Fatal Bonds

It's a tomb in mourning. His tower. I can feel its vacancy from below. I dismount Omen, who whinnies with agitation. I spring up onto the first ledge, gripping the familiar lattice of ivy and stone bricks with ease. With memory. My blood throbs in my veins. My pulse cracks against my throat like thunder. I climb swiftly, silently, as I always do.

I reach for the window frame and push it open, soundlessly. My heart gripes in my ribs. He should be there, here - waiting for me right now. I slide through the window, landing with a careless thud.

The room smells like Cassian.

Clean leather. Fresh parchment. A hint of ashes and ink from near the fireplace. The bed is still made from the early coronation call. Sunlight flows across the floor in a soft gold, gathering around my muddied boots.

Except, something is wrong.

I sprint to the door, yanking it open, boots pounding down the winding stairs that spiralled through his tower. Down and down I go, flying past the echoing halls. The closer I get to the ballroom door, the colder the air becomes. And quieter.

There's no music. No voices. No cheer. Not anymore.

When I burst into the ballroom, it's already empty.

Abandoned.

Banners dangle from nearly every point in the room, and the royal balcony holds an empty throne. No Tallone, no Cassian. It's almost as if the coronation never even happened.

But it did. And something worse. I feel it.

I feel it as my eyes stop at the throne room doors. One of them is ajar. Everything inside of me pummels. Suspending in time - my blood, my heart. I sprint to the doors and shove them open. My world stops.

Blood streaks the marred tiles.

Cassian lays crumpled by the throne, his blood darker than that of the carpet.

His ceremonial tunic, stained red, his chest rising faintly - barely - and a trembling hand twitched toward the throne he was meant to have.

Centiel isn't here. Tallone isn't here - they're gone.

The light from above starts to dim.

I drop to my knees beside him, shattering. "Cass -" My voice breaks. "No. No, no - open your eyes."

Cassian stirs faintly, his long lashes fluttering. A whisper passes his lips, "...Azael?"

My hands tremor as I pull him close. "I'm here. I came through your window like always." A bitter smile through scorching tears streaming down my mouth. "Still open."

Cassian's breath hitches.

"Too late," he croaks, face strained with agony.

"Don't you dare," I hiss, clutching him tighter. "You are not dying, Cassian. You cannot."

He tries to lift his hand. Instead, it falls weakly against my chest. "He... he took my blood. My own father."

My entire body went still.

The thought ignites something in me. Something greater than violence, darker - much, much darker, crackling beneath my skin.

"You're going to be alright," I lie, I lie, brushing his blonde, blood-matted curls from his forehead. "I'll kill him. I'll rip his immortality from his throat."

Cassian tries to smile. "He's not my family, Azael. You are."

I inhale the air like a glass of shard in my throat. "We are, Cassian. We're brothers."

His pupils tremble. "What?"

"Our mother, Cassian. Tallone's not my father, but..." I cradle the back of his head, firmly, gently. Not letting go. "It doesn't matter. You're my brother, Cassian. You were never alone. You always have me."

Tears pool in his eyes, bluer than ever.

Then the light begins to fade from them.

"No," I breathe. "No - no -"

But Cassian's body slackens in my arms.

And the boy who should've been king is gone.