Aerys woke to silence.
Not the ordinary kind that followed exhaustion or sleep, but a silence that pressed inward, heavy and deliberate, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
Stone beneath him was cold.
He inhaled sharply and felt the air catch in his lungs, dense and unfamiliar. When he opened his eyes, light fractured above him, pale gold bleeding through a sky that did not fully belong to day or night.
"Aerys."
Nyxara's voice reached him first.
He turned his head slowly. She was kneeling a short distance away, one hand braced against the ground as if steadying herself. The faint glow that had once clung to her skin was gone, replaced by something duller, strained.
"You are awake," she said.
"I never felt asleep," he replied.
She did not smile. "Neither did I."
Aerys pushed himself upright. The world responded immediately. Stone groaned beneath his palms, not cracking, but shifting, as though acknowledging his movement.
He froze.
Nyxara noticed. "Do not fight it," she said quietly. "You will make it worse."
"I am not doing anything," Aerys replied.
"That is the problem."
He looked down at his hands.
They were steady.
Too steady.
Before, there had always been tension. Instinct humming beneath his skin, the Alpha's constant awareness of dominance and threat. Now there was nothing pushing back. No resistance.
As if something had been removed.
"Where are we?" he asked.
Nyxara scanned the horizon. Jagged cliffs encircled them, rising like broken teeth. The ground bore no markings, no signs of habitation, yet it felt watched.
"Between," she said.
"Between what?"
"Jurisdiction," she replied. "The gods do not fully claim this place. Neither does the council."
Aerys frowned. "You brought us here?"
"No," Nyxara said. "Your refusal did."
The memory returned in fragments. The Seer. The ultimatum. The light tearing open the sky.
Her hand in his.
"I chose you," Aerys said quietly.
Nyxara's gaze sharpened. "And the world heard it."
They moved cautiously.
Each step Aerys took sent a subtle ripple outward. He felt it now, the way his presence disturbed the space around him. Not violently. Precisely.
"This should not be happening yet," Nyxara murmured.
"What should be happening?" he asked.
"You should be breaking," she replied. "Incomplete ascension usually shatters the vessel."
"And I am not."
"No."
She stopped walking and turned to face him fully. "Which means something else is forming."
Aerys held her gaze. "You speak as if I am no longer myself."
Nyxara hesitated. "You are still you. But you are no longer only that."
He considered her words. "Do you fear me?"
She did not answer immediately.
"I fear what will happen when others realize you can exist without permission," she said at last.
Aerys absorbed that in silence.
They reached a ridge overlooking a vast expanse of broken land. Cracks ran through the earth like veins, faintly glowing beneath the surface.
Nyxara stiffened. "Do you feel that?"
"Yes," Aerys said. "Something is pulling."
"Not pulling," she corrected. "Listening."
Figures began to emerge from the far side of the ravine.
They were not human.
Their forms shifted subtly, never quite settling, as if the world struggled to agree on their shape.
Aerys stepped forward instinctively.
Nyxara caught his arm. "Do not command them."
"I was not going to."
"That instinct alone is enough," she said.
One of the figures spoke.
"You stand unbound," it said, its voice layered with echoes. "That is not permitted."
Aerys met its gaze. "Then revise your permission."
A pause.
The figures stirred, disturbed not by anger, but by curiosity.
"You are neither Alpha nor god," another said. "You are error."
Nyxara stepped beside him. "Errors change systems."
The figures withdrew slowly, melting back into the land.
Only then did Aerys exhale.
"They did not attack," he said.
"They were measuring," Nyxara replied. "You unsettled them."
By dusk, Nyxara's steps faltered.
Aerys noticed immediately. "You are weakening."
"I am being recalibrated," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
He caught her when she stumbled.
Her skin was cold.
"This is because of me," he said.
"Yes," she admitted quietly. "When you rejected ascension, you severed a binding that stabilized me."
Aerys clenched his jaw. "Then tell me how to fix it."
Nyxara looked up at him. "There may not be a way."
They reached shelter as night fell. A cave carved deep into the cliffside, etched with symbols so old they barely registered as language.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, Nyxara collapsed.
Aerys lowered her carefully to the ground.
"Stay with me," he said.
She laughed weakly. "You sound like someone making a vow."
"Perhaps I am."
The cave hummed softly.
Aerys closed his eyes and felt something open within him. Not power, but memory.
Images flooded his mind.
Nyxara standing alone in this place, centuries ago. Hands not her own shaping her form. Voices calling it mercy.
He staggered back.
"They broke you," he whispered.
Nyxara's eyes widened. "You should not be able to see that."
"They turned you into a mechanism," he said. "A failsafe."
Her silence confirmed it.
The cave trembled.
"Aerys," she warned. "Control yourself."
He forced the images away.
"Teach me," he said. "How to exist without destroying everything."
Nyxara studied him for a long moment.
"If I do," she said slowly, "you will never be able to return to who you were."
"I am already gone," he replied.
She nodded once. "Then listen."
Training did not involve strength.
It involved restraint.
Nyxara taught him how to listen without responding. How to feel belief press against him and let it pass without shape.
Each attempt felt like holding back a tide with bare hands.
By dawn, he was shaking.
"You are progressing too quickly," Nyxara said.
"I do not have the luxury of slow," he replied.
She opened her mouth to argue, then stopped.
The air shifted.
Someone had entered the cave.
Seris Maelthorn stood at the entrance, expression unreadable.
Nyxara rose instantly. "You should not be here."
"Neither should he," Seris replied, eyes fixed on Aerys.
"Did the council send you?" Aerys asked.
"No," Seris said. "They are afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of you not failing," Seris replied.
Nyxara crossed her arms. "Then why come?"
"To warn you," Seris said. "The council has chosen another path."
Aerys felt the weight of it before Seris spoke the words.
"They will force an ascension," Seris continued. "This time, one they control."
Nyxara's breath caught. "Who?"
Seris hesitated. "The High Seer."
Silence filled the cave.
"If that happens," Nyxara said softly, "the world will fracture."
Aerys straightened.
"Then we stop it."
Seris studied him carefully. "You sound certain."
"I am done reacting," Aerys said. "Now the world responds."
Nyxara looked at him sharply.
Seris's expression darkened. "Be careful. That is how gods are born."
Aerys met his gaze. "No. That is how they are replaced."
Nyxara stepped closer to Aerys, her voice low.
"If you move against them now," she said, "there will be no sanctuary left."
Aerys took her hand.
"Then we do not seek sanctuary," he said. "We end the cycle."
Nyxara held his gaze, fear and resolve colliding.
"I will stand with you," she said. "But understand this."
"What?"
"When they fall," she whispered, "something worse will notice."
Aerys tightened his grip.
"Then let it come."
Outside the cave, the sky darkened unnaturally.
And far beyond their sight, belief began to shift.