Chapter 286: Her Sacrifice
Seraphina’s POV
I let out a deep, long sigh of relief the second Azaryon said that Electra was stronger than ever now.
That was all I needed to hear.
Everything else, the pain and the confusion about where I was and what was going to become of me, it all melted away the moment I knew she was okay. I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d been holding my breath, waiting for that answer.
Electra was safe.
She was alive, and not just alive, but stronger, and that immediately made everything I’d done worth it.
I was just about to ask Azaryon to quit dancing around the subject and give it to me straight—what was going to happen to me—when I realized something.
The man on the throne still hadn’t said a single word. I turned my head slowly to face him again, my eyes narrowing.
He was still sitting there, his body completely still, and his face carved into a calm and unreadable expression. He looked... distant and focused, but not in the way you look at someone when you’re simply watching. He was studying me, staring right through me.
The kind of stare that made the back of my neck prickle, and I shifted uncomfortably.
"Azaryon," I whispered out the side of my mouth, keeping my eyes locked on the silent figure. "Who is that guy?"
Azaryon didn’t answer right away.
"Why is he staring at me like that?" I whispered again, louder this time. "He hasn’t even blinked once. Is he your boss or something?"
Azaryon cleared his throat and crossed his arms, a flicker of something like amusement flashing across his face.
"Well... yeah," he said, shrugging. "You could say that. He’s my boss, and yours too, in a way."
That was vague and not helpful.
"But more than that," Azaryon added with a half-smile, "he’s also Electra’s grandfather."
I blinked, and then my jaw dropped. I turned to him, mouth hanging open. "You’re joking, right?"
Azaryon raised his eyebrows. "Do I look like I’m joking?"
I snapped my head back toward the man on the throne with wide eyes. "That—no. That guy? Him? There’s no way."
He looked no older than thirty. Maybe thirty-five if I squinted and tried really hard. Sure, his posture screamed ancient nobility, but his face, it was young. Too young.
"That cannot be Electra’s grandfather," I said, my voice a little higher now. "You people don’t age normally, do you?"
Azaryon just gave a lazy shrug and was about to answer when—
"Seraphina."
I froze as the voice hit me like a gust of winter wind.
It was low and calm, but it was more than enough to cut through the space between us with a force I hadn’t felt before. It was like the air itself responded to him, stilling around his words and leaning in to listen.
Goosebumps shot up my arms instantly, and my whole body stiffened as I turned slowly to face him again.
He was still staring, but now there was something else in his expression. Recognition, curiosity, and something I couldn’t name, something deep, and the kind of feeling that made you want to bow without even knowing why.
"Come forward," he said.
Just two words, but they made the ground under me feel heavier. I glanced quickly at Azaryon, silently begging him for an explanation or an excuse not to go.
He didn’t say a word. Just nodded toward the throne like, yeah, go ahead, good luck.
"Seriously?" I muttered under my breath and then looked forward again.
The man, Electra’s grandfather, apparently, was waiting.
I swallowed hard and stepped forward, one foot at a time, feeling like I was approaching something between a priest and a lightning storm. He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch, but I could feel the heat of his gaze tracking me like a spotlight.
I stopped a few feet away, unsure how close was too close, and then I lowered my head in silence.
I didn’t know if I was supposed to speak or stay quiet, kneel or curtsy, breathe too loud, or hold my breath. I’d never been face-to-face with someone who looked like a god, and if he really was Electra’s grandfather, then he wasn’t just anyone.
He had to be something far greater, a deity, maybe, or something close to it, and the last thing I wanted to do was offend a deity when I was basically in his house, possibly begging for my life without even realizing it.
So I bowed my head and said nothing. I waited. I tried not to fidget, and I didn’t dare look up, but my nerves were beginning to tangle in my stomach.
Finally, his voice broke through the quiet.
"Lift your head, Seraphina."
I looked up slowly, meeting his eyes. They weren’t harsh or cold like I’d feared, they were piercing, yes, but not scary. There was just heaviness, like they carried centuries of knowing things I couldn’t even begin to understand.
"I’ll get straight to the point," he said. His voice was calm, yet it filled the entire space with no effort. "You are not going to die."
The relief I felt was immediate and so intense that I nearly collapsed right then and there. My knees wobbled slightly, and I exhaled a shaky breath, but I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to interrupt.
"A dead vessel," he continued, "is utterly useless."
Well, that was a blunt way to put it.
"But," he added, and my heart thudded again at the way that one word dropped like a stone into the room, "you need to understand what being a vessel truly means now that the bond has formed."
I nodded, but I didn’t speak. I was too afraid of accidentally saying something stupid.
He rose slowly from his throne.
Even standing still, he radiated power. It wasn’t just his enormous wings or the glow from him, it was the way the air responded to him, like the world itself bent to his presence.
"You carry part of Electra’s essence," he said, walking toward me. "That is what the bond is. You are her anchor, her balance, and now, your lives are tied in ways you cannot undo."
I felt my breath catch in my throat. My brows furrowed. I was just about to ask him what he meant, how deep the bond truly ran, when he raised a hand and continued before I could say a word.
"If Electra dies," he said, his voice suddenly quieter, "you will die as well."
I stared at him.
"What...?" I whispered. "What do you mean?"
He didn’t repeat himself. He didn’t need to. His words already echoed in my mind, burning into my thoughts like a brand.
"If Electra’s life is taken," he said, "you will not survive."
The air was pulled from my lungs.
"There is a sigil," he continued. "A mark that will begin to form on your body once you return to the human realm. It will not appear all at once, but it will grow over time, shaped by the strength of your bond."
I stared at him, lips parted, heart beginning to pound.
He continued without pause. "That sigil is the symbol of the balance you now maintain. It’s what keeps Electra’s human and phoenix sides from pulling her apart. You are that balance, Seraphina. You are the thread keeping her whole."
I was still trying to process what that meant when his voice dropped just a little lower.
"But if Electra dies, the sigil loses its purpose, and when it does, it will consume you. From the inside out."
I froze.
Consume?
That word hit something deep in me. I could already strangely imagine it. I could picture flames unraveling inside me and the sigil burning its way through my body until there was nothing left but ash.
"So," I said, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be, "I’m like a... a living anchor?"
"Yes," he said. "One end tied to Electra, the other, grounded in the world you left behind."
My legs wobbled, and I took a small step back, trying to breathe.
"So, if she stubs her toe, I’ll feel it?" I asked, half-joking, half-serious, desperate to make light of something that felt way too heavy.
He didn’t smile.
"If her soul is in pain, yours will ache," he said plainly. "If she’s wounded, you will also carry the pain, and if her flame is extinguished, you will lose your life immediately."