The forest did not attack them.
That was the first warning.
As dawn crept through the canopy, thin and pale, Aerys realized how wrong the silence felt. Birds did not return. Wind barely stirred the leaves. Even insects seemed to hold their breath, as if the land itself was waiting for instruction.
Nyxara noticed it too.
"This place is listening," she murmured. "Not to us. To what follows you."
Aerys flexed his fingers, grounding himself. "Then let it listen."
Seris frowned. "That confidence will get us killed."
Aerys looked back at him. "No. Hesitation will."
They broke camp without ceremony. No one spoke as they moved, each step echoing with the unspoken truth that whatever force had been observing them was no longer content to remain distant.
By midmorning, the forest thinned into broken highlands. The land sloped upward, scarred with ancient paths carved long before councils and thrones existed. Ruins dotted the ridgeline, remnants of a civilization erased so thoroughly that even its name had been stripped from record.
Nyxara slowed.
"We should not be here," she said quietly.
Aerys followed her gaze. "This place matters to you."
"Yes," she replied. "And that is precisely the problem."
Seris exhaled sharply. "You both say things like that far too often."
Nyxara did not smile. "This is where balance was first imposed."
Aerys stopped walking.
"Imposed?" he repeated.
She nodded. "Before the gods ruled openly, before instinct was refined into hierarchy, there were places like this. Where power was not inherited. Where authority shifted."
"And that failed," Seris said.
"No," Nyxara replied. "It was corrected."
Aerys felt the word settle like a stone in his chest.
Corrected by whom?
They climbed in silence until the air grew thin and cold. At the summit, the land opened into a vast circular plateau. Stone pillars rose from the ground in uneven rings, their surfaces carved with symbols worn nearly smooth by time.
Aerys stepped forward and felt it immediately.
The pull.
Not forceful. Not violent.
Recognizing.
"This place knows you," Nyxara said, voice tight.
Aerys shook his head. "No. It knows refusal."
The ground responded with a faint tremor.
Seris drew his blade. "That was not reassuring."
They did not enter the circle at first.
Nyxara knelt near one of the fallen pillars, fingers brushing the carvings with reverent caution. Her expression was unreadable, but her breathing had changed.
"You were here before," Aerys said.
"Yes," she admitted. "Not as myself."
He waited.
"This is where my function was finalized," she continued. "Where neutrality was bound into me. Where choice was stripped."
Aerys's jaw tightened. "And they still use it."
"Yes."
"For what?"
"To ensure the throne is never truly empty."
The words echoed louder than any sound.
Seris glanced between them. "Meaning?"
Nyxara rose slowly. "Meaning when one refuses, another is shaped."
Aerys felt the implication immediately.
"They are not trying to force me anymore," he said quietly. "They are preparing a replacement."
Nyxara met his eyes. "Yes."
The air shifted.
A pressure rolled across the plateau, deliberate and precise. Not divine. Not ancient in the way the gods were ancient.
Institutional.
Figures emerged from between the pillars, cloaked in pale armor etched with familiar sigils.
Council Enforcers.
Seris swore. "We were followed."
"No," Nyxara said. "We were anticipated."
The lead figure stepped forward, helm removed to reveal a calm, expressionless face.
"Aerys Vael," he said evenly. "You are required to return."
Aerys did not move. "I already refused."
The enforcer inclined his head. "This is not a request."
Nyxara stepped to Aerys's side. "Then you are too late."
The enforcer's gaze flicked to her. "You are out of alignment."
"Correct," Nyxara replied. "And you should leave."
The man smiled faintly. "We cannot."
The ground pulsed.
From the center of the circle, light began to rise. Not blinding, but heavy, structured, as if being assembled piece by piece.
Aerys felt it immediately.
Another presence.
Incomplete.
"Who is that?" Seris demanded.
Nyxara's voice dropped to a whisper. "An Alpha being shaped without consent."
Aerys stepped forward instinctively. "Stop this."
The enforcer's eyes hardened. "You had your chance to ascend willingly."
"I will not let you do this," Aerys said.
"You already have," the man replied calmly. "By refusing."
The light intensified.
A figure took shape within it. Tall. Broad shouldered. Head bowed as if under immense weight.
Aerys felt the fear radiating from it.
Uncontrolled.
Unchosen.
"This is wrong," he said.
"Yes," Nyxara replied. "That has never stopped them before."
The figure screamed.
The sound tore through the plateau, raw and fractured, echoing with pain and confusion. The pillars vibrated in response.
Aerys's vision blurred.
He felt it then, sharp and unmistakable.
Resonance.
The incomplete Alpha lifted his head.
Their eyes met.
And something snapped into place.
The light exploded outward.
Nyxara shouted Aerys's name as the shockwave threw them apart. Stone shattered. Enforcers were flung backward like debris.
Aerys hit the ground hard, breath knocked from his lungs.
Inside his chest, something burned.
Not instinct.
Recognition.
The incomplete Alpha staggered free of the light, gasping, clutching his head. His gaze locked onto Aerys again, wild and desperate.
"Make it stop," he begged hoarsely.
Aerys pushed himself up, heart hammering.
Nyxara scrambled to his side. "Do not connect," she warned urgently. "If you do, the system will lock onto both of you."
Aerys hesitated.
The Alpha screamed again, collapsing to his knees.
"I did not choose this," the man sobbed. "They said I had no choice."
Aerys felt the weight of the empty throne press down on him.
This was the cost of refusal.
Not punishment.
Replacement.
He took a step forward.
Nyxara grabbed his arm. "Aerys, listen to me."
He looked at her.
"If I walk away," he said quietly, "this never ends."
Her eyes shone with fear. "And if you intervene, you become the axis."
He turned back to the kneeling Alpha.
The man looked up at him, hope and terror tangled in his expression.
"What do I do?" the Alpha whispered.
Aerys felt the presence watching again.
Patient.
Calculating.
The council enforcers began to rise, weapons drawn.
Nyxara's voice trembled. "Whatever you choose now will define more than you."
Aerys stepped forward anyway.
He knelt before the incomplete Alpha.
"You breathe," Aerys said softly. "You survive. That is enough."
The Alpha stared at him. "Will they stop?"
Aerys met his gaze.
"No," he said honestly. "But neither will we."
The ground trembled violently.
Nyxara released his arm.
Her voice broke as she whispered, "Then there is no turning back."
Aerys reached for the Alpha's hand.
And the world responded.
The moment Aerys touched the other Alpha, the world reacted violently.
Not with fire. Not with light.
With alignment.
The air folded inward, compressing around them until breathing felt like drawing air through stone. The pillars groaned, ancient carvings igniting one by one as if recognizing a function they had been waiting centuries to perform.
Nyxara cried out. "Aerys, pull away now."
He could not.
The connection locked instantly, instinct to instinct, fear to refusal. The incomplete Alpha convulsed, gasping as something deep within him stabilized, not healed, but anchored.
Aerys felt it all.
The terror of being chosen without consent.The agony of instinct rewriting thought.The suffocating certainty that obedience was the only way to survive.
His knees hit the ground.
Nyxara rushed forward, pressing her palm to his back. "Breathe," she ordered. "Do not let the system define the bond."
Aerys clenched his jaw, forcing air into his lungs. "It is already trying."
"Yes," she said. "Because you just created an anomaly it cannot categorize."
The council enforcers advanced cautiously, weapons raised but uncertain. Their formation was tight, controlled, but hesitation bled through the discipline.
"You are destabilizing the site," the lead enforcer called out. "Release him."
Aerys lifted his head slowly.
"No," he said.
The ground responded with a violent tremor.
The incomplete Alpha screamed again, but this time the sound shifted. Less panic. More confusion.
"I can hear you," the man whispered, staring at Aerys in horror. "Inside my head."
Aerys swallowed. "So can I."
Nyxara's breath caught. "This is resonance beyond projection," she said. "They were not meant to synchronize."
Seris dragged himself to his feet, blood trickling from his temple. "Then end it."
Aerys shook his head. "If I sever this, they will rebuild him. Again. And again."
The incomplete Alpha gripped Aerys's arm desperately. "Please. Do not let them take me back."
Nyxara closed her eyes briefly.
When she opened them, something in her expression had hardened.
"Then we collapse the site," she said.
Seris stared at her. "That would erase this place from the system."
"Yes," Nyxara replied. "And me with it."
Aerys turned sharply. "No."
She met his gaze. "I was finalized here. My function is anchored to this ground."
"You said your function changed," he argued.
"It did," she agreed softly. "But origins still matter."
The enforcers began to spread out, forming a containment ring.
"You have no authority here," the lead enforcer warned. "This process will complete."
Nyxara stepped forward.
"I revoke it," she said calmly.
The air froze.
Every sigil on the pillars flared at once.
"You cannot revoke balance," the enforcer snapped.
Nyxara's voice did not waver. "Balance was imposed. I was the instrument. And I withdraw."
The plateau screamed.
Stone cracked violently, pillars collapsing inward as the circle destabilized. The light at its center faltered, flickering erratically.
Aerys felt the connection strain.
Nyxara dropped to one knee, blood at the corner of her mouth.
Aerys reached for her. "Stop. You will tear yourself apart."
She looked up at him, eyes burning with resolve. "If I do not, they will never stop making him."
The incomplete Alpha sobbed. "I do not want to be a throne."
Aerys tightened his grip on both of them.
"Then you will not be," he said.
He stood.
The pressure surged, trying to force instinct into alignment.
Aerys resisted.
Not by pushing back.
By refusing to anchor.
The connection loosened, not breaking, but shifting. The resonance spread outward, disrupting the site's control over the incomplete Alpha.
The enforcers shouted orders.
Too late.
The ground collapsed inward, swallowing light, sigils, and centuries of imposed design.
Nyxara screamed Aerys's name as the plateau began to fall.
Aerys wrapped an arm around her and the other Alpha, pulling them close as the earth gave way beneath their feet.
They fell.
Darkness rushed up to meet them.
The sound of stone tearing apart echoed like a dying breath.
As they plunged, Nyxara clutched Aerys's collar, panic finally breaking through her control.
"If we survive this," she whispered urgently, "nothing will ever be neutral again."
Aerys held her tightly.
"Then let it choose," he said. "Just like we did."
The darkness swallowed them whole.
And far beyond the collapsing plateau, something ancient and patient shifted its attention.
Interested.
Watching.
Waiting to see what would rise from the ruins of an empty throne.