Chapter 30 – The Father's Blade
The herald's demand fell like thunder:
"Choose, Maniakes. One parent to save. One to slay."
The chains of shadow writhed tighter, feeding on his torment. Maniakes' knuckles whitened as he gripped his sword, torn between blood and mercy. His breath rasped like a dying man's, sweat and soot stinging his eyes.
Arthelion's face hardened, but his voice cracked like old stone.
"End me, son. Better my death than your mother's."
Salera cried out, clutching Maniakes' shoulders.
"No! He is twisting you. You are not born to kill us—you are born to shatter the gods!"
The herald's laughter split the air, cruel and unrelenting.
"Then strike, boy. Let your blade taste blood. Tyrant or weakling, the world shall know you."
Maniakes raised his sword—but instead of striking, he roared and plunged the blade into the ground. The earth itself screamed as fire cracked open the soil. Shadows lashed him in fury, tearing at his flesh.
The chapter closed with Maniakes writhing in agony, his scream echoing across Zuvendis: not of triumph, but of resistance against the fate binding him.
Chapter 31 – Blood Upon the Throne
The palace shook. Flames devoured its pillars. From the rift, more horrors spilled forth—winged carrion beasts, armored titans of smoke. Zuvendis was drowning.
In the chaos, Arthelion charged forward, blade gleaming in firelight. He struck at the herald itself, crying,
"You will not have him!"
But the herald's hand passed through steel as though through mist. With one effortless motion, it backhanded the king across the courtyard. Arthelion's body struck a wall with a sickening crack.
Salera screamed, rushing to him.
"Arthelion!"
Maniakes, still bound by shadow, saw the blood pour from his father's mouth. Rage flared, brighter than chains, and for a heartbeat he broke free, surging against the god's fetters.
But the herald only smiled, its voice silk over steel.
"Do you see, Maniakes? Love makes you weak. Let him die, and I will make you strong."
The chapter ended with Arthelion coughing blood, whispering words no one else heard:
"My son… forgive… me."
Chapter 32 – The Mother's Fire
Salera knelt beside Arthelion, but even as she pressed her hands to his wounds, she felt the life leaving him. Tears streaked her face, but she turned her fury upward at the herald.
"You may chain my son, but you will not chain me!"
She rose, her hair wild in the storm, her voice carrying the weight of a queen. She raised her arms and began to chant in a tongue forgotten even by the gods—the language of the First Flame, passed only to Zuvendis' queens.
The herald staggered as the air burned with golden fire. For the first time, its voice faltered.
"You dare—!"
Salera's body blazed like a torch of living light. Her spirit poured into Maniakes, flooding him with warmth that burned away shadow. His eyes cleared, his chains cracked. For the first time, he felt the god's grip loosen.
But the cost was clear. Her body withered as the fire consumed her.
"No, mother!" Maniakes cried, clutching her as she weakened.
Her smile was soft, her voice steady.
"Live, my son. Not as tyrant… but as flame."
The chapter closed with Salera collapsing, her body ash in Maniakes' arms, even as the herald shrieked in rage at her defiance.
Chapter 33 – The Tyrant's Awakening
The night turned silent. Maniakes stood amidst ruin, his mother's ashes staining his skin, his father broken and dying. The chains around him lay shattered, burned away by sacrifice.
He rose slowly, blade in hand, but his face was not the same. The boy torn by prophecy was gone. What stood in his place was something darker, forged by grief and fire.
The herald stepped back for the first time, its voice cautious.
"So… you would choose vengeance over crown?"
Maniakes' voice was low, guttural, edged with wrath.
"No. I will choose both. Kingdom and vengeance. Life and death. The gods gave me chains. My mother gave me fire. Now I will reign with both."
Lightning split the rift. Maniakes surged forward, striking the herald with a blow that shattered its form into smoke and screams. The ground itself bowed beneath him, as though the world recognized a new master.
The prophecy's whisper returned, distant but unbroken:
"Tyrant… God… or both. The choice remains."
The chapter closed with Maniakes standing over the battlefield, not as savior, not as villain, but something far worse—a man who had tasted both chains and freedom, and vowed to wield them alike.