stood before him, his long fingers wrapped tightly around Varesh’s wrist, the tip of the sword resting a breath away from the High Mage’s throat as if it meant absolutely nothing to him.
Varesh’s eyes widened.
"High Mage...?" He lowered the sword at once, confusion pulling at his features. "You frightened me—"
"Why," Arkhazunn interrupted softly, "do you keep speaking of death so casually?"
Varesh blinked.
Arkhazunn’s voice was low, too low and too calm.
Dangerously calm.
"Do you find death amusing now, Captain?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "Is that why you throw your life away with such ease in front of everyone?"
Varesh frowned and tried to pull his wrist free. "High Mage, you’re hurting—"
But Arkhazunn only tightened his grip, and then, without warning, he stepped forward and dragged Varesh flush against him.
Varesh’s breath caught.
Arkhazunn’s other arm wrapped around his waist in one swift, possessive motion, fingers pressing firmly into his side as he pinned him in place. Their bodies collided chest to chest, close enough for Varesh to feel the heat radiating from him...close enough to hear the sharp, uneven edge of Arkhazunn’s breathing.
"And you," Arkhazunn murmured, his face now only inches away, "are hurting me."
Varesh stared at him; for a second, he forgot how to breathe.
Arkhazunn’s gaze did not leave his face. It moved over him slowly, hungrily, as though he were searching for every hidden wound Varesh had never spoken aloud, and he continued saying.
"Do you have any idea what I felt listening to you speak of dying as if it were nothing? As if your life were some insignificant offering to be laid at the feet of the crown?"
His fingers dug deeper into Varesh’s waist, and Arkhazunn said, "I heard those words, and all I could see was your blood on the palace floor."
Varesh’s heart stumbled.
"I imagined your body broken beyond healing." The grip on his waist tightened further as his voice dropped to something raw, possessive, and unsteady.
"I saw your eyes closed, and I swear to the Lord Urzan, Captain... if you ever speak of death so lightly again, I will lose what little control I have left."
Varesh’s throat tightened. The way Arkhazunn was looking at him now...it was unbearable, as if he were furious, as if he were terrified and as if Varesh had reached into his chest and wrapped his hand around his heart without permission.
"Why?" Varesh asked suddenly, his voice quieter than before...but edged with pain. "Why do you care so much?"
Arkhazunn went still.
Varesh laughed once, but there was no humor in it, only something wounded and bitter as he repeated, his eyes locking onto Arkhazunn’s
"Why? Tell me, High Mage."
A dangerous silence fell between them.
Varesh swallowed hard, and when he spoke again, the hurt he had buried for so long finally bled through as he asked, "Wasn’t I the mistake? Wasn’t I the one you confused for someone else?"
Arkhazunn’s expression shifted, barely, but Varesh saw it. Saw the flicker of guilt. Saw the tightening of his jaw. That memory still lived between them like poison.
That night, that kiss and that other name. Varesh’s voice turned colder, though it trembled at the edges.
"You called me another serpent’s name and kissed me like I was merely a shadow of someone you wanted." His gaze burned. "So tell me, high mage... why should it matter to you whether I live or die?"
Arkhazunn’s eyes darkened instantly.
"Captain—"
"No."
Varesh jerked against his hold, but Arkhazunn only dragged him closer, almost crushing him against his chest. "Let me finish. I am the Imperial Captain. The moment I took that oath, my life stopped belonging to me. It belongs to Malik. To Malika. To the prince. To the princess. If I die protecting them, then that is simply the duty I accepted—"
"Enough."
The word came out like a command, and before Varesh could say another syllable, Arkhazunn clamped a hand over his mouth. Varesh’s eyes widened.
"Not. Another. Word." Arkhazunn’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it shook with something terrifyingly unstable. "If you speak of dying again, Captain..."
He leaned in, his lips almost brushing Varesh’s ear.
"I will destroy everything in this palace just to silence the world that dares imagine taking you from me."
Varesh went still, completely still.
The corridor fell silent around them, the distant sounds of armored footsteps fading until it felt as though the entire palace had vanished and only the two of them remained.
Arkhazunn slowly lowered his hand from Varesh’s mouth, but he did not let him go, not even a little.
Instead, his fingers rose to Varesh’s face, his thumb brushing beneath his eye with impossible softness...as if searching for tears that had never fallen.
Varesh’s chest tightened painfully. Arkhazunn traced the line of his cheek, his jaw, and then, at last... his thumb settled against Varesh’s lower lip.
Varesh’s breath shivered. Arkhazunn looked at his mouth as though it were the most dangerous thing he had ever seen.
When he spoke again, his voice had changed, lower, rougher, and too honest.
"I remember that night; I remember kissing you." Varesh’s lashes trembled. Arkhazunn’s gaze lifted to his eyes. "And I remember hurting you."
Varesh turned his face away, but Arkhazunn caught his chin at once, forcing him back.
"No, look at me when I speak."
Varesh’s pulse pounded.
"I was drunk that night," Arkhazunn said, each word deliberate, "and my mind was clouded by ghosts I should have buried long ago. But do not insult me by thinking what I feel now is confusion."
His hand tightened at Varesh’s waist.
"This..." he whispered, leaning closer, his breath warm against Varesh’s lips, "is not a mistake."
Varesh’s lips parted slightly. Arkhazunn stared at them, his eyes darkened with something almost feverish.
"Do you know what I hate most about you, Captain?" he murmured.
Varesh swallowed.
"That you stand before death without fear," Arkhazunn said. "That you offer your life so easily to everyone... and leave nothing for yourself."
His fingers slid from Varesh’s waist up his back, pressing him impossibly closer.
"And yet I have become greedy enough to want what remains."
Varesh’s breath caught sharply, "High...high mage..."
"Now, I want your recklessness," Arkhazunn whispered, his nose brushing Varesh’s. "Your loyalty. Your rage. Your stubborn heart."
His lips hovered a breath away now.
"And I want every breath you keep trying to throw away."
Varesh’s eyes fluttered shut for half a second; that was all it took, and Arkhazunn kissed him softly.
At first, it was almost deceptive.
A slow press of lips against lips...gentle enough to feel like a question and reverent enough to feel like worship. The kind of kiss that should have soothed. Should have calmed down. Should have undone the storm coiling between them.
But it did none of those things because Arkhazunn then kissed him like a serpent starving like a man who had spent too long holding himself back and had finally reached the edge of restraint.
He kissed him once, then again...and again. Each one deeper than the last.
Varesh made a muffled sound against his mouth when Arkhazunn’s hand slid into his hair, fingers curling at the nape of his neck, holding him there as if he had no intention of ever letting him go again. His other arm tightened around Varesh’s waist until there was no space left between them, no air, no distance, nothing but heat and the dizzying pressure of Arkhazunn’s body against his own.
Varesh’s fingers clenched against Arkhazunn’s robes. Arkhazunn tilted his head and kissed him harder; this time there was nothing soft about it. It was slow but devastating, possessive, and demanding.
The kind of kiss that said mine without a single word.
Varesh tried to pull back, overwhelmed by the force of it, by the way Arkhazunn was consuming every breath he gave him...but Arkhazunn only chased him, one hand gripping his jaw, the other crushing him closer as if the very idea of Varesh slipping away were unacceptable.
"High—"
The name barely left his lips before Arkhazunn kissed him again, deeper and hungrier.
Varesh’s back hit the nearest stone pillar with a soft thud, and Arkhazunn caged him there instantly, one hand braced beside his head while the other remained locked around his waist like a chain.
"Do not run from me," Arkhazunn breathed against his mouth.
Varesh’s heart was hammering so violently it hurt.
"You don’t get to speak of dying..." Arkhazunn whispered, brushing his lips over Varesh’s once, twice, maddeningly slow, "And then expect me to stand there like some calm, noble fool while you tear my sanity apart."
He kissed the corner of Varesh’s mouth, then his jaw, and returned to his lips again as if he could not stay away even for a second.
"You do not get to make me imagine losing you..." another kiss, deeper, rougher, "...and then ask why I care."
Varesh’s knees nearly gave way.
Arkhazunn caught him immediately, almost violently, hauling him back up against his chest as though even gravity itself were not allowed to take him.
Then he kissed him again; this time, Varesh stopped resisting, stopped thinking, and stopped pretending he could survive this untouched.
His hands fisted in Arkhazunn’s robes, and he kissed him back, and the moment he did, something in Arkhazunn snapped.
A low, broken sound left the High Mage’s throat...half relief, half hunger...and his hand slid from Varesh’s waist up to the back of his neck, holding him with frightening tenderness and terrifying possession all at once.
That was when the kiss truly changed. It deepened into something molten and something relentless.
Arkhazunn kissed him as if he had been denied for centuries and had finally decided he would never go hungry again. Every movement of his mouth was slow enough to make Varesh tremble and intense enough to steal the breath from his lungs. He kissed him like a vow, like a warning, and like a confession he had no language for except this.
Varesh’s head spun.
Arkhazunn’s thumb brushed his jaw, then his throat, as though reassuring himself that Varesh was still here...still alive...still warm in his arms.
"You are now mine to protect," Arkhazunn murmured between his lips, his voice ragged. "Even if you hate hearing it."
Varesh shivered.
Arkhazunn pressed his forehead against Varesh’s for a brief, burning second, but even then he did not truly let him breathe. His lips found Varesh’s again, softer now...achingly soft...like he was trying to memorize the shape of him after nearly devouring him whole.
"Do you understand me now?" Arkhazunn whispered.
Varesh could barely think. Arkhazunn’s fingers tightened beneath his jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze.
"When you speak of death," he said, his voice low and shaking with a possessiveness that bordered on madness, "you speak as if your life belongs to everyone."
His eyes burned.
"But it does not."
His hand slid over Varesh’s heart.
"It belongs here too."
Varesh’s breath stuttered. Arkhazunn leaned in once more, brushing his lips against Varesh’s in one last slow, maddening kiss.
"So if you ever try to throw your life away again, Captain..." he murmured, his mouth still lingering against Varesh’s, "I will drag you back from the gates of death myself."
Another kiss, soft, dangerous, and obsessive.
"And if death dares touch you before I do—"
His arm locked around Varesh’s waist, possessive enough to bruise.
"—I will burn kingdoms for it."
Varesh stared at him, breathless, dazed, his lips swollen from the force of Arkhazunn’s kisses, his pulse still thundering beneath his skin. Arkhazunn brushed his thumb across Varesh’s lower lip, eyes fixed on the mark he had left there.
Then, with a look so darkly tender it nearly shattered what remained of Varesh’s composure, he murmured...
"So the next time you wish to speak of dying..." He leaned down, his lips brushing Varesh’s ear. "Remember first that I am far more dangerous than death will ever be. I can even turn time to bring you back."
And before Varesh could gather a single thought... Arkhazunn kissed him again.
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