Zareth stared into her lifeless eyes for what felt like an eternity. His gaze lingered, as if expecting them to flicker with recognition, with defiance—with something. But they remained empty, hollow, unmoving. A quiet sigh left his lips as he straightened, brushing nonexistent dust from his dress.
"I guess I'll have to wait for you to get better." His voice was calm, yet beneath the indifference, something twisted, something unsettled.
Turning away, he made his way toward the grand stairway—a structure that rose like a monument to his dominion. Each step he took echoed in the silence, a slow, deliberate rhythm of possession. Then, as if answering his presence, a throne manifested at the peak of the stairs.
An ethereal throne—spikes jutted from its back like the jagged edges of a crown, a swirling mist of deep blue coiling around its form. It wasn't merely a seat; it was a symbol. A declaration of power.
"This place belongs to me," he murmured, his voice like a vow.
But the moment his foot landed on the next step, his body went rigid.
Something was wrong.
A ripple, faint but undeniable, coursed through the air. A prickle ran down his spine, instinct screaming before his mind could catch up. Then—
The ground roared beneath him.
The tremors struck like a beast waking from its slumber. Cracks splintered across the pristine floor, racing outward like veins of destruction. Zareth's sharp gaze snapped to his surroundings, scanning, calculating. The New Halcyon had already been chosen—this domain should have been stable. It shouldn't be unraveling.
Yet, the walls trembled. The air thickened with something ancient, something unseen, pressing against his skin like the breath of a phantom.
Through the chaos, his eyes found Kaia.
She hadn't moved.
Her body remained still, her hands limp, but—her lips.
A smile.
Faint. Subtle. But unmistakable.
Then, something gleamed against her chest.
A sudden burst of energy spiraled outward, sweeping through the chamber like an unseen force. Kaia's hair lifted, strands dancing wildly in the current. Her clothes fluttered, and from beneath the fabric, something emerged—something that had been hidden until now.
A locket.
It dangled in mid-air, no longer pressed against her skin but hovering, its surface radiating with an unearthly glow. Blue light pulsed from its center, growing brighter, stronger, like a heart beating back to life. Attached—feathers. Glowing, shifting, burning with a power that did not belong to her.
Zareth's breath hitched.
"What the hell?" His voice was low, but the tension coiled in his frame betrayed his calm.
His steps faltered. And then again, hesitation crept into his bones. Yet, even as his body warned him, his instincts demanded he move forward.
His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms. The veins on his hands bulged as fury licked at the edges of his composure. The walls continued to crack apart, debris breaking loose and spiralling into the air. The tremors deepened into an all-consuming quake, shaking even the throne that had only just formed.
But none of it touched him.
Zareth took a step forward.
And then another.
Slowly. Deliberately.
The storm raged around him, yet his focus narrowed. His entire being honed in on her.
Still, Kaia's smile did not waver.
And then—he saw them.
Her eyes.
They had been hidden behind the long strands of her hair, whipping wildly in the turbulence. But for the briefest second, the wind shifted—and through the gaps, blue met red.
Zareth's world tilted.
Those eyes.
Those damn eyes.
A deep, visceral memory clawed at his consciousness. Recognition surged like a dagger to the chest. That stare—piercing, merciless, filled with something beyond human comprehension.
Whose memories is this?
His heart clenched, a sensation foreign and unwelcome.
He moved.
His body reacted before his mind could catch up. His steps quickened, closing the distance, his hand reaching for her face, for the truth—
But it was too late.
A sudden pressure seized his wrist, stopping him mid-motion.
Zareth's pupils contracted.
The grip was ice. Cold. Devoid of warmth, yet impossibly firm. His gaze snapped upward—
And his breath caught.
A figure stood before him.
Shrouded in shadow, yet painfully real. A woman draped in white—though her robes were pristine, torn, stained with soot and time. Behind her, wings stretched outward, Scorched. Frayed. Ruined.
And her face—
Blonde hair fell in uneven strands, framing a face that should not exist.
But it was her eyes that anchored him in place.
Cold. Calculated. Judging.
Kaia's voice sliced through the moment, distant yet laced with amusement.
"The reason this place hasn't collapsed…"
Zareth couldn't move.
Not yet. Not when those eyes refused to let him go.
"Is because the Halcyon of this domain…"
The grip on his wrist tightened.
A whisper. A verdict.
"Is still the same."
A breath. A heartbeat.
"And still alive."