Page 76 of Sundered By Fate

But as he moved, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. A figure, watching from the shadows, its features obscured. But there was no mistaking the smug smile, the gleaming eyes.

Valerian.

Aric's blood ran cold. He'd suspected, but he hadn't wanted to believe it. There was no denying it now—Valerian was behind this attack. Valerian was working with the demons.

Aric's heart pounded in his chest, and he forced himself to look away. He couldn't think about that now. He had to focus on the battle, on saving as many lives as he could.

Aric's breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled forward, his magic flickering erratically at his fingertips. Around him, the battle still raged, the palace guards fighting for their lives againstthe never-ending tide of demons. But Aric had only eyes for the retreating figure of Valerian.

"Wait!" he called out, his voice hoarse from the smoke and exhaustion. "What have you done?"

Valerian glanced back over his shoulder, a glint of something—amusement? Triumph?—in his eyes. "You were always too late, Aric," he said, his voice carrying despite the chaos. "A shame. I'd hoped you, of all people, would understand."

He turned and disappeared into the shadows.

Twenty

The sounds of battle pursued Aric as he tore down the palace corridors after Valerian, exhaustion straining against him with every step. The guards fighting the demons outside the walls were a distant roar now, but the shouts and cries still lingered in his ears, a reminder of the chaos he'd left behind.

Aric's muscles were burning, his lungs fighting for every precious breath, but he pushed himself onward, his mind a swirling maelstrom of rage and confusion. How could Valerian have done this? How could he have betrayed their people, their kingdom, for the sake of what? A little power? A little influence? No, that wasn't right. There had to be more to it, a deeper motive that Aric was missing.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried to see it, to parse the logic of Valerian's actions, all he could find was a bitter void, a darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

He reached the end of the corridor, skidding to a stop before a pair of ornate doors. The King's chambers. Now it felt like a tomb, cold and unyielding, the silence inside a mocking rebuke.

Aric clenched his fists. There was only one way to find out the truth. Only one way to know for sure if Valerian was truly beyond redemption.

The guards flinched as Aric approached, but their swords stayed sheathed as they took in his silver armor. They weren't prepared for anything more sinister than the demons currently clawing through the city, and he didn't want to give them any ideas. He kept his hands where they could see them, his eyes locked on the doors, still only slightly ajar.

Inside, the council chamber was in chaos. King Aster sat slumped in his throne at the far end of the room, his face even more drawn and pale than it had been earlier in the day. Around him, his advisers and court officials were a flurry of motion, their voices a rising crescendo of panic and fear.

"We need to seal the rift," one of them shouted. "But the demons?—"

"They're too strong," another yelled. "We need more mages?—"

"We don't have the strength," a third added, her eyes wide with terror. "Then we must retreat. Gather the citizens into the Inner Ward."

"The wards won't hold much longer at this rate!" Valerian shouted, his voice rising above the others. He was standing near the head of the long council table, his face set in a grim mask. "We need to focus on sealing the rift before the demons break through."

Aric took in the room. He recognized most of the faces—some lower-ranking Pureblade officers, a few others from the Silver Tower, the commander of the city watch, and the head of the palace guards—but it was King Aster that held his attention. His eyes locked onto the king's violet irises, so dark and bright.

"Why is he here?"

The venom in King Aster's voice was searing. Aric would have preferred the king not notice him at all, in his current state.

"Because we need every sword and every spell at our disposal," Valerian said, calm as ever. "And Aric's shown himself to be proficient at both."

"Sword," Aric repeated under his breath.

"Fine. Whatever." Aster waved a dismissive hand. "But keep him out of my sight."

As Valerian motioned for Aric to join the table, Aster's stare followed him, lingering a moment too long. But he said nothing more, turning back to the council table.

Aric took a seat, trying to melt into the background. He was here to help, to do whatever he could to stop the demons' attack. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was a ghost, haunting the court that should have been his, and that everyone in the room wished he would just disappear.

"Now," Valerian said, "let's begin." He nodded to the city guard commander, who opened a map of the city, marking the key points of the demons' attack.

All around Aric, they debated strategies for sealing the rift and driving the demons back. King Aster was fierce, a ruler forged in fire and death, but also a shadow of his former self, hollowed out by loss and betrayal. His presence was a constant reminder of everything Aric had given up, everyone he'd left behind. He was the ghost, Aric thought, watching the council as if from a distance.

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