CHAPTER 40: RETRIBUTION

Those who had once gathered to whisper their frustrations about Thalassaria’s latest ’fancy’ had long been investigating its origin.

If she had truly fallen victim to some human jinx, if her mind had been clouded by a hex, then her transgressions might be forgiven. They would mourn her fall, and seek to purify her soul.

But if this... love... was of her own volition? If she had chosen a human male over all her suitors?

Then there could be no redemption. Only rebellion.

They believed she was too enthralled by her new lover to notice their whispers. That she was distracted... unaware.

But Thalassaria had ruled for millennia. She was no fool.

She had known from the beginning. She had let them conspire. Had watched as they gathered. Had smiled as they plotted, thinking themselves clever.

And now, they gathered in the palace of the Grand Duke of Thal’Azuul, one of the proudest vassal-realms beneath Submareth, nestled deep within the Shivering Sea.

The Grand Duke’s son had long been the most persistent of Thalassaria’s suitors, pursuing her for over a century.

Many deemed him the most worthy to seek her hand in a millennium.

And like the rest, he had been met with silence. With indifference. With her gaze cast past him as though he were a barnacle on her throne.

He had made peace with her disdain, until she gave her heart to a human.

Now he stood before the others, voice sharp with wounded pride.

"It has been confirmed," he hissed. "Our Queen... our goddess... has fallen in love with a human male. There is no spell. No enchantment. No coercion. She chose him. And so, we must act. For the honor of our race, we must depose her. No Naga King could stand beneath such a throne!"

They all agreed. Every man present, princes, generals, highborn lords, nodded in solemn fury.

And in that moment, they sealed their fates.

A soft, amused voice rippled through the chamber like a heat shimmer across still water.

"My, oh, my... What have we here?"

A figure sat upon the Grand Duke’s throne, where once it was empty.

Thalassaria.

Draped in sea-silk and woven currents, her luminous leylines dimmed like candlelight behind frosted glass.

"A gathering of little princelings. So eager to name your treason ’honor.’ But tell me..."

she said, tilting her head, her smile as elegant as it was cruel,

"...is it truly our people’s dignity you wish to defend, or your shattered egos?"

No one answered.

No one could.

The light of her leylines had not changed. Her gaze was no brighter than usual.

Yet to them, it was blinding. Paralyzing. A force ancient and crushing had seized them.

They could not move. Could not breathe. Could not scream.

Thalassaria did not raise a hand. She merely rested her chin upon her palm, and watched.

One by one, they began to drown.

Thousands of Naga, creatures born of the sea, born to breathe water. now clawed silently at their throats as the ocean turned alien inside their lungs.

She was purging the oxygen from their blood. Slowly. Painlessly. Without a single ripple.

And she was smiling.

One by one, they expired, bodies drifting lifelessly through the current, their eyes wide with terror and betrayal.

She watched in silence, lips curled in delight, sipping deep crimson wine.

Vintaged from the heartlands of Dawnhaven.

Not his ships. Not even his wine.

But it came from his homeland. His people. His soil.

She had secured it not long ago, paid in blood and coin, ensuring it would be here, now, close to her lips as the sea turned red.

A part of him, in her, at the very moment she unveiled her gift.

A whisper left her lips, so faint it barely stirred the water around her.

"Caedrion, my love... soon we shall be together. I have removed the final obstacle that dared surround me."

Her gaze grew colder.

"And I expect you to do the same... with that little whore who’s convinced you she is your wife."

---

The sun had barely risen above the cliffs of Dawnhaven when the messenger arrived, bloodied, breathless, but alive.

His news was not unexpected, but still, it hit like a final tolling bell.

Valerius was dead.

In the council chamber, cold stone walls reflected the low light filtering through the stained-glass windows.

The air was heavy with salt and smoke. Baelius stood motionless at the window, his hands clasped behind his back, his form cast in silhouette against the pale orange light.

Caedrion said nothing at first. He simply watched his friend, letting the silence settle. There was a tension in Baelius’ shoulders.

The kind that spoke of old wounds, scars not visible to the eye.

"It’s done," Caedrion finally said, his voice steady. "The man who framed you. The man whose cowardly actions resulted in your mother’s wrongful execution. He will never speak another lie."

Baelius exhaled slowly. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then he blinked, and Caedrion could see the wet shimmer in his eyes, though no tears fell.

"I thought I would feel joy," Baelius said, barely above a whisper. "I thought I would laugh. But all I feel... is tired."

He turned from the window, facing Caedrion fully now, not as a spellsword, not even as the architect of a new world.

Just as a man who had carried grief for too long.

"She died to save me," Baelius continued. "They told me it was hopeless. That no one escaped the Ember Court. But she made it possible. She made it so I could live...."

Caedrion nodded, but remained silent.

Baelius stepped forward, his voice firmer now.

"I know I myself played only a small part ion his downfall... I merely fueled the forges that you used to strip him of his power, his illusions. Even so, I will never forget what you have done for me."

His fist closed and clenched... Then released with Catharsis.

"I never thought what I would do after Valerius was defeated. I... Never expected it to come so soon. I have no place to go, even with his death, I will not be welcomed back to the Ember Court. As Nullborn I was never really welcome to begin with. If you will have me, I wish to continue to serve you, and your vision."

Caedrion stepped forward, placing a hand on Baelius’ shoulder.

"No need for that," he said quietly. "We stand. Together. Always."

For a moment, the silence returned, this time, warm. A silence of understanding, of wounds seen and not spoken.

The kind of silence only shared between survivors who still chose to keep going.

Then Caedrion glanced out the window.

"We’ve won one battle. But the war is far from over. House Ignarion will not take their defeat lying down. Soon we will be forced to press the advantage we have created. Only once your father returns what his ancestors have stolen from mine can we have peace."

Baelius nodded, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Then let’s make sure the old bastard pays for all that he has done."