Chapter 85: The Weight Of The Curse

[Later — Imperial Palace — Hallway]

Kael walked down the long marble hallway; his footsteps were quiet, almost soundless.

The imperial palace, usually filled with the movement of servants, guards, ministers, and nobles, seemed strangely distant now. The golden lamps along the walls burned steadily, casting warm pools of light across the polished stone, but Kael barely seemed to notice them.

His eyes remained fixed ahead, and his shoulders were slightly slumped, and his crimson imperial robes, once worn with the weight and authority of the throne, now seemed to hang heavily from his body.

Cedric followed several steps behind him; he said nothing, neither did Veyrith. The black raven had settled upon Cedric’s shoulder, unusually quiet, his dark eyes following Kael’s back.

Both of them could see it; their emperor and their shadow queen looked exhausted, not physically but something inside him had simply… dimmed.

The curse was still echoing in his mind.

Every word, every accusation, and every tear in Nora’s eyes.

I curse you to lose the person you love most. You will cry like I cried. You will live… But you will die every single day.

Kael’s fingers curled slightly, and his breathing became uneven as he continued walking, but the words followed him.

They had followed him from the execution grounds, they had followed him through the palace gates, and they had followed him into the silence of his own mind, and no matter how hard he tried to bury them beneath the responsibilities of an emperor, they kept returning.

Then—

Kael stopped. Cedric nearly walked into him. Veyrith lifted his head, but Kael didn’t turn around; he simply stood there still. His gaze fixed upon something at the far end of the hallway.

Cedric slowly followed his line of sight. Veyrith did the same, and there beneath the golden glow of the palace lamps stood Lytharion.

The Shadow King hadn’t moved; he simply watched. His golden eyes were already fixed upon Kael, and for several heartbeats, neither of them moved.

Amber met Gold, and in that single exchange, there were no titles. Only two souls standing beneath the weight of something neither could put into words.

Kael’s eyes were hollow. Lytharion’s were no different; the ancient god had seen Kael survive nobles. He had seen him stand before armies. He had seen him face assassins without flinching; he had watched him walk into the realm of gods and return, but he had never seen him like this.

Broken without being shattered and breathing without truly seeming alive. Lytharion took a step forward; his boots touched the marble.

Slowly.

Another step.

His gaze never left Kael. Kael didn’t move, and Lytharion continued toward him, closing the distance between them one step at a time.

Behind Kael, Cedric lowered his head; he understood that there was nothing he could do here, nothing anyone could do.

Lytharion reached them; his golden eyes briefly shifted toward Cedric.

“Leave us alone.”

Cedric bowed immediately; he turned and began walking away. Veyrith remained perched upon his shoulder, but before leaving, the raven glanced back.

His dark eyes lingered on Kael, then on Lytharion. The bird seemed to understand something even words could not explain, and he finally followed Cedric down the hallway.

Their footsteps slowly disappeared until there was nothing left, only silence. Kael and Lytharion remained, neither speaking.

Neither needed to.

Kael continued staring into Lytharion’s eyes, and Lytharion continued staring back. The distance between them was only a few steps now, but somehow, it felt enormous.

Kael’s lower lip trembled…just once, so faintly that another person might have missed it but Lytharion didn’t.

His expression changed and something inside those ancient golden eyes broke. He stepped forward until there was no distance left between them.

Lytharion reached for Kael, his arms wrapped around him, warm, firm, and protective. He pulled Kael against his chest, holding him as though he could shield him from every cruel word the world had ever spoken.

Kael remained still for one heartbeat, and then his face pressed against Lytharion’s chest. His hands hung uselessly at his sides, his breathing trembled and then—

“…hnghhhh…”

The sound escaped him, small and broken. Kael’s fingers slowly curled into the black fabric of Lytharion’s robes, his forehead pressed harder against his chest, and suddenly, the Emperor of Qashmar began to cry.

Silently.

There was no scream, no sob loud enough to echo through the hallway. Only the quiet, shattered sound of someone who had been holding himself together for far too long.

His shoulders trembled, and his fingers tightened around Lytharion’s robes as his entire body began shaking.

Lytharion held him closer, his arms tightened around Kael’s trembling body. One hand rested against the back of his head; the other remained firmly around his waist. He didn’t ask what was wrong, he didn’t tell Kael to stop crying, and he didn’t try to explain the curse.

There were no words capable of touching this kind of pain, so Lytharion simply held him, and Kael cried. The tears soaked slowly into the black fabric against his face.

His breathing broke again as a quiet, strangled sound escaped his throat. His body trembled harder.

Lytharion closed his eyes, and for the first time in centuries, the Lord of Darkness looked helpless. His hand moved gently through Kael’s hair.

Slowly and carefully.

Again.

Again.

As though the smallest movement might somehow keep Kael from falling apart completely. Kael’s fingers remained clenched against him; he held onto Lytharion as though he were the only solid thing left in the world, as though letting go would mean hearing Nora’s curse all over again.

You will lose the person you love most.

Kael’s breath hitched, his body shook violently. Lytharion’s arms tightened immediately as his golden eyes opened.

Pain filled them, not fear for himself but a fear for Kael. Because he knew exactly what was haunting him, he knew the curse had found its way beneath Kael’s armor.

Past the crown. Past the title. Past the emperor and reached the frightened soul underneath. The man who had already been threatened too much.

The man who had once died in another life and the man who had finally found his way back to the person he loved.

And now…someone had planted the fear of losing him all over again. Kael’s tears continued falling, quietly and endlessly. His face remained buried against Lytharion’s chest; his trembling slowly became weaker, but he still didn’t let go, neither did Lytharion.

They remained there beneath the golden palace lamps, the Emperor of Qashmar crying silently in the arms of the god of shadows and the god who had once feared nothing, holding the only person in existence who could make his immortal heart ache.

Neither spoke nor moved away, and for that moment, the entire world could wait.

There was only Kael’s trembling body… Lytharion’s arms around him… and the silent tears that neither of them could stop.

***

[Emperor’s Chamber—Later]

The chamber was quiet, only the faint crackling of the fire disturbed the silence, its warm light spilling across the marble walls and turning the room soft with amber shadows.

Kael lay beneath the dark silk sheets, his head resting against the pillows, his eyes closed.

They were swollen from crying, the skin beneath them still faintly flushed. Even in sleep, there was a trace of exhaustion upon his face, as though the grief had drained something deeper than his strength.

Lytharion lay beside him; for a long while, he simply watched and made his heart ache the way Kael’s tears had.

Slowly, Lytharion lifted his hand.

His fingers brushed beneath Kael’s eye, gently and carefully. He traced the swollen skin with his thumb, almost as though he could erase the pain simply by touching it.

Kael’s lashes fluttered. Lytharion leaned closer; his lips touched Kael’s forehead with a soft kiss.

“Are you well now, beloved?”

Kael remained still for a moment, then his eyes slowly opened. Amber met gold; there was no strength in his gaze, yet only exhaustion, and beneath it, fear.

“Will I ever be?”

The question was barely a whisper. Lytharion didn’t answer immediately; his thumb continued brushing beneath Kael’s eye. Instead, his hand moved upward, slipping gently into Kael’s hair.

His fingers combed through the strands slowly.

“Do not think of anything right now.”

Kael stared at him for a heartbeat; he said nothing. Then his gaze drifted toward the ceiling; the silence stretched between them.

The curse returned to his mind.

“Do you think…” His voice faltered; Lytharion looked down at him as Kael hesitated before finally asking,

“Do you think the curse will be true?”

The question lingered between them. Lytharion’s golden eyes softened; his hand continued moving slowly through Kael’s hair. He knew there was no simple answer.

Fate was not a thing even gods could always command. Prophecy had existed before kingdoms, before empires, and before mortal bloodlines had names.

And yet… Lytharion had never believed that fate was absolute.

“Everything is about fate, beloved.” His fingers gently brushed Kael’s temple. “Whether someone cursed you or not…you will bear whatever has been written upon your path.”

Kael’s eyes lowered; the words should have frightened him. Instead, Lytharion’s voice carried something strangely calm.

Something steady.

“But…” His thumb returned to Kael’s swollen eye. “…sometimes fate can be rewritten.”

Kael looked at him. Lytharion held his gaze. “If two souls refuse to give up on each other.”

For a moment, Kael simply stared at him; the words settled somewhere deep inside his chest, not a promise that nothing would ever hurt and not a lie that fate could be destroyed.

Something quieter and something stronger.

A choice.

Kael slowly moved closer, his forehead resting against Lytharion’s chest. Lytharion immediately wrapped an arm around him. Kael closed his eyes again.

This time, his breathing was steadier, his fingers lightly curled into Lytharion’s robes, and the god lowered his chin against Kael’s hair.

Neither spoke.

They simply remained there, warm beneath the blankets. Close enough to hear each other’s breathing; for the first time since the execution, Kael’s heart did not feel completely alone with its fear.

Perhaps the curse would come true. Perhaps fate would demand something neither of them could escape. Perhaps the gods themselves would eventually stand against them.

But tonight—Kael was still here, Lytharion was still here, and their hands were still intertwined, and perhaps, that was enough.

Outside the chamber, the moon climbed higher above the imperial palace. Its silver light slipped through the curtains and touched the two figures lying together upon the bed.

The two souls refusing to let go of each other and somewhere between fate and the darkness waiting ahead, their story continued, and they do not know will they have a beautiful life in this life too or…have to say goodbye again.