Page 144 of Crown of Wrath

Cole

I still feel strange as I look at the Throne made of crystal shaped like dragon fire. It’s been a week since I was brought back from the dead. I’ve spent that week feeling just slightly wrong. I remember all of it now. I remember burning Gethin with an immolation beyond anything I’d ever done in the past.I’d felt my skin burn and heal as I thought of every wonderful memory I’d had with Maeve.

Then I’d felt myself die. My soul had ripped as I was pulled away from Nyth. It wasn’t just separation. It was a sundering—a violent rift splitting me from the world I knew. I emerged into a realm shrouded in endless gray. A wall, impossibly high, loomed overhead, its stone neither smooth nor rough, just… empty, like something unfinished. A great iron door stood at its base, a silent sentinel, and I was pulled through it without resistance.

The world beyond it was almost familiar, but everything moved as if submerged in deep water—sluggish, muffled, stretched thin. Streets stretched into infinity, lined with buildings that bore no defining features, their windows empty as if they had never truly been lived in. People walked those streets, but their movements were burdened, their backs bowed beneath invisible weights. Some carried chains that dragged behind them, others clutched objects they refused to release—fragments of a life left behind, perhaps. Their eyes were dull, unseeing, as if they had long forgotten what it was to truly look at anything with anything but a passing glance.

I stayed at the gate. I had sworn to Maeve that I would wait at the edge of the void, and if this was the void I had been cast into, I would hold on to my promise. Days passed, or maybe it was only hours—it was impossible to tell. Time here had no rhythm, only an endless, creeping sameness.

Pain was my only constant. It gnawed at me from within, a hollow, soul-deep ache. My hands burned with the need to touch her again. My every thought was consumed by the woman I had left behind, the life I had lost. In that gray world, there was no distraction—no work, no battle, no purpose. Only longing. Only loss.

And then the iron door creaked open.

A woman stepped through, radiant and terrible. Her beauty was unlike anything I had ever seen, but it wasn’t the kind that invited admiration—it was something more, something vast and unshakable. She looked at me, and in an instant, the pain that had consumed me fell away. She gathered me into her arms, and I, a warrior, a Prince, became as helpless as a child.

I forgot the ache, forgot the agony. For one impossible moment, I simply existed in the warmth of her presence.

And then, I blinked.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing beside Maeve in Calyr’s cave.

Alive.

The only proof that I ever died is a jagged scar over my heart where Gethin stabbed me. No one except Maeve even knows about it. They all saw me burned on the pyre, though, so as I stand in the Throne Room of the House of Flames, soft murmurs fill the air.

My father stands beside Maeve, Rhion, and Echo, and they’re all smiling. Rhion seems like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders as he looks at me. Maeve’s beaming, and while Echo is smiling, there’s something a little unnerving about it, but that’s normal for her.

“I suggest that my son, Cole Cyrus, become the Conduit for the Throne of Flames, taking my spot. He is responsible for helping to organize the rebellion against Gethin. He is the strongest warrior in the House of Flames and has been raised to sit on the Throne of Flames. There is no one I’d be happier to see succeed me.”

The joy in my father’s eyes is such a strange image. In almost a thousand years, I can’t remember him ever being proud of me. But I also can’t remember a time when he didn’t look overwhelmed. He’s smiling now. He looks like he’s laughed more than he’s yelled. He looks… happy.

“I agree with King Casimir,” Maeve says immediately. “Cole is the only reason that Nyth survived. He was willing to give everything to protect Nyth, and in the end, he did. There is no one I’d rather work with than my husband, Cole Cyrus.”

I smile at Maeve, and her eyes twinkle back at me. She brought me back from the dead. She did what everyone considered impossible.

And she’s changed the future of Nyth forever.

Echo speaks up, her quiet voice somehow loud enough to silence the crowd of High Fae nobles. “Cole Cyrus died for us. He gave everything he was for this world, for the people who cared so little for what happened that they allowed Gethin to nearly eliminate everyone else with any genuine power. Cole Cyrus is the Immortal that would be best suited for sitting on the Throne of Flames. I support him, but I do not wish to push this burden on him. He has given enough. No one should expect him to stand as we face this new era—an era with a true enemy that we barely understand.”

“I choose to stand against it,” I say. “It is the burden I was born to carry, Queen Echo. It doesn’t matter how I feel. Someone must carry it, so let it be me because I can carry it best.”

“The arrogance,” Rhion says with a chuckle. “I support Cole becoming King of Flames because it’s the only thing that makes sense. I know we’re supposed to do this to prevent what happened to the ones before us, but come on. This is ridiculous. No one else is going to be a better King of Flames than Cole. There. It’s unanimous. Let’s all drink to a new era where my father isn’t ruining things.”

He doesn’t say anything else or even wait for the crowd to make way. He just trudges through them, forcing the people to get out of the way or be knocked down.

My father approaches, and for a fleeting moment, there is joy in his eyes. But then it fades, just a little.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t the father you wanted,” he says. His voice is quiet, stripped of its usual authority. “I didn’t have the kindness a father should have for his child. I...”

I shake my head. “I understand now.”

He blinks, searching my face. I stare into the eyes that held so much fury for so much of my life, and for the first time, I see past it. He hadn’t wanted to be this way. Just like I had been forced to do terrible things as the Shade, he had been forced to shape me into something that could survive. He had to be the fire that tempered me.

“You did what you had to do,” I say, and the anger I carried for so long isn’t there anymore.

His breath shudders. “I should have trusted that you’d be strong enough,” he whispers. “I should have... I should have been your father first and your King second. That’s the difference between Maeve and me. She was willing to sacrifice the world for you, and I sacrificed you for the world.”

Except that isn’t true.

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