The Sun Tower was an architectural masterpiece, a spiraling needle of white marble and pure gold that pierced the sky. But as Kaelen and I dismounted at the base of its grand, sweeping steps, the pristine white stone was already slick with the blood of the High Council's final defenders.
"Hold the perimeter!" Gamma Silas's voice cut through the din of battle like a whip. He adjusted his perfectly round spectacles, calmly stepping over the bisected corpse of a Paladin. "No one enters the tower but the King and Queen. Let no aristocrat flee the city."
I looked up at the massive, gilded double doors of the tower. They were sealed shut, etched with desperate, glowing runes of corrupted holy magic.
"They locked themselves in," Kaelen rumbled, his massive chest heaving, his pitch-black armor practically humming with abyssal violence. The frost-forged broadsword in his hand dripped with a steady rhythm of crimson.
"A lock only works if the door remains standing," I replied calmly.
I didn't bother using ice or kinetic force. My veins were practically overflowing with the pure, ancient magic I had ripped from the Aegis Wards. I raised a single hand. A concentrated beam of absolute, blinding white light shot from my palm, striking the center of the gilded doors.
The heavy gold didn't just melt; it instantly vaporized with a deafening CRACK, leaving a massive, smoking archway into the heart of the tower.
Kaelen let out a low, predatory growl of approval. He stepped through the smoke first, his massive frame shielding me entirely, his Lycan senses scanning the cavernous foyer for threats.
The interior of the Sun Tower was suffocatingly opulent. Massive crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, casting fractured rainbows across the marble floors. But the air reeked of burning incense, ozone, and raw terror.
Waiting for us at the base of the grand spiraling staircase were fifty Blood Priests.
Having seen their "Holy Magic" fail, they had resorted entirely to the dark arts. They were chanting in a frantic, guttural language, their white robes stained with fresh sacrifices. In their hands, they wielded whips made of coagulated, burning blood—foul, necrotic weapons designed to bypass physical armor and scorch the soul directly.
"Blasphemers!" the Lead Priest shrieked, his eyes rolling back in his skull. "You have broken the holy seal! You will drown in the blood of the martyrs!"
The priests lashed out as one. Fifty burning blood-whips snapped through the air, converging on Kaelen.
"I am the King of the Dark," Kaelen roared, his voice vibrating with such concussive force that several of the chandeliers shattered above us, raining crystal shards like deadly hail. "Your cheap parlor tricks do not frighten me!"
Kaelen didn't dodge. He surged forward, taking the burning lashes directly against his armor. The necrotic magic sizzled violently against his abyssal aura, but it couldn't penetrate his sheer, monstrous willpower.
He swung his broadsword in a devastating, horizontal arc. A shockwave of freezing dark magic erupted from the blade, slicing through the first ten priests before they even had time to blink. Their bodies fell to the marble in neat, frozen halves.
I stepped out from behind him, my eyes glowing like twin supernovas.
"And I am the light that cleanses," I whispered.
I raised both arms, unleashing the newly reclaimed magic of my ancestors. A localized, blinding blizzard of pure white fire swept through the foyer. It didn't burn the marble or the tapestries; it targeted only the corrupted magic of the Blood Priests.
The white fire washed over them. Their blood-whips instantly evaporated into harmless steam. The priests didn't even have time to scream as the purifying light purged the necrotic magic from their veins so violently that their hearts simply stopped.
Within thirty seconds, the foyer was dead silent, littered with fifty pristine, unblemished corpses.
Kaelen shook the blood from his blade, his crimson eyes locking onto the spiraling staircase that led to the pinnacle of the tower.
"Lucius is out of pawns," Kaelen growled, reaching out to wrap his massive, gauntleted hand around mine. The mate bond flared, hot and utterly victorious. "Let us go collect the King."
We ascended the stairs not as conquerors, but as reapers.