Chapter 79: Sunlit House

He had to offer her the choice to go back to the sunlight before they crossed the final pass into the Iron Marches.

If he truly loved her, if he was a father and not a monster, he had to let the little bird fly back to the peaceful garden.

Even if the agony of letting her go would permanently, irreversibly sever his own soul.

***

The twelfth day of the Western transit brought the convoy to the highest and the most treacherous pass of the mountain crags: the Spire of Granite.

The road here was a narrow, unpaved ledge carved directly into the face of a vertical cliff.

To the left rose an unyielding wall of dark, jagged stone; to the right dropped a yawning, bottomless abyss of swirling gray mist and freezing wind.

The sky above was completely blotted out by heavy, low-hanging clouds that scraped the peaks, plunging the midday transit into a deep, gloomy, oppressive twilight.

Inside the mythril carriage, the silence was thick and suffocating.

The magical heating stones were humming at maximum capacity, keeping the internal temperature comfortably warm, but the metaphysical atmosphere in the cabin was hovering at absolute zero.

Seraphina was sitting cross-legged on the velvet bench, her hands resting in her lap.

She hadn’t touched the origami paper all morning.

The thirty-two paper ducks were piled in a neat, quiet heap in the corner.

She looked across the carriage.

Kaelus von Nacht was sitting at his writing desk, but he was not working.

His quills were neatly aligned in their silver tray.

His inkwell was capped.

His mythril-clad hands were resting flat on the surface of the mahogany desk, entirely motionless.

He was staring out the small window at the sheer granite cliff face.

He had been staring at the same patch of passing dark stone for three long hours.

His face was a flawless mask carved from gray marble, his lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.

Seraphina’s Spirit Sight, naturally attuned to his dark mana, felt the disturbance in his core.

His aura wasn’t bristling with killing intent.

It wasn’t purring with protective warmth.

It was completely, totally retracted.

It felt like a massive, heavy iron door that had been violently slammed shut and locked from the inside, completely shutting her out.

"Papa Duke?" Seraphina whispered, her clear, childish voice wavering slightly in the heavy silence.

Kaelus did not turn his head.

His violet eyes remained entirely locked on the dark granite outside the glass.

When he spoke, his voice was not his own.

It was deliberately and vastly stripped of its deep, resonant rumble.

It was flat and mechanical.

It was the chilling, absolute voice of an Imperial Auditor reading a list of confiscated inventory.

"We are approaching the provincial border of the Iron Marches soon, Seraphina," Kaelus said, his words measured, slow, and entirely devoid of inflection. "Once we cross the Spire of Granite, the distance to Oakhaven will exceed operational return parameters."

Seraphina blinked, her small brow furrowing deeply. "O-Operational return parameters?"

Kaelus’s mythril fingers twitched slightly against the mahogany desk, but he kept his face turned completely away from her.

He could not look at her.

He was physically and psychologically paralyzed by the cowardly, monumental dread of seeing her face.

If he met her dark eyes, if he saw her smile, his discipline would shatter, and he would lock her in this carriage forever.

"I have been evaluating the strategic viability of our current arrangement," Kaelus continued, his internal lie tasting like pure, corrosive acid in his throat. "The inspection sectors ahead are highly hazardous. The regional Dukes are aggressive, unpredictable assets. The Imperial Capital is a staging ground for covert warfare. And the Northern Duchy... the Bastion... is a frozen, lightless military installation bordering an active demonic front."

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing over his silk cravat, his violet eyes burning blindly against the glass.

"It is an inefficient, highly volatile environment for a developing core," Kaelus said mechanically. "Contrary to that, Marquess Julian Myer’s domain possesses optimal ambient stability. The city is secure. The climate is warm. The Marquess possesses vast personal wealth, a gentle temperament, and a desire to sponsor an heir."

Seraphina froze entirely.

The air in her lungs turned to heavy, sluggish ice.

’Wait,’ her mind short-circuited, a sudden, cold spike of panic piercing her soul. ’Wait, hold on. What is he saying? Marquess Myer? Developing core?’

"I am... offering a modification to our contract," Kaelus rumbled softly, his voice cracking for a microscopic fraction of a second before he forced the mechanical coldness back over it. "If you desire it... If you prefer the warm clay and the sunlight of Oakhaven... I can legally detach your signature from the Bastion leylines. I can deploy a high-velocity escort to return you to the Myer estate before sundown."

He let the words drop into the carriage like heavy, toxic lead weights.

"Julian will adopt you," Kaelus whispered to the glass, his massive shoulders slumping imperceptibly beneath the weight of his mythril armor. "You will have a big house in the sunlight. You will have normal, mundane children to play with. You will have endless pastries that do not taste of preservation magic. You will be entirely safe. And I... I will ensure the Church never bothers your core. You never have to see the blood or the black stone again."

He waited.

He stared out the window at the lightless gray fog of the mountain abyss.

He braced his physical body for the inevitable impact.

He waited to hear her sigh in relief.

He waited to hear the rational, sensible, clever street orphan calculate the vast superiority of Julian’s sunlit garden over the Reaper’s frozen grave and say: ’Yes, Papa. I want to go back to the sunlight.’

He was fully prepared to sign the papers.

He was fully prepared to order Lucas to turn the carriage around.

He was fully prepared to walk away into the dark and never, ever allow himself to feel human warmth again.