Chapter 38: The Silent Storm (His POV)
The music swallowed me whole. Yara moved against me like she owned the floor, the rhythm, the night itself, and I let her. Her body was pressed flush to mine, hips grinding in time with the bass, every roll and sway begging for hands I was more than willing to give. I gave it to her. My palms slid down the curve of her back, greedy, fingers digging into the slick silk clinging to her skin. She arched, threw her head back, hair whipping wild and blue, and laughed that bright, daring laugh that always made me reckless. Gods, she was a storm. And I was drowning on purpose.
Her lips brushed my ear. "Still keeping up, Chaos?"
I growled against her throat, biting the edge of her jaw, and her nails raked fire down my chest through the thin fabric of my shirt. The crowd blurred, their cheers and gasps only fuel. I didn't care. Let them watch. Let them see me ruin myself in public. I kissed her. Hard. Sloppy. The kind of kiss that tasted of salt and heat and danger, her tongue tangled with mine, and the pulse in my blood roared louder than the music.
"Fuck," I muttered against her mouth, already dragging her toward the shadowed wall at the edge of the floor. She followed, eager, wild-eyed, her hands clutching at my shirt like she wanted me to tear it open and I almost did. Her back hit stone. My body pinned hers, grinding hard, our mouths crashing again. My hands roamed without thought, too low, too hungry, pulling a moan from her throat that shot straight through me like lightning. I wanted her. Right there. Right then. I didn't care about the gods. Didn't care about consequences. Didn't care about—
And then it hit. The bond. Gone Muted. Silent. Like someone ripped her out of me.
Annie.
Her name slammed through my skull, cutting through the lust like a blade. My breath caught mid-kiss, my body still pressed against Yara's, my hands still on her skin, when I realized. She was gone. I hadn't noticed. Because I was too busy wanting someone else. The bond was gone. Not broken, worse. Muted. Smothered. Like someone had reached into my chest and pressed a hand over my heart until it forgot how to beat. Annie's voice was always there, even when she wasn't speaking. Her emotions had become the background hum to my existence, the rhythm I hadn't realized I'd been dancing to until it stopped. Now, there was nothing. I couldn't breathe.
Yara's voice cut through, sharp, annoyed. "Malvor, what the hell is—"
"Shut up," I snapped, my own voice foreign, too raw, too ragged. My hands trembled as I tried again, portal, bond, something. Each attempt slammed into a wall so absolute it made my teeth ache. Old magic. Older than even me.
"No, no, no, no, no…" The word tumbled from my mouth like a prayer, like a curse. My pulse thundered, chaos magic sparking uncontrolled at my fingertips, threatening to tear open the floor beneath us.
Yara flinched back as the column beside her cracked. "Mal—"
"I said shut up!" I roared. The music faltered. Lights flickered. Heads turned. The entire club seemed to stutter under the weight of my fury. But I didn't care. Because she was gone.
I pressed both hands to my chest like I could tear the silence open with my bare fingers, drag her voice, her warmth, her damn stubborn spark back into me. Nothing. Not Annie's sarcasm. Not her steady calm. Not even her irritation at me yelling. Just silence. Cold. Crushing.
I stumbled backward, eyes burning. "Annie…" The name tore out of me, wrecked and broken. I'd spoken it a thousand times, but never like this. Never as if saying it was the only thing keeping me from unraveling entirely. The gods around us whispered. Watched. But I didn't see them.
I saw only shadows at the edge of the room, old memories rising like bile. Chains. Collars. Silence where there should have been laughter. Not again. Whoever touched her, whoever dared, would wish for extinction. I could already feel the chaos gathering in me, screaming for release. The glass dome above us shook, cracks spiderwebbing across its perfect surface. Magic rippled like an incoming storm, ready to split the sea in two. I didn't care if I burned Yara's realm to the seabed. I didn't care if every god here turned on me. I would find her. And I would end them.
"Annie!" I barked, voice cracking like thunder as I tore through the crowd. "ANNIE!"
I blinked to the bar in a snap of light and sound, my chest heaving, eyes glowing hot with divine fire. The bartender, sleek, silver-skinned, the same flirt from earlier, jerked at the sight of me.
"You." My voice came out ragged, barely human. "Where is she? The woman I was with."
They hesitated. Blanched. "She… she was at the table near the edge—"
"When?" The word cracked like a whip.
"Ten minutes ago? Maybe? She had a drink and then, Malvor, I don't know, I got busy—"
"She is GONE!" My roar rattled the bottles behind them. Blue lightning snapped from my fingertips, arcing over the bar. Glass shattered. Liquor burned. The air itself recoiled. "And you did not even notice."
A hand pressed to my shoulder. Yara's voice, sharp and soft all at once. "Mal, hey, breathe. You probably just lost track of her. It's a party—"
I whirled on her, eyes blazing. "Do not. Do not tell me she's in the crowd. I cannot feel her."
Her words faltered. Her confidence cracked. Then gold light burst at my side, Luxor, immaculate as ever. His gaze swept the wreckage, my stance, the wide-eyed guests. "What's happening?"
"She is gone!" I exploded. "She was right here, and now she's gone. I can't sense her. I can't feel her. Someone blocked me, Luxor. That doesn't just happen."
"That is not possible. Not in this warded realm."
"Clearly it is!" I snapped. "You locked this place with your shiny divine seals, explain how she vanished under your nose!"
The bartender stammered, "She was calm. Drinking. And then… I don't know. She wasn't there."
My hands shook violently. The lights above us flickered. "She would not leave me. Not without a word. Not like this."
I dropped to my knees, pressed my palm to the floor, reached again... nothing. No laughter. No teasing spark. No warmth. Only silence. Luxor stepped forward, calm but strained. "We'll search the realm. I'll lock it down. No one leaves until she's found."
"Not good enough." My voice was quiet now, too quiet, the kind of quiet that preludes storms. "If someone touched her, if someone dared—"
The sentence broke in my throat, but the meaning filled the room like smoke. The music stuttered, then died. Eyes turned. Whispers swelled. I vanished in a blink. Reappeared in the VIP lounge. Lightning followed me like a shadow. "Where is she?!"
"Malvor—"
"Leyla!" I snapped, appearing at her table. "Tell me you saw her."
The shadow goddess startled. "Anastasia? No—"
"She didn't leave," I growled. "She wouldn't."
Another blink. Another target. "Maximus!" I roared, grabbing him by the collar before his words even formed. "Where. Is. She?"
He gaped, cocktail sloshing. "Who?"
"Do not play with me!" I shook him so hard the pearls on his neck snapped loose. "The mortal I brought here. My Annie."
"I, I haven't seen her!"
"Then what use are you?!" I hurled him back, disgust curling my lip. On and on I tore through them, every god, every guest, each one wide-eyed, each one swearing ignorance. And still, nothing. My chest seized. My head pounded. The silence of the bond screamed louder than the thunder building in my veins. The thought slid in, vile and perfect.
Where is Aerion? I froze. Turned.
"Where is he?" My voice cracked the air like lightning.
Yara hesitated, too long.
"I said, WHERE IS HE?!" The room held its breath. When no answer came, my scream split the club apart. Glass burst. The dome trembled. Water outside churned violently as though the ocean itself feared me. My magic spun in my palm, a seething orb of blue fire. My chest heaved, my vision warped. "Someone took her," I whispered. The words carried farther than a roar. Every god, every guest heard them.
"Someone took my Annie." The orb in my hand crackled like a storm about to split worlds. "And I will burn every realm until she is back."
Luxor appeared again, a glowing sigil blazing in his palm. "We've sealed the exits, no one gets out—"
"Too late." My laugh was hollow, broken. "He's gone."
"Who?"
The word tore out of me like glass dragged over skin. "Aerion."
The name dropped like lead. A hush spread, frost crawling down the walls. I turned, eyes burning wild, chaos spilling in bright, snapping arcs. "Call every god. Now. Because if I find out any of you knew, any of you helped—" My fist clenched. Lightning cracked. "You'll beg for his fate instead of yours."
Still nothing. Still silence. The club's illusions shattered around me. Screams. The sea itself convulsed. But I was gone. Vanished in fire and shadow. Every realm knew: someone had stolen from the God of Chaos. There would be no mercy.
The Citadel of Valor lit up the moment I stepped inside. A violent pulse. A shudder of recognition. Acolytes in gold-threaded robes froze mid-prayer. Silver-armored Justicars snapped to attention. The sons of Valor stiffened, hands drifting toward their blades. Aerion's realm had always been a masquerade. Towering marble spires etched with oaths of honor, banners of crimson and gold snapping in the wind, words like truth, duty, glory carved into every surface. But I'd always known the truth. The streets were too clean. The silence too rehearsed. Soldiers too precise, too obedient, their faces blank masks waiting for orders. This wasn't a sanctuary. It was a cage. Tonight, I was tearing the cage apart.
Chaos detonated from me in a violent wave. Stone cracked. Metal warped. The marble saints of Aerion went flying, heads sheared clean off their shoulders. Banners of justice caught fire midair, gold thread burning into ash. The ground itself screamed under my boots as every holy ward buckled and curdled in my wake. Acolytes rushed forward, prayers spilling from their lips in panicked unison.
"Stop! You cannot enter—"
I snapped my fingers. The monk folded inward like parchment in a storm, collapsing into himself with a wet crack before bursting in blood and divine light. Screams erupted. A dozen more charged. Sons of Valor. Warriors of justice. Their blades etched with Aerion's decrees. They died screaming. My chaos swallowed them.
One dissolved into tar mid-stride, armor sizzling as it sank into his bones. Another's steel fused molten to his flesh until he toppled in a glowing heap. A third was dragged upward by invisible strings, body stretched long and thin until he snapped apart like rope in a storm. One begged. I laughed and turned him inside out.
I didn't walk around bodies. I walked through them. Bone and blood clung to my boots, parchment of holy vows fluttering in tatters at my feet. Aerion's name, carved into the stone itself, began to bleed, letters warping into nonsense as my presence blasphemed their sanctity. Arrows rained from the walls. I froze them midair, every shaft glittering like glass, then hurled them back in a storm of jagged shards. They sliced through silver armor like silk. Blood sprayed white walls. Screams became sobs. Prayers fractured into silence.
"WHERE IS HE?!" My roar split the sky. Lightning forked downward, the heavens themselves flinching from me.
A priest, old, too old, stumbled from the smoke, staff cracked in two. He raised his hands like they might matter. "Malvor. Please. This is madness."
My eyes narrowed. "You remember me?"
"Yes," his voice trembled. "You were there when this temple was raised. You protected it once—"
"I did not protect him." My voice was razors. "I tolerated him."
His lips quivered. "Chaos doesn't have to destroy what order built. Think. This is not the—"
I sealed his mouth shut with a flick of my wrist. His eyes bulged, horror dawning as I stepped close and pressed my palm flat against his chest. "Then pray," I whispered, "to whatever power will still listen."
He turned to crystal. Frozen mid-scream. A second later, he shattered. I stepped through his shards. The bronze gates exploded before my shoulder. Guards came. Guards died. Altars crumbled, relics cracked, paintings turned to ash, scrolls blackened at my passing. Aerion's sacred trophies bled golden ichor, his temple groaning as if even the stone wanted to flee me.
I reached it. The throne room. Grand. Glorious. Empty. No Aerion. No Annie. Just silence. I stood there in the wreckage, chest heaving. My eyes still burned, but the fire hollowed as it smoldered, leaving me raw. My heart beat slow, too slow, echoing like a drum in a cavern.
I had burned his temple down to the bones. I had torn his world apart. It had given me nothing.
Where was she? Where was the only thing I couldn't protect? The silence pressed in. My rage faltered. Just for a breath. Just for a heartbeat. In that stillness, I realized, This wasn't victory. It was failure.
A slow, echoing clap broke the silence.
"You always did have a flair for the dramatic."
I turned and there he was. Korban.
Aerion's son. His shadow, his heir, his echo. But not quite him. His hair darker, streaked with steel. Eyes lined from years, not magic. His father's sigil gleamed over his heart, etched into armor scarred from real battles, not temple pageantry. His sword pulsed at his side with borrowed authority. "You've made your point," he said. "You always do. But this" He gestured at the wreckage. "this is madness."
I laughed, bitter. "Korban. Named by your father, weren't you? I'd laugh if it didn't make me want to throw up."
"You're trespassing in a sacred place. Desecrating the seat of Justice."
"Justice?" Chaos curled around my heels. "Your father desecrated it first. He took her. He hurt her. And you, you're standing here defending him?"
His jaw tightened. "My father isn't perfect. No god is. But he isn't a monster."
I stilled. My voice dropped like ice. "Then he didn't tell you."
A flicker crossed his eyes. Doubt. Shadow. Gone in a breath. "You're lying," he said. "You always lie."
"And you," I whispered, pity slicing sharper than rage, "are going to die for a lie."
I didn't give him another word. I surged forward, shadow and fire. Chaos ripped the murals from the walls, buckled stone, cracked the air itself. Korban's sword flared with light, splitting my wave in two. He slid backward, boots grinding against marble, holding the line like a man carved from steel.
"You always were a showman." His eyes narrowed.
"And you always were your daddy's lapdog."
The floor beneath him exploded. He leapt clean, a streak of gold in the dust, blade arcing down. It bit into my shoulder. Fire seared bone. I screamed, and laughed. "Yes! Finally, someone who hits back!"
I grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the floor. Marble cratered. He rolled, kicked free, came up swinging. Steel met chaos. Sparks screamed. Pillars warped into taffy. Gravity buckled. Fire turned colorless, devouring sound. Still Korban pressed forward, every strike clean, disciplined, purposeful. He carved my ribs open. I staggered. Blood spilled. White hot pain made my vision fog. My feral manic kept me standing.
"Yes!" I howled, giddy with pain. Power snapped along my skin like a storm.
I played dirty. Annie's face, conjured weeping before him. Korban faltered. Just long enough. I blasted him across the room. His body slammed the far wall, collapsed. He lay bleeding, unmoving. I stalked forward, boot grinding his chest. Chaos flickered hot in my palms, eyes hollow. "Tell me where he went."
Blood stained his lips, but his stare stayed bright. Defiant. "I don't know. And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."
"He took her. He hurt her."
"Lies," he spat. "He's my father."
"Then he sent you here to die." I leaned close. My words cut like glass. "You're nothing but a speed bump. That's all you ever were."
Something cracked across his face. Not fear. Not doubt. Pain. A wound deeper than any blade. "Then let's hope my death means something." His voice was quiet. Final.
For the first time all night, I froze. I looked at him, not as an obstacle, not as Aerion's son, but as a believer. A man who still thought gods could be just. Gods below, I hated it. I pulled my boot back. My voice cracked, softer than I meant. "Don't. Don't make me do this. You don't have to die for him."
He moved. Not to yield. But to kill. A dagger flashed, small, fast, fatal. "I still believe in him."
I caught it. Time stopped. Literally. The dagger hung in air. Korban froze mid-lunge, eyes wide. The color drained from the world. Chaos bent inward, snapping time into silence.
"You should have stayed down," I whispered.
There was no rage left in me. Only sorrow. Only power. I raised my hand. I unmade him. No scream. No blood. No ash. Just absence. Like time had closed its book and torn out his page. His body fractured into shards of memory, folding inward until nothing remained. Only his sword clattered to the floor. I stared at the empty space. Silence pressed in. The storm inside me didn't roar. It froze. Because I hadn't killed a villain. I had erased a man who still believed.
My boots scraped against the throne room floor as I turned away, chaos flickering like dying embers at my fingertips. My breath shuddered shallow. My jaw locked tight. Not because of the pain in my ribs. Because I wanted Aerion to hurt for this. Instead, I had killed the only one left who thought he was worth saving. And now the scream inside me wasn't fire. It was ice. Sharp. And endless.