As sunlight poured into Theana's chamber, she stirred awake, her body feeling slightly lighter than before.
For a fleeting moment, there was peace.
Then her heart nearly stopped. The bed beside her is empty.
Rokhan.
He had been there. She was certain of it. So where had he gone?
And more importantly…What was he about to do?
A surge of panic coursed through her.
Theana rose at once, ignoring the lingering weakness in her body. She hastily donned her robes, her movements unsteady yet urgent, and rushed out of her chamber.
She stopped only briefly—grasping at passing attendants, questioning anyone in sight. Those who crossed her path stared in shock. It had been so long since they had seen her, without her veil and now, her face was marred with bruises, a cruel testament to whatever she had endured.
Some reached out, voices laced with concern, offering to tend to her wound but she brushed past them all. Whatever drove her forward was far more urgent than the pain.
And soon, she had her answer.
'Rokhan had requested an audience…With the Emperor.'
Her breath caught.
No…
Without another word, Theana turned and hurried toward the palace.
She had to stop him.
Inside the palace, upon his throne, Emperor Lennix sat with a cruel smile, his gaze fixed on the man before him—the one he despised above all others. The man who had once shown him such insolence. For years, Lennix had pondered how best to exact his revenge. He knew Rokhan was powerful, a magis bound to a mythical beast.
Non-magis were weaker by nature, but they were not without ingenuity. Through relentless study, his people had uncovered something—orichalcum. A rare metal capable of repelling magic. Not nullifying it entirely, but enough to disrupt it to create an opening for non-magis to strike.
To test its effectiveness, without the knowledge of the other magis, he had used Theana. He cut her when she tried to channel her magic. Struck her repeatedly with it, over and over, until he was certain. It worked. He had even considered carving her face, but refrained—such damage would complicate matters. Still, the results were clear.
And so, he prepared. A select group of elite guards were equipped with orichalcum armor and weapons. The metal was rare, difficult to obtain—but with the empire's trade now flourishing under magis influence, even that obstacle had begun to fade.
Lennix sneered.
Now… Rokhan was the one trapped.
"It seems," Rokhan's voice cut through the hall, low and cold, "you have lost your mind, Emperor Lennix."
Lennix laughed sharply. "How dare you speak to me in such a manner? Are you angry? Angry that your precious chancellor—no, former chancellor—is now in ruins?" His grin widened. "Let me remind you… she serves me. She exists to fulfill my every whim. What I do with her is none of your concern, you worthless worm."
Something in Rokhan broke.
Before coming here, he had already made his preparations. The dark magis within the capital had been summoned, armed, and ready. The other tribes had been ordered to withdraw momentarily.
Because what was about to happen… would not be contained.
Black smoke began to seep from Rokhan's body, curling and twisting like something alive. His presence alone grew suffocating, heavy with killing intent.
Within a breath, he spoke—"Azhdar… release hell."
A voice answered from beyond—deep, ancient, and eager.
"…Gladly, my master."
A deafening shriek tore through the great hall. The sound alone made the air tremble, forcing all within to clutch their ears as their eardrums rang in agony.
Then—It came.
A massive black wyvern burst forth, wreathed in seething dark smoke, its monstrous form tearing into the hall and plunging it into chaos.
Rokhan stood at the center, unwavering. His expression unchanging as he witnessed the terror etched upon the faces of his enemies.
Soldiers clad in orichalcum stood firmly before their emperor, forming a shield of steel. Yet despite their presence, the ever-confident Emperor Lennix now sat cornered—powerless before the overwhelming force before him. Spears coated in orichalcum were hurled toward the wyvern, but each was effortlessly swatted aside, clattering uselessly across the hall.
"Orichalcum…" Rokhan muttered, recognizing the metal instantly. His lips curled into a faint, cold smile. "How clever. I never thought you capable of uncovering our weakness." His gaze darkened. "But to rely on mere rare metals against the power of a magis? Your efforts are in vain."
With a single motion of his hand, the wyvern roared. The sound alone shook the hall as it surged forward, tearing through pillars and stone alike. In one swift motion, it seized the emperor between its jaws, lifting him effortlessly. Its massive wings unfurled, waiting for Rokhan to mount it.
Just as he stepped forward—
"Rokhan! Stop this!"
Her voice.
Theana stood at the entrance, breathless, her body trembling. She looked even weaker than the night before.
Rokhan turned, his expression softening—just slightly. "This…" he said quietly, "is my act for you, my beloved."
Her eyes widened in horror. She understood. Power at this scale was not without cost. He was burning through his own life force. This was no battle—it was self-destruction.
And she could not allow that.
Even if she were to die… she wanted him to live.
"STOP!"
Another voice cut sharply through the chaos.
A non-magis soldier stepped forward, his grip tight around a small boy. Pale silver hair. Fragile frame. A white magis child.
Eomer. Theana's beloved nephew.
Theana's breath caught.
A blade pressed against the boy's throat, its edge trembling with lethal intent.
"Take another step," the soldier barked, "and he dies."
"No… Eomer…" Theana's voice broke. "Don't hurt him… please…"
Rokhan's eyes darkened. This… he had not foreseen.
These wretched men—using a child. Using blood ties. Just as they had once done when they first came to Graiten.
He cursed under his breath.
Everything had just become far more complicated.
A weak chuckle escaped Lennix's bloodied lips as he hung within the wyvern's grasp. "How… amusing…" he rasped. "Such power… yet brought to heel by a mere child…"
"Qalb…" Eomer called out to his aunt's nickname in his small trembling voice.
"Don't worry about me. Do what you must… My heart is with you, Qalb."
Theana's vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes.
"STOP!" she cried, her voice echoing through the shattered hall. "Rokhan… let him go. Now!"
Her heart was tearing apart. But she would end this madness—no matter the cost. Even if it meant… sacrificing herself.
For a moment, everything stood still.
Then, at Rokhan's silent command—Azhdar loosened its jaws.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, the wyvern lowered the emperor and released him onto the ground.
Theana stepped forward, her movements slow. She looked at Lennix and spoke, her voice steady despite her frailty.
"This… is my final bargain. If it is a life you want—take mine."
"Theana, no!" Rokhan roared.
But before he could reach her, a golden barrier surged into existence, sealing her away. Then a radiant phoenix emerged escaping the barrier—Vesta. Its wings spread wide, shielding its master.
Azhdar lunged, claws and fangs crashing against the barrier—but Vesta met him in equal force. The two mythical beings clashed, their power shaking the very air. Darkness against light. Ancient rivals. Neither yielding. Neither victorious.
Inside the barrier, Theana stood trembling, her strength barely holding. Still she raised her hand and began to heal Lennix, mending his wounds slowly as she spoke.
"I…I will grant you extended life," she said faintly. "You will live beyond seventy… when fate had meant for you to fall before fifty."
Her breath wavered, but she continued.
"My life… in exchange for your word. My nephew will take my place as your advisor. He is young—but capable. No harm must come to him."
She paused, steadying herself.
"Rokhan will be spared… but exiled. He must never leave Graitan."
Another breath. Heavier this time.
"My people…" she whispered, her voice thinning, "will remain here… living among yours. No harm must come to them."
Her golden eyes dimmed slightly.
"Let the people live in peace. You may keep your throne… bear your heirs… rule as you wish."
A final breath.
"If you agree… this shall be binding."
Outside, Rokhan's fury knew no bounds. He struck against the barrier again and again, dark smoke raging violently around him—but Vesta held firm.
Lennix watched her in silence.
"…Why?" he finally asked, his voice low. "Why do you care so much for others… that you would sacrifice yourself?"
For the first time—
Theana laughed softly.
A gentle, fleeting smile graced her lips. One Lennix had long desired to see… yet never earned.
"I could never explain it…" she murmured. "And even if I did… I doubt you would understand."
Silence lingered.
Then—
"…I agree to your terms."
Theana smiled.
Slowly, she reached into her robe and drew a small blade. Without hesitation, she sliced her palm. Golden blood welled forth.
She pressed her hand against Lennix's open wound.
Light erupted.
"My life… for your word."
Vesta let out a piercing cry.
Tears of light fell from the phoenix's eyes as it gazed upon its master—one last time.
Then, gently… it began to fade.
The barrier dissolved. And as the light vanished.
Both Lennix and Theana collapsed into unconsciousness.
A scream tore through the hall.
Eomer clutched his head, his small body trembling in agony. While the soldier who held him let him go as he was confused on what is happening.
Eomers' eyes—once blue—burned into gold.
His silver hair shifted, turning into a pure, snow-white hue.
The power surged through him. The will of the phoenix—Vesta—had passed on. He had become the new head of the white tribe.
Rokhan froze as he understood.
And in that instant… something within him shattered.
He rushed forward, dropping to Theana's side. His hands trembled as he reached for her—checking for a pulse.
Nothing. No warmth. No life.
Her body lay still. Lifeless.
Her white hair had softened into a pale yellow—
The same shade he remembered from when she was just a child growing up together with him.
Rokhan's breath caught. His world fell silent.
His beloved…was gone.
Rokhan pulled her into his arms and broke.
A raw, shattered wail tore from his chest—one he could not hold back, no matter how hard he tried. After all those years apart… this was all he was given. One final meeting, when she was at her weakest.
And now… she was gone.
His beloved. His only weakness.
As his grief echoed through the ruined hall, Lennix slowly stirred. He rose unsteadily, his gaze falling upon the scene before him.
Rokhan, cradling her lifeless body. Crying.
A depth of emotion Lennix could neither grasp… nor comprehend.
For the first time, something unfamiliar settled within him. Not fear. Not anger.
Something quieter. Something heavier.
He stood there for a long moment, as if searching for something within himself… and finding nothing.
Then, with a weary breath, he spoke—his voice stripped of its usual arrogance.
"Take her… back to Graitan."
Rokhan did not move or respond.
"Bury her there. Give her a funeral worthy of your people." Lennix's gaze lowered slightly. "My promises to her… will remain binding."
A pause.
"You may leave."
Rokhan said nothing. He did not need permission.
Even now, he could rise—tear Lennix apart, reduce everything to ash.
But the will to do so… was gone.
Because deep within him—he knew.
This was not only Lennix's doing.
He could have stayed. Could have chosen her… over everything else.
Could have spent her final days by her side.
Instead he came too late.
Now—she was gone. Forever.