Chapter Thirty-Six: Ashes of the Crown
"To destroy a tyrant is not the end of the story. It is only the breath before rebuilding begins."
The throne room smoldered.
Outside, the first true dawn in decades stretched across the horizon—no longer obscured by smoke or spellcraft. It bled golden light through shattered stained glass, glinting off crumbling marble and flame-scarred stone.
Kael stood in the ruins, the dead Emperor at his back, the weight of a shattered world on his shoulders.
Riven sat beside him on the broken steps of the throne, head tilted back, eyes closed. There was blood on his mouth, soot smeared across his cheeks, but for the first time… he looked peaceful.
"I thought it would feel different," Kael murmured.
Riven opened one eye. "What, killing a god?"
Kael's mouth twisted in a half-smile. "No. Winning."
A long silence.
Then Riven said, "We didn't win. We survived. That's different."
By midday, the city gates were thrown open.
Rebels who had once hidden in the forests now walked freely through the streets. The people—thin, wide-eyed, half-starved—emerged from their homes like ghosts, blinking in the sunlight.
They saw Kael and Riven not as monsters or rulers, but as survivors. As two men who had carried their hatred and love through fire and death and still come out the other side.
Some bowed. Some cried.
Some simply stood still, staring at the fallen tower that once held the Emperor's will.
Kael felt none of it. Or perhaps he felt all of it—like being crushed by something invisible.
Later that night, in the old royal chamber, Riven stared at the stars from the shattered balcony.
Kael approached quietly, his armor discarded, his shirt stained red.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
"I don't think I remember how," Riven replied.
Kael joined him, silent for a while. The city was quiet. Fires no longer raged. No horns, no war cries, no magic splitting the sky.
Only wind. And breath.
"I saw the Heartflame in you, today," Kael said at last. "You used it."
Riven didn't deny it. "It hurt."
"It's not meant to be painless," Kael said. "Only pure."
"I didn't want it."
"You didn't choose it. But it chose you."
Riven looked at him, eyes dark and tired. "Then what do I do with it now?"
Kael reached for his hand.
"You burn brighter than he ever did. Let that be enough—for now."
The next morning, the city council—what remained of it—met in the cathedral ruins.
They begged Kael to take the throne.
He said no.
They begged again.
He only looked at Riven, who gave him a tired nod, and replied:
"I won't rule with a crown of bones. But I'll help rebuild what we burned."
That night, as the embers cooled, Kael and Riven lay in the ruins of the Emperor's bedchamber.
"I used to dream of this," Riven whispered. "Of burning it all down. Of killing him. Of standing here with you, alive."
Kael curled around him, pressing his lips to Riven's temple.
"And now?"
"Now…" Riven hesitated. "I'm afraid of what comes next."
Kael's arms tightened.
"We rebuild," he said. "Together."
Outside, the city breathed. The world, broken and bloody, began again.
End of Chapter 36