The flicker of candlelight cast wavering shadows across the stone walls of his chamber. The bustle of court had long faded into the silence of night, and Rythe sat alone—armor shed, tunic loose at the collar, dark hair damp from the bath he barely remembered taking.
He rested on the edge of the long bench beneath the window, forearms on his knees, his gaze lost in the darkness beyond the glass.
He hadn't said Aurean's name aloud in days. Months, even.
But Aurean never truly left his mind.
Not in the burning silence between sword clashes, nor in the quiet between missions. Not in the dreams that came unbidden—haunted by the soft sound of Aurean's laugh, the flash of pain in his eyes the day Rythe walked away.
His hands tightened briefly, knuckles pale.
He hadn't wanted to send him to Virelia. But he had to. There was no place for confusion or emotion when Ardan's enemies were weaving themselves like rot into the kingdom's roots.
Still, it gnawed at him.
"You should hate me by now," Rythe murmured to the night. "Maybe you do."
But deep down, he didn't believe it.
He remembered the last time he held Aurean—the broken strength in his scent, the way Aurean leaned into him like someone trying to remember who they once were. He remembered his rut, the feverish loss of control, the shame that followed.
He remembered the miscarriage. The blood on Aurean's thighs. The scream that Rythe had never heard, but would always imagine.
He lowered his head into his hands.
"I never meant to break you."
But he had. And he didn't know if Aurean could ever be whole again… or if he could be the one to face him when he was.
Outside, a gust of wind stirred the trees, whispering through the courtyard like a voice from far away.
And still, Rythe had no idea that Aurean had already begun his return—not as the shattered omega left behind, but as something more.
Something forged in pain and power.
The morning sun spilled gold across the palace courtyard, bathing the ancient stone in a warmth that mirrored the quiet affection shared between those gathered.
Aurean stood at the center, cloaked in silver and deep indigo. The wind stirred the hem of his travel cloak and tugged at the silk strands of his hair, now longer and tied back in a regal knot—no longer the fragile, grieving omega who had arrived. His bearing was calm, confident… commanding.
Before him stood the Virelian royal family.
Emperor Arcael gave a slight, respectful nod. Rhaellis, calm as ever, held a leather-bound document in his hand. Calyon looked almost proud. Amirei and Selene blinked away emotion, while Eiran leaned lazily against a column, a soft smile on his lips.
"I owe you all more than I can ever repay," Aurean said, voice clear and rich, echoing softly through the sunlit court. "You gave me safety when I needed it most. You helped me find my strength again. I'll never forget that."
He bowed, deep and sincere. "Thank you."
Rhaellis stepped forward and pressed the partnership document into Aurean's gloved hand.
"Virelia and Ardan are now bound by alliance and shared trade. Calatheas will serve as our envoy and representative," Rhaellis said. "Give this to your emperor, Aurean."
He paused. "And tell him that Kaedor will arrive in Ardan once the shipment is ready. He's eager to begin negotiations—though I suspect he's just eager to see you again."
"Also…" Rhaellis's tone shifted slightly. "Tell Rythe… that the Omega Blade will come with the shipment."
That made Aurean's heart clench, though he kept his expression still. He gave a slow nod.
Then came the farewells. One by one, the royals embraced him—not out of duty, but affection. Selene whispered a blessing into his ear. Amirei clutched his hands and told him to visit. Calyon clapped him on the shoulder. Even the Emperor gave him a hug.
And with that, he mounted his steed—tall and strong, bearing the mark of his newly granted estate on its saddle—and rode out of Virelia beneath the rising sun, his cloak streaming like a banner behind him.
He was no longer the pawn who had been broken and cast aside.
He was Aurean of Ardan—wielder of Verethian, and the returning storm none would be prepared for.