The bells of the Sanctum rang slow that afternoon, not in mourning, nor in triumph, but in ceremony.From the balconies above, banners of white and gold swayed in the wet air, carrying the chants of priests and soldiers gathered for the rites of Dreidar, god of the Light. Incense drifted through the marble corridors, heavy and sweet, masking the faint metallic scent that seemed to cling to everything in this place.
Alexander followed Lukas down the long hall. Their boots echoed softly against the polished stone, each step swallowed by the weight of devotion around them. Outside, the chorus of voices swelled and fell, a tide that never stopped.
Jacobo awaited them at the end of the hall, seated by a window that framed the ceremony below. His hand hovered over a candle's flame, as though testing its warmth. His face, soft and round, seemed harmless, almost gentle. Only his eyes betrayed the cruelty of clarity.
"Your Grace," Lukas said, bowing low. "Bondrea is secured."
Jacobo smiled faintly. "Tell me."
"Thirteen rebels dead," Lukas replied. "A few scattered into the woods, but patrols are already sweeping the area. The city's stable again."
Jacobo nodded, satisfied. "And Alexander?" he asked, not turning his head, as if the man were invisible.
Lukas grinned. "Performed well. Even executed a rebel himself. A woman." He paused, savoring it. "Though, if you ask me, he was too quick about it. No ceremony."
Jacobo's expression didn't change. "Mercy is a luxury for those who doubt."At last he looked toward Alexander. "You've done well, my son."
Alexander inclined his head. "I only did what was necessary."
Jacobo rose, his movements slow, deliberate. "That's precisely what the Light asks of us."He motioned with a small wave. "Lukas, leave us, please."
The door closed behind them, and silence reclaimed the room, a silence that felt like kneeling.
Jacobo turned toward the window. "You've been loyal, Alexander. The Light rewards loyalty."He picked up a silver seal from his desk and turned it between his fingers. "Bondrea was nearly lost. But through your service, it was preserved. So, it's fitting that it becomes yours."
Alexander blinked. "Mine?"
Jacobo smiled. "You'll rebuild it under the Light's guidance. Rule it in His name. A noble hand for a faithful land."
Alexander bowed. "You honor me, Your Grace."
He accepted the seal, the weight of it cold in his palm. Jacobo's gaze lingered, kind but sharp. "Rule well. The Light never sleeps."
When Alexander stepped outside, the chants of Dreidar's worship swelled again, victory and purification in one endless hymn. Lukas was waiting by the stairs.
"So?" Lukas asked, smirking. "Got what you wanted?"
Alexander didn't reply. He walked past him, his boots echoing down the corridor. Each step felt heavier than the last.
In the courtyard, the white towers of the Sanctum glowed against the dimming sky. For a moment, he stopped by the fountain. He looked at his reflection: pale, polished, cleansed, and rubbed his hands together, harder and harder.
He'd washed them a dozen times, but the warmth of Diana's blood still lingered. It was as if the skin itself remembered.
He closed his eyes, forcing the image away, and turned his thoughts to Bondrea. Four hours from the capital. Four hours from Jacobo's gaze. Surrounded by rivers of poisoned light.
A prison, dressed as a gift.
He exhaled through his teeth, slipping the seal into his coat. So that's how you keep your servants close, he thought. You just give them walls and call them land.
Lukas joined him outside, adjusting his gloves. "Your city awaits, Lord of Bondrea."
Alexander forced a smile. "It's closer than I'd expected"
As he mounted his horse, the Sanctum bells began again, slow, patient, eternal.He looked once more at the towers, gleaming like polished bones.
One day, he thought, I'll shatter that skull and feed the Light to the dark.
He turned away and rode down the white road toward Bondrea, the silver seal heavy in his pocket and the ghost of blood still clinging to his hands.