Sigora blinked, her breath hitching at the unexpected warmth.
"But listen carefully," Jorghan added, stepping past her, his aura flickering like heat from a fla.
"I won’t bow.
I won’t thank them.
And I won’t pretend to respect them. They can recognize the Sol’vur na if they want—but it won’t change how I see them."
He paused.
"If they fear ..."
A small, dangerous smile curved his lips.
"...that’s good. Fear keeps people honest."
Sigora exhaled, torn between relief and concern.
"I will co with you and stay with you at the eting."
"What about the rest of us?" Sarhita asked.
"Can we co?"
"The ceremony is for clan heads and their direct representatives," Sigora explained.
"But there will be a gathering afterward, open to all. You can attend that portion."
Sigora’s eyes moved to Swana. "You will stay here and take care of the clan; I’m sure your father would want you here too. Take care of Scarlett and that woman Grace; don’t let her out of your sight."
Swana’s expression flickered, sothing complex passing across her features at the word "family"—but she nodded curtly.
"Fine."
Sigora added, "Your brothers will be with you, Swana."
She nodded.
"Scarlett needs ti anyway," Swana added gently.
"Ti to process, ti to recover. We’ll take care of her."
Jorghan looked at her and said, "Thank you, Swana; please do."
He turned to Sigora and said, "Now tell about the clans."
*
The next few days passed in relative quiet.
Jorghan continued recovering, his strength returning gradually but steadily. He spent ti with Scarlett, finding her curled up in Swana’s dwelling, trying to work through the trauma of witnessing such overwhelming violence.
"I thought I understood what you were," Scarlett said quietly when he sat beside her.
"I knew you were strong, knew you were dangerous. But seeing it again, every ti is different. You killed thousands of people, Jorghan. Thousands. Like it was nothing."
"It wasn’t nothing," Jorghan replied, his voice gentle but honest.
"Every death registered. Every life I took was a choice. But they ca to kill elves, to slaughter settlents, to destroy families. I did what was necessary to protect people I care about."
"Does it bother you? The killing?"
"Yes. And if it ever stops bothering , that’s when I’ll know I’ve lost sothing important."
He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You don’t have to be okay with what you saw. You don’t have to understand it or accept it. Take whatever ti you need."
Scarlett leaned into the contact, seeking comfort despite her conflicted feelings. "I don’t know if I can stay here. In the desert, where this kind of thing happens."
"That’s okay too. Whatever you decide, wherever you want to go, you’ll always have a place with us if you want it."
She nodded against his shoulder, not committing to anything but appreciating the reassurance.
***
House Carrow - Imperial Capital
The private dical wing of House Carrow humd with advanced technology and magical healing matrices working in concert. It was the house of Yaelena; after her husband’s death, she was staying with her side of the family, and so were her children.
Caden lay on a specialized bed, his body encased in regeneration gel that glowed faintly blue, the substance working to repair damage that would have killed anyone without his enhanced physiology.
The Venomous Detri had nearly destroyed him from the inside out. His organs had been failing, his bones fractured in hundreds of places, and his enhanced musculature torn apart at the cellular level.
Even now, fifteen days after their return, he remained in critical condition, alive, but barely.
Constance sat beside his bed, her own injuries treated but not fully healed. Broken ribs wrapped in regenerative bandages, burns covered in healing salves, and countless bruises and cuts marking her pale skin.
She’d refused to rest, maintaining vigil over her brother despite the dical staff’s protests.
Her black hair hung loose around her shoulders, no longer tied back in the practical style she wore for combat. Her eyes, sharp and calculating on the battlefield, now carried exhaustion and worry that she couldn’t quite hide.
She looked every bit the older sister terrified of losing her younger brother.
The door opened, and Yaelena Carrow entered with the swift grace of soone accustod to command.
She was in her late forties, her beauty hardened by years of Imperial politics and military service, her dark hair streaked with distinguished grey. Her eyes, the sa grey as her daughter’s, imdiately went to Caden’s unconscious form.
"Any change?" she asked, her voice carefully controlled despite the fear beneath.
Constance shook her head.
"He’s stable. The doctors say his body is responding to treatnt, but the damage was extensive. The Detri burned through his enhancents like acid. They’re not sure if he’ll ever be combat-capable again, even if he recovers."
Yaelena’s hands clenched at her sides, her carefully maintained composure cracking slightly. "That forbidden drug. Why did he take it? Why did either of you push so hard against a target that intelligence clearly underestimated?"
"Because Father—"
"Your father is dead," Yaelena interrupted, her voice sharp.
"He is no more. And I will not lose my children avenging a man who was not least human. Do you understand , Constance? I will not bury you both because of pride or revenge."
Constance looked away, unable to et her mother’s eyes.
"We thought we could handle him. The reports said he was strong, but nothing suggested he was capable of what we witnessed. He destroyed forty Haelves in fifteen minutes. He created constructs I’ve only read about in theoretical texts. He turned the desert itself into a weapon."
Her voice dropped lower, tinged with sothing that might have been awe or fear, perhaps both. "He was magnificent and terrifying in equal asure. Like watching a force of nature given intelligence and purpose."
"And he nearly killed both of you," Yaelena said flatly.
"You’re my children, not Imperial expendables. Whatever that Sol’vur heir is, whatever threat he poses, it’s not worth your lives."
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