The King's Guard

Chapter 37

Darius’s chambers were dim, the lamps half-filled, their glow stretching across the walls in narrow bands. Kael hesitated at the doorway, hand resting against the frame. The halls outside were still, but he couldn’t shake the weight of what he carried with him.

Darius sat at the table, cloak folded over the chair. His sword leaned against the wall, out of easy reach. He didn’t look up when Kael entered.

“You came,” he said.

“You told me to.”

“I told you what would happen if you didn’t.” Darius gestured to the other chair. “Sit.”

Kael lowered himself carefully, eyes scanning the room. Parchments covered the table’s surface: maps, reports, diagrams of formations. But tucked in the corner, half-shadowed, was something else: a shard of stone, dark and pulsing faintly.

Kael nodded toward it. “That… Rift residue?”

Darius shifted it out of sight with a single motion. “A reminder.”

Kael leaned forward. “Of what?”

“Of what happens when control slips.”

Kael frowned. “Control always slips. I felt it yesterday. It nearly tore the hall apart.”

Darius’s voice hardened. “Not nearly. It did. The only reason you walked away is because I was there to stop it from spreading further.”

Kael’s hands curled into fists against his knees. “And if you hadn’t been?”

“Then the walls would still be frozen, and the bird would still be hanging in the rafters,” Darius said flatly. “And you would be a hollow shell, leaking Rift until you burned out.”

Silence stretched. Kael finally said, “You said you’d tell me. So tell me.”

Darius’s eyes met his. “You think the Rift is about command. It isn’t. It’s about consequence. That’s what no one tells you.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “Consequence? I’ve seen what happens when I lose grip. Walls bend. Air freezes. Birds fall out of the sky. I already know.”

“You don’t,” Darius said. His tone sharpened, slicing clean. “You’ve seen sparks. That’s all. When the Rift truly tears loose, it doesn’t stop at birds and torches. It takes whatever it wants. Whoever it wants.”

Kael’s voice lowered, almost a whisper. “You’ve seen it.”

“I’ve lived it.”

Kael swallowed. “How bad?”

Darius drew a breath, as if bracing himself. “I killed twelve men with it.”

Kael’s eyes widened. “…Twelve?”

“An entire patrol,” Darius said, his tone steady but heavy with weight. “One instant they were alive…breathing, talking, laughing. The next, gone. Not wounded. Not scattered. Gone. Their bodies torn through as if time itself chewed them. Because I thought I had control.”

Kael shook his head slowly. “And you’re telling me this… to scare me?”

“No,” Darius said. “I’m telling you this because the Rift doesn’t negotiate. Because you need to understand that every time you open yourself to it, you’re gambling lives you don’t even realise are at stake.”

Kael’s hands pressed against the table. “So what then? Just lock it away? Pretend it isn’t there?”

“Pretending is the surest way to die,” Darius said. “You want control? Learn the first truth: there isn’t any. There’s only choice. You choose when to risk it. You choose when to unleash it. And you live with what happens after.”

Kael’s fists tightened. “And if I don’t choose? If I try to hold it back?”

“Then it chooses for you,” Darius said without hesitation.

Kael leaned forward. “Why tell me now? Why not weeks ago, the first time you saw me stumble?”

“Because Velreth’s watching. The Archon’s watching. Jared’s House is watching.” Darius’s voice lowered. “They’re waiting for you to stumble—and when you do, they’ll claim you. They’ll use what you are for their own ends.”

Kael’s voice was low. “So what do I do?”

Darius studied him. “You learn the price. And you decide if you’re willing to pay it.”

Kael exhaled, bitter. “Sounds like a choice between losing myself or losing everyone else.”

“That’s the Rift,” Darius said simply.

Kael pressed his palms flat against the wood. “What happened after… with the patrol?”

Darius’s gaze dropped. “They called it an accident. Officially. But unofficially? It marked me. Velreth never let it go. And every time I stand in a room of officers, I see it in their eyes: I am the man who lost control.”

“Yet you’re still here.”

“Because the Queen kept me close. Because she understood something the others didn’t.”

Kael frowned. “Which is?”

“That the Rift isn’t a weapon to be mastered. It’s a wound. And wounds don’t heal. They scar. You carry them, or they carry you.”

Kael leaned back, silent. The words cut deeper than he wanted to admit.

Finally, he said, “So when it happens again, when it surges… what then?”

Darius’s face hardened. “Then you count the cost before it begins. And you ask yourself one question: who survives if you open it?”

Kael thought of the frozen bird. The torchlight bending. The blood at his mouth. He thought of Reyna watching him, waiting for answers he didn’t have.

His voice cracked slightly. “And if no one survives?”

Darius didn’t hesitate. “Then you don’t open it.”

Kael laughed under his breath, harsh and without humour. “So I’m supposed to be a blade I can’t swing.”

“You’re supposed to be more than a blade,” Darius said.

The room fell quiet. The faint pulse of the shard on the table seemed louder now, steady as a heartbeat.

Kael finally asked, “Do you regret it?”

Darius looked at him long, then said, “Every day.”

Kael swallowed, throat tight. “Then why keep going?”

“Because regret doesn’t erase consequence. But maybe consequence can warn someone else.”

Kael stared at him. “Me.”

“You,” Darius confirmed.

Kael leaned forward again. “Then teach me. Not how to hide it. Not how to fear it. Teach me how to live with it.”

Darius studied him for a long moment. Then he reached for the shard of Rift-stone, pushed it across the table toward Kael. The glow spilled across his hands.

“Start here,” he said. “And remember this thing doesn’t belong to you. You belong to it. Every moment you resist that truth, it will bite harder.”

Kael stared at the shard. It hummed faintly, pulling at the air between them. He reached out, fingers brushing its edge.

The hum sharpened instantly. The lamps flickered. Shadows bent inward. Kael yanked his hand back, breath catching.

Darius didn’t move. “That’s the price.”

Kael clenched his jaw. “Feels like a threat.”

“It is,” Darius said. “One that never leaves.”

The glow dimmed as Kael withdrew his hand. He pushed the shard back toward Darius.

“I’m not ready.”

“Good,” Darius said. “Neither was I. And that’s the only reason you might outlast me.”

Kael stood, the weight of the words heavy in his chest. He moved toward the door, hand brushing the frame.

“Darius.”

“What.”

“You said they’re watching. That they want me to break. What happens when they push too far?”

Darius looked at him, face grim. “Then the whole Academy pays the price.”

Kael’s breath caught. The words burned sharper than he expected. He turned, opened the door, and stepped into the silent hall.

Behind him, Darius sat alone, staring at the shard. His hand hovered above it but never touched.

Kael walked the corridor, the lamps flickering overhead, the Rift humming faintly inside his chest.

He whispered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else:

“I won’t pay it for them.”