"Lower your weapons."
Aerys' voice cut through the chamber like a blade drawn slow.
The guards hesitated. Not because they feared him. Fear was instinct. What held them still was uncertainty. Alphas were meant to command without question, but an Alpha who stood beside an anomaly had no precedent.
Nyxara felt it before she saw it. The shift in the air. The tightening of judgment.
"You should not be here," the captain said at last, his tone carefully neutral. "This chamber is sealed under council decree."
"I am the decree," Aerys replied.
The captain swallowed. "My lord, the Rite has been invoked."
"I know."
"Then step aside."
Aerys did not move.
Behind him, Nyxara exhaled slowly. "You are burning bridges you cannot rebuild."
"I was never meant to rebuild them," Aerys said.
The captain raised his hand. The guards tightened their grip on their blades.
"This does not end with you," the captain warned. "The council will not bend."
"Neither will I."
For a moment, the world held its breath.
Then steel scraped against stone.
The clash was brief but violent.
Aerys moved with the precision of someone who had been trained to kill before he learned to rule. He disarmed without slaughter, his strikes controlled but relentless. Each movement carried the weight of restraint, as if he were holding back something far worse.
Nyxara watched him closely.
This was not the Alpha the stories spoke of. Not the beast driven by dominance and blood. This was something quieter. Something dangerous in a different way.
A guard lunged past Aerys, reaching for her.
Pain exploded across the chamber.
Nyxara gasped as the world fractured, sound folding inward. She did not scream. She never did.
The guard fell before he reached her.
Aerys turned, eyes blazing.
"Do not touch her," he said, his voice low. Not loud. Not angry.
Terrible.
The remaining guards stepped back.
The captain raised his hand again, slower this time. "Withdraw," he ordered.
They retreated, dragging the injured with them, leaving the chamber strewn with echoes and blood.
When the doors slammed shut, silence rushed back in.
Aerys stood still, chest heaving.
Nyxara stared at him.
"You felt that," she said.
"Yes."
"And you did not lose control."
"No."
"That should not be possible."
Aerys turned toward her. "Then explain why it is."
Nyxara did not answer.
Instead, she pressed her hand against her side, where dark blood seeped through her fingers.
Aerys was at her side instantly.
"You are hurt."
"It is not fatal."
"That is not an answer I accept."
She met his gaze, something unreadable flickering there. "You are not meant to care this much."
"And yet," he said quietly, "here we are."
They did not stay.
The underground passages twisted beyond the reach of the citadel, carved long before the council learned to fear what lay beneath their feet. Aerys led them through corridors few remembered, his memory guiding them where maps failed.
Nyxara grew paler with every step.
"You are losing blood," he said.
"I am losing time," she corrected.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," she said softly, "that we are being watched."
Aerys stopped.
"By whom?"
Nyxara's gaze lifted, unfocused. "By those who do not have eyes."
Aerys frowned. "You speak in riddles."
"I speak in truth," she replied. "You simply do not have the language for it yet."
They emerged into the open air just as dawn bled across the horizon. The citadel loomed behind them, black against the light.
Freedom felt fragile.
Aerys removed his cloak, pressing it against Nyxara's wound. "We need shelter."
"There is a settlement beyond the ravine," she said. "But they will sense you."
"I am done hiding what I am."
Nyxara almost smiled. Almost.
"You think this is about hiding," she said. "It is not."
They reached the ravine as the horns sounded again.
Not judgment this time.
Pursuit.
"They will hunt us," Aerys said.
"Yes."
"And if they catch us?"
Nyxara looked at him. "They will not kill you."
Aerys frowned. "Why not?"
"Because you are more useful broken."
The settlement was smaller than Aerys expected. No banners. No guards. Just stone homes and people who looked at him with wary eyes.
"They know," he murmured.
"They feel," Nyxara corrected.
They were given shelter without questions. Aerys did not miss the way the villagers avoided looking directly at him.
Nyxara collapsed onto a low bed.
"Stay awake," Aerys said sharply.
"I am awake."
"No," he said. "Stay here."
She reached for his wrist. Her touch burned.
"If I sleep," she said, "you will hear them."
"Who?"
"The gods," she whispered.
Aerys stilled. "You said they placed you."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Nyxara's grip tightened. "Because Alphas are not meant to rule forever."
"And you are the end of us."
"No," she said. "I am the question."
Her eyes fluttered shut.
Aerys cursed softly.
He did not leave her side.
When the whispers began, he thought at first they were his imagination. Fragments of voices, overlapping and distant, pulling at something deep within him.
He pressed his hands against his temples.
"Stop," he muttered.
The air thickened.
The room darkened.
Nyxara's eyes snapped open.
"They are here," she said.
Aerys drew his blade.
"No steel," Nyxara warned. "It does not matter to them."
"Then what does?"
She sat up slowly, pain etched across her face.
"You," she said. "What you are becoming."
The temperature dropped.
The walls trembled.
Aerys felt something inside him tear open.
Not rage.
Not dominance.
Pain.
Raw and human.
The whispers turned to laughter.
Nyxara reached for him. "Do not let them see fear."
"I am not afraid," Aerys said.
"That is worse," she replied.
The room shattered.
Light poured in from nowhere.
A presence pressed down on them, vast and suffocating.
A voice spoke. Not aloud.
Within.
You were never meant to feel.
Aerys clenched his fists.
"Then you should not have made me," he said.
Silence fell.
Nyxara stared at him, eyes wide.
"You spoke back," she whispered.
"I am done listening."
The presence recoiled.
The whispers faded.
The light collapsed.
Aerys fell to his knees.
Nyxara caught him.
"You challenged them," she said.
"I challenged lies."
Her voice shook. "They will not forget this."
"Neither will I."
When dawn returned, the settlement was quiet.
Too quiet.
Aerys stepped outside.
The villagers stood at the edge of the square, eyes hollow.
One stepped forward.
"They came," the man said.
"Who?" Aerys asked.
"The council," he replied. "And something else."
Nyxara joined him, unsteady but upright.
"What did they take?" she asked.
The man's gaze shifted to her.
"They did not take," he said. "They left."
Left what?
A cry echoed from the far end of the settlement.
Aerys turned.
Children stood frozen, staring at the ground.
Symbols burned into the earth.
Warnings.
Nyxara inhaled sharply.
"They marked you," she said to Aerys.
"For what?"
"For ascension," she replied.
Aerys looked down at his hands.
They were shaking.
"What does that mean?" he asked.
Nyxara met his gaze, fear finally unmasked.
"It means," she said quietly, "they are preparing to make you something worse than an Alpha."
Aerys swallowed.
"And what would that be?"
Nyxara answered in a whisper.
"A god."