The ash did not settle after the Alpha vanished.
It drifted higher, carried by a wind that did not belong to the night. The boundary Nyxara had drawn shimmered faintly, reacting not to intrusion, but recognition.
Aerys stood motionless, senses stretched thin.
"What did he mean?" Seris asked quietly. "What did you awaken?"
Aerys did not answer.
Because the truth was, he did not fully know.
Nyxara released his hand and stepped closer to the boundary, eyes unfocused as if listening to something beneath the surface of the world.
"He was not lying," she said. "And he was not guessing."
Seris frowned. "Then explain."
Nyxara turned slowly. "The Forge was not meant to create gods."
Silence followed.
Aerys felt a tightening in his chest. "Then what was it for?"
"To refine instinct," Nyxara replied. "To compress will into something… autonomous."
Seris stared at her. "That sounds worse."
"It was," she said softly. "The gods learned quickly that belief was easier to control than instinct. But instinct never disappears. It waits."
Aerys's jaw tightened. "And I became its vessel."
"You became its convergence," Nyxara corrected. "Not a god. Not an Alpha. Something that can choose without hierarchy."
Seris let out a low breath. "That is exactly what the gods cannot allow."
The ash wind shifted again.
This time, it carried sound.
Not voices.
Heartbeat.
Slow. Deep. Too large to belong to anything human.
Aerys felt it resonate inside him, a pulse matching his own.
Nyxara stiffened. "It is closer."
"I feel it," Aerys said.
"Not the Presence," she clarified. "The consequence."
Before Seris could respond, the ground trembled.
Not violently.
Deliberately.
Cracks spread through the ash beneath their feet, glowing faintly with buried heat.
The Alphas rose as one, instincts flaring.
"Formation," the gold eyed Alpha barked.
They moved without discussion, a loose perimeter forming around Aerys and Nyxara.
Aerys did not object.
Whatever was coming was not meant for them alone.
The ash parted ahead.
Something rose.
Not a creature.
A shape.
Tall, indistinct, its form defined more by absence than matter. Where it stood, the air bent inward, light dimming as if swallowed.
Seris swallowed hard. "That is not divine."
"No," Nyxara whispered. "It is older."
The shape tilted, as if focusing.
A voice filled the space, not spoken, but impressed directly into thought.
You remain incomplete.
Aerys stepped forward despite the instinctive pull to retreat. "I did not summon you."
You destabilized containment, the voice replied. Summoning is irrelevant.
Nyxara moved beside him. "You were sealed."
Incorrect. We were deferred.
Aerys felt the truth of it ripple through him.
"You are instinct," he said slowly. "Unfiltered."
We are response, the voice corrected. To dominance. To worship. To imposed order.
The Alphas shifted uneasily.
Seris hissed under his breath. "This is what they buried."
Nyxara's voice trembled, but held. "You cannot manifest fully. Not without destroying the vessel."
We do not intend to manifest, the voice replied. We intend to coexist.
Aerys's blood ran cold.
"With me," he said.
Yes.
Nyxara turned sharply toward him. "No."
Aerys did not look at her. "This is what they fear."
"They fear loss of control," she said urgently. "Not your death."
We require alignment, the voice continued. Not obedience.
Aerys exhaled slowly. "Then hear this."
He raised his head, meeting the distortion where eyes might have been.
"I will not be consumed."
Silence.
We did not propose consumption.
"Then what?" Aerys demanded.
We will amplify what already exists.
Nyxara grabbed his arm. "Aerys, if you accept anything from this, you cannot undo it."
Aerys met her gaze. "I know."
Seris stepped forward. "If this thing bonds with him, the gods will raze everything between here and the capital."
Aerys nodded. "Then they will expose themselves."
The shape pulsed.
Decision acknowledged.
The ground split.
Heat surged upward, not burning, but awakening. Aerys gasped as something unfurled inside his chest. Not foreign.
Familiar.
Instinct stripped of command.
Choice without permission.
Nyxara cried out, grabbing him as his knees buckled.
"Aerys," she said desperately. "Stay with me."
He clenched his teeth, breath shaking. "I am here."
The voice receded, leaving behind silence that felt… heavier.
The ash settled.
The shape dissolved.
Gone.
The Alphas stared in stunned silence.
Seris broke it first. "You are still breathing."
Aerys laughed weakly. "That was not guaranteed."
Nyxara pressed her forehead to his. "You frightened me."
"I know," he whispered. "I am sorry."
She pulled back just enough to look at him. "You cannot do that again."
He hesitated.
Nyxara saw it.
"Promise me," she said.
Aerys opened his mouth.
The air split again.
Light this time.
Brighter. Sharper.
Sanctified.
Seers emerged across the Barrens, more than before. A dozen at least, forming a wide arc.
At their center stood a figure robed in white and gold, face uncovered.
Nyxara froze.
"No," she whispered.
Aerys followed her gaze. "You know him."
"Yes," she said, voice hollow. "He is not a Seer."
The man smiled calmly. "Nyxara."
Her hands trembled.
"He is a god," she said.
The god's gaze shifted to Aerys.
"And you," he said pleasantly, "are an error that has grown inconvenient."
Aerys straightened despite the ache still burning in his chest. "You took your time."
"We were curious," the god replied. "Now we are concerned."
Nyxara stepped in front of Aerys. "You will not touch him."
The god regarded her gently. "You misunderstand."
He raised his hand.
"I am not here for him."
Nyxara's breath hitched.
"I am here," the god said softly, "to take back what you stole."
Aerys felt Nyxara tense against him.
"What did you steal?" he demanded.
The god's smile faded.
"Hope," he said. "In its most dangerous form."
Nyxara closed her eyes.
Aerys tightened his grip on her hand.
The god stepped forward.
"And this time," he continued, "I will not let you choose."
The god did not rush.
He walked as though the Ash Barrens belonged to him, each step steady, unhurried, certainty woven into every movement. The Seers parted for him without instruction, heads bowed, bodies tense with reverence and fear.
Nyxara stood frozen.
Not in terror.
In recognition.
"You should not be here," she said, voice tight. "You swore never to manifest again."
The god smiled faintly. "I swore never to interfere directly. You broke the balance first."
Aerys felt the shift immediately. The Presence recoiled, not retreating, but drawing inward, wary.
"You are afraid of him," Aerys said quietly.
The god's gaze sharpened. "Careful."
"No," Aerys continued. "You are afraid of what he represents. Something you cannot overwrite."
Nyxara grabbed Aerys's arm. "Stop."
The god studied her closely. "You taught him defiance well."
"I taught him restraint," Nyxara replied. "Something you never valued."
The god sighed softly, almost regretful. "You were always like this. Too attached to possibility."
"What you call possibility," Nyxara snapped, "is what keeps the world from stagnating under your rule."
The god's expression hardened.
"This world exists because of us," he said. "Because we accepted the burden of order."
"You accepted worship," Aerys replied. "Not responsibility."
A murmur rippled through the Seers.
The god raised a hand.
Silence fell instantly.
"You mistake survival for virtue," the god said. "You mistake endurance for freedom."
He turned his gaze fully on Aerys.
"And you mistake yourself for irreplaceable."
Aerys met his eyes without flinching. "If I were replaceable, you would not be here."
For the first time, irritation flickered across the god's face.
Nyxara stepped forward. "If you are here for me," she said steadily, "then leave them."
The god looked almost amused. "You still think in trades."
"I think in consequences," Nyxara replied. "Take me, and this ends."
Aerys turned sharply. "No."
Nyxara did not look at him. "Aerys, listen to me."
He grabbed her wrist. "I will not lose you because they demand it."
Her voice softened. "You will lose everything if you refuse."
The god watched them with interest. "How touching."
He gestured lightly.
The air constricted.
Nyxara gasped as invisible force wrapped around her, lifting her feet from the ground. Aerys reacted instantly, instinct surging, the newly awakened force inside him flaring in response.
The Ash Barrens trembled.
"Aerys," Nyxara said sharply. "Do not."
"I will not let him take you," he growled.
The god's eyes widened slightly. "There it is."
Power surged from Aerys, raw and unstructured, cracking the sanctified bindings around Nyxara. The Seers staggered back, some collapsing to their knees.
The god's smile vanished.
"That should not be possible," he said.
Aerys stepped forward, fire burning behind his eyes. "You built a system that feeds on obedience," he said. "You never accounted for refusal amplified."
Nyxara dropped to the ground, gasping. Seris caught her before she fell.
"Aerys," she whispered urgently. "Stop. You are tearing the balance."
The god raised both hands now.
Reality folded.
The sky darkened unnaturally, stars vanishing as if erased.
"You leave me no choice," the god said coldly. "If I cannot reclaim you, I will remove the variable."
He pointed at Aerys.
Aerys felt it instantly.
Not pain.
Erasure.
The world blurred at the edges, sound draining away.
Nyxara screamed his name.
"No," she cried. "You cannot unmake him. He is bound to me."
The god froze.
"What?" he asked softly.
Nyxara's breath hitched, realization crashing through her.
"I did not just shape him," she said. "I anchored him."
Silence shattered the Barrens.
The god stared at her. "You fused your existence with his."
"Yes," Nyxara said, voice trembling but resolute. "If he is erased, so am I."
Aerys struggled to focus, the pressure easing slightly as the god hesitated.
"You risked annihilation," the god said, disbelief creeping into his tone.
"I risked hope," Nyxara replied. "There is a difference."
The god looked between them, calculation sharp and cold.
"So be it," he said finally. "Then I will take you both."
The ground split open behind him.
A rift.
Not light.
Void.
The Seers stepped back instinctively.
Nyxara turned to Aerys, fear and resolve colliding in her eyes. "If we fall into that, we may not return."
Aerys tightened his grip on her hand. "Then we do not fall."
The god smiled slowly.
"You misunderstand," he said.
The rift expanded.
"You are already going."
The pull intensified, dragging at their bodies, their very presence unraveling.
Seris shouted, reaching for them, but invisible force flung him backward.
Nyxara leaned close to Aerys, voice barely audible over the roar of collapsing air.
"Whatever happens next," she said, "remember this was never about thrones."
Aerys pressed his forehead to hers.
"I know," he whispered. "It was about choice."
The void surged.
And as the world tore itself open, a new voice echoed through the fracture.
Not divine.
Not instinct.
Something else.
Let them go.
The god froze.
His eyes widened.
"Impossible," he breathed.
The voice spoke again, closer now.
You broke the first rule.
Nyxara's grip tightened.
Aerys felt the pull falter.
Hope flared.
"What is that?" he demanded.
The god's expression twisted into something like fear.
"The beginning," he said quietly, "of what even we cannot command."
The rift shuddered.
And then, abruptly, everything went dark.