I was bound by a celestial rope, unable to struggle. I could only shake my head. “You’re insane.”
Damon was completely lost to his madness. He heard only what he wanted to hear. He began the ritual, mimicking the High Priest’s actions.
The thunder began to gather.
BOOM!
This time, Damon was confident. He placed the crown on his own head, donned the majestic armor, and, holding hand, stood in the center of
the altar, his face turned to the heavens. “Once I am King, Phoebe,” he swore, “you will be my Queen.”
The next moment, a bolt of lightning struck.
CRACK!
We were unharmed.
A look of wild joy crossed Damon’s face. He squeezed my hand tighter. “It really works!”
Several more bolts fell, and still, he was untouched. He grew more and more delirious, muttering, “Brother, I’ve finally beaten
ng, “Serena, you bitch.”
The final bolt was about to strike.
And then, the others arrived.
The King’s voice was filled with pain. “You unfilial son!”
The Queen wailed, “Damon, how could you do something so foolish?”
The clan members murmured amongst themselves.
and
then
cursi-
“We captured some demons on the front lines. Under interrogation, they confessed that their invasion was a joint effort between their leader and
the Second Prince.”
“Countless lives were lost in the war, and the Second Prince sacrificed our soldiers for his own selfish ambition!”
“Is this man truly to be our King?”
Damon didn’t care. “This was all for my grand destiny. What are a few sacrifices if it means I can be King?”
I said nothing. Across the crowd, my eyes met Xylos’s. There was no doubt in his gaze, only a deep, aching concern. I looked away, back at Dam-
on, and said softly, “But I am not willing.”
Damon didn’t hear me clearly. “What?”
I repeated, my voice clear and firm, “But I am not willing for you to be King.”
The eighty–first bolt of lightning suddenly intensified, striking Damon with a terrifying force. He fell to the ground, a rigid, lifeless form. The heave-
ns, displeased, had severed his very essence with a single strike. His soul began to dissipate.
With his last breath, he looked at me in disbelief. “Phoebe, why would you do this to me? After a thousand years together, do you not love me
anymore?”
I shook my head. “I stopped loving you a long time ago.”
When he gave the aquamarine to my sister, when he chose power over me, when he had me sliced into a thousand pieces… all love had vanished
like smoke.
Lleaned down and whispered in his ear, “I wanted you to die.”
I leaned down and whispered in his ear, “I wanted you to die.”
And then, he was gone.
The Queen, having lost her second son, fainted on the spot.
The King looked at me, his eyes a complex mix of resentment, grief, and helplessness. Finally, he picked up the crown from the ground, wiped away the dust, and said, his voice heavy with sorrow, “My two sons. One died in battle, the other was struck down by lightning for his wickedness. I
other wa no longer have the face to be King. Now, the only one worthy of inheriting the throne is Xylos. To avoid any more delays, I will pass the throne to you tomorrow.”
D
Xylos turned to me. He knew I valued my freedom, that I hated being bound by rules. But he also saw the despair on the faces of his people. With- out a king to lead them, they would soon fall apart.
I gave him a slight nod.
And Xylos solemnly accepted. “Very well.”
Two thousand years later, Xylos passed the throne to a carefully chosen successor. Not long after, we both broke through to a new level of power,
on the verge of ascending to a higher realm.
But we both chose to stay.
Amidst a sea of flowers, Xylos carefully carried me on his back. “My love,” he asked, his voice full of affection, “where should we go next?”
I looked ahead, my heart full of excitement. “Anywhere.”
As long as I’m with you.
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