Chapter 45: The Pantheon's Reckoning (His POV)
A sound split the silence. Not heard. Felt. Like thunder cracking inside my ribs, divine and merciless. My eyes snapped open. Light flared in the corner, golden, blinding, unbearably pompous. Not warmth. Not welcome. Demand. The Pantheon's sigil unfurled across the air, loops of celestial script etched in a brilliance sharp enough to scar. Summons. Official. Binding. Immediate. My jaw clenched. Each word burned across the air like a gavel slamming against my skull:
Malvor, God of Chaos, you are hereby summoned to the Pantheon. Attendance is mandatory. Time: Now. Purpose: Response required for destruction of the Citadel of Valor. Wear something appropriate.
I hissed under my breath. "Wear something appropriate?" My voice could have slit glass. "Are they joking?"
Annie shifted in my lap, still asleep, face pressed into my chest, breath slow and steady. My arms tightened reflexively around her before I forced myself to ease my grip. I glared at the summons, as if my stare alone could unravel it.
"If they wake her…" My voice dropped to a whisper edged with steel. "I swear to every gilded hypocrite up there, I will tear their sanctimonious throats out."
The air pulsed in response. Urgent. I did not move. Did not answer. Did not submit. My hand found her hair, fingers sliding gently through it, grounding myself in the silk of her rest. "She is sleeping," I whispered, every word deliberate. "She is healing."
My eyes burned gold now. Not with mischief. Not with play. With warning. With my deep well of magic. Ready to lash out. The sigil flared again, sharper this time, an additional word scrawled in jagged light across the script: NOW.
A growl rumbled through me, low and dangerous. "I hope you choke on your own formality."
Carefully, I shifted Annie back onto the bed. She murmured something soft, curling instinctively toward the place I'd left, chasing the warmth of me in her sleep. The bond tugged hard, begging me to stay. But gods do not ask. They summon. The soft cotton of my sleep shirt dissolved from my body, and in its place, chaos tailored itself into war paint.
Emerald silk poured over my frame, clinging sharp and perfect, silver-threaded runes crawling across the fabric like captured starlight. A vest glittered with diamonds, chain link embroidery catching light like teeth. And the cloak. Oh, the glorious cloak. Peacock feathers cascaded from my shoulders in a storm of iridescent arrogance, pinned by twin crowns that gleamed like mockery itself. Each jeweled eye shimmered with defiance, daring anyone to meet my gaze and not drown in it. My shoes gleamed, silver wings curling at the toes in a vicious parody of holy sigils. The cufflinks, because of course I had cufflinks, read in painstaking embroidery: Mandatory This, You Self-Righteous Pigeons.
I caught my reflection in the nearest shimmer of glass. I smiled wide. The very picture of sin, wrapped in silk and scorn. The portal tore open with a rush of air, and I stepped through without looking back. I didn't dare. Leaving her asleep, even in Arbor, felt like peeling my own ribs open. Every instinct screamed to stay. But gods don't ask. They summon. So I promised the only thing I could. I'll be back before she wakes. Or I'll bring the whole damn Pantheon down with me.
The hall of the Pantheon rose around me, trembling under its own hypocrisy. Wards buzzed off-key, cracks split the walls, light filtered through the fractured dome like a wound that refused to close. And I? I walked in like I wasn't the reason it all shook.
Peacock feathers rippled in a jeweled storm across my shoulders, each shimmering eye daring them to stare at me, not at what I'd done, not at what I was protecting. Every step was slow. Deliberate. Predatory. I wasn't just entering, I was distracting. The more they hated the spectacle, the less they thought about her. Luxor's jaw locked the moment he saw me. Ahyona looked down, today the cool-eyed adult. Maximus, bless his rotted soul, raised his goblet in toast. "Fashionably criminal."
Yara clapped slowly, like a lover savoring a performance. "Dramatic, I approve."
Good. Let them glare. Let them seethe. Better me than her. All ten remaining stared at me in judgment. I smiled, sharp enough to draw divine blood. "Well. Looks like someone threw quite the tantrum."
I looked down at the scale live-image model of the Citadel of Valor. Luxor stood, glow sharpened to a blade. "You did this."
"I did," I agreed cheerfully.
Vitaria snapped, voice like glass. "The Citadel collapsed. Mortal temples destabilize. Elemental magic leaks into sanctuaries. This isn't mischief, Malvor. This is cataclysm."
I spread my hands, dripping venom and velvet. "I'm flattered you think I'm that powerful."
Ravina's vine blackened at the edges. I wondered how she was here while the other two perpetrators were currently missing. Maximus chuckled, lazy and cruel. "We're not pretending this wasn't deliberate, are we? Because I love a man who commits to the bit."
Yara leaned forward, lips curling. "Was it personal? Do tell. I live for scandal."
"Enough," Luxor barked reestablishing him being temporarily in charge. His glow cut sharper. "You owe us an explanation."
So I gave it to them. Smile slow. Voice dripping with contempt. "Sure. I did it. I dropped the Citadel. Shattered it. Toppled a realm built on lies. What a shame."
Gasps. Stares. Shock rippled like glass breaking.
"Where is Aerion?" Luxor asked, low, dangerous.
"Not his keeper."
"Where is Korban?" Vitaria asked. Of course the goddess would ask about his only decent spawn.
That name cracked something in me. Silence stretched, taut and dangerous. "Gone," I said finally. "He wouldn't stand down."
Even Yara's smirk flickered. Ravina's vine coiled, pleased.
"You killed him," Tairochi said, not asking.
"He was the only good thing that bastard ever made," I said quietly. "I still did it."
The chamber shifted. Not condemnation, understanding. Until Ravina's voice sliced through the air like a poisoned blade. "What of your mortal, Chaos? You speak of laws broken, but what was done to her was no such thing. Three gods form a Tribunal. Aerion, Navir, and myself stood in judgment. It was lawful. Binding. Justice rendered."
"Justice?" I laughed, a hollow broken sound. "Under Section Twelve of Primordial Code, a god has the right to contest a Tribunal's ruling when the mortal in question is—" I know the law in order to bend it. I stepped forward, voice rising in fury. "—claimed, contracted, or belonging to said god. My claim supersedes your ruling. Per the Code, I have the right to demand review. I have the right to overturn—"
Ravina cut me off with a smile sharp as a thorn. "Your claim is void."
My heart stopped. "The hell it is."
"Oh, but it is." She tilted her head, delighted. "Section Twelve is nullified when the claiming god takes the life of the judging god's claimed property. In this case Korban."
Silence detonated in the room. Maximus, of all people, choked on his wine. "Oh… shit."
Even he understood it. Even he saw the trap. Ravina smiled wider, savoring the devastation. "By killing Korban, you triggered the Law of Balances. The harm done to your mortal was weighed against the life you took. The scales are even. There is no injustice left to argue."
My breath hitched. My world tilted. The truth slammed into me with brutal clarity: Aerion sent his son Korban. Aerion let him walk into my rage. Aerion knew what I would do. Aerion knew Korban would never back down to me. Aerion sacrificed his own son to void my legal right to protect her. Ahyona gasped softly, hand rising to her mouth. Luxor's glow guttered, gold sinking into ash. He understood it too. They all did. Aerion planned it. All of it. I swayed, barely holding myself upright. The realization hollowed me, carved me open. Leyla's voice slid through the chamber, low and final. "The Tribunal stands. The loophole is closed."
My magic snarled beneath my skin. A crack spidered across the glass floor. Luxor flinched as his glow surged in self-defense.
"Then the judgment is passed," he forced out, voice heavy with a grief he couldn't show.
Calavera seized the moment, eager to hide her horror behind bureaucracy. "For the death of Korban, Malvor, God of Chaos, you are hereby stripped of your vote in council. You will attend but not decide."
Tairochi followed, voice like shifting mountains. "For the destruction of the Citadel of Valor, you will stand in silence at Aerion's memorial."
"A memorial? He isn't even dead!"
Luxor's eyes burned into mine. "And yet he is gone. Mortals must be reassured. The Pantheon must stand united. You will attend. In silence."
Ravina's smile spread like rot. "Perhaps then you'll remember that law still binds even you, Chaos."
For a heartbeat, no one breathed. My shadows writhed, smoke made of broken vows. Then I bowed. Deep. Mocking. My cloak flared like fire, feathers whispering defiance. "I'll take your fury," I murmured, smile razor-sharp. "I deserve it. But I won't take it back."
The doors slammed behind me as I left. I didn't stop until I felt her. None of them, law or not, were ever going to take that from me.