They did not announce the hunt.
That alone told Aerys how far the world had shifted.
No horns. No banners. No ritual of authority. The inner guard moved through the citadel like shadows given purpose, their instincts muted by discipline rather than command.
Nyxara walked beside Aerys, her presence grounding him more than he cared to admit.
"He is moving faster than anticipated," she said. "Entire districts go silent before reports even reach us."
"He is efficient," Aerys replied. "That makes him dangerous."
"No," Nyxara said quietly. "That makes him convinced."
They descended into the lower corridors, places built before the Throne, before gods had learned to demand reverence. These tunnels had once been escape routes.
Now they felt like veins.
Aerys stopped suddenly.
Nyxara sensed it a breath later. "Here."
The air was wrong. Not thick. Not charged.
Empty.
Aerys closed his eyes.
Nothing answered him.
No instinctual echo. No fear. No resistance.
"Alphas lived here," Nyxara whispered. "I can still see the markings."
"They are gone," Aerys said. "Not dead."
Nyxara turned to him sharply. "You are certain?"
"Yes."
That unsettled her more than blood would have.
They moved deeper until they found the first survivor.
A woman sat against the stone wall, eyes open, breathing shallow. No marks. No wounds.
Aerys knelt in front of her. "Can you hear me?"
Her gaze shifted slowly to him.
"Yes," she said.
Nyxara exhaled. "Good. Then your instinct is intact."
The woman shook her head.
"No," she replied calmly. "It is quiet."
Aerys stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"I cannot feel anyone," she said. "Not you. Not her. Not myself."
Nyxara reached for her, then stopped.
"Who did this?" Nyxara asked.
The woman tilted her head, as if recalling a distant memory.
"He was kind," she said. "That is what frightened me most."
Aerys felt cold spread through his chest. "What did he say?"
"That instinct was a lie," the woman replied. "That we were never meant to hear the world screaming through our blood."
Nyxara whispered, "And you believed him?"
The woman looked up at her. "I believed the silence."
Aerys stood slowly.
"Where did he go?" he asked.
The woman smiled faintly. "Everywhere."
They left her with guards and healers who did not know what they were healing.
Outside, the city felt louder than ever.
Nyxara walked a step behind Aerys now. Not out of submission.
Out of thought.
"He is not erasing instinct violently," she said. "He is convincing them to release it."
"Yes," Aerys replied. "And once they do, they cannot reclaim it."
Nyxara's voice lowered. "That power rivals gods."
Aerys stopped walking.
"No," he said. "It surpasses them."
They reached the outer sanctum where the Seer waited.
"You found proof," the Seer said without greeting.
"We found consequence," Aerys replied. "Who is he?"
The Seer hesitated longer than usual.
"That is not an answer," Nyxara warned.
"He was never meant to exist," the Seer said finally. "An Alpha whose instinct collapsed inward instead of outward."
Aerys frowned. "That is not possible."
"It should not be," the Seer agreed. "He does not command instinct. He nullifies it."
Nyxara felt the ground tilt beneath her certainty.
"And the cost?" she asked.
The Seer's eyes flicked to her. "Identity."
Aerys turned sharply. "Explain."
"When instinct vanishes," the Seer said, "so does the hierarchy it creates. Bonds. Fear. Loyalty."
"And love," Nyxara whispered.
The Seer did not deny it.
Aerys felt something crack.
"This ends now," he said. "Where is he?"
The Seer met his gaze. "Close. Closer than you would like."
Nyxara's breath caught.
The Seer continued, "He is not hiding from you, Alpha. He is waiting."
"For what?" Aerys demanded.
"For you to choose," the Seer replied. "To stop him by becoming what you fear, or to let him unmake everything you tried to save."
Aerys clenched his fists. "That is not a choice."
Nyxara stepped in front of him. "Then do not make it alone."
The Seer watched them quietly. "You should know something else."
"What?" Aerys asked.
"The nullifier cannot affect you," the Seer said. "Your instinct is no longer singular."
Nyxara turned to him slowly. "But he can affect me."
The Seer inclined his head.
"Yes."
Silence fell.
Nyxara straightened. "Then I will be bait."
Aerys grabbed her wrist. "No."
"He will come for me," she said. "I was forged by instinct. I am everything he believes must be erased."
Aerys's voice shook. "I will not let him take you apart to prove a philosophy."
Nyxara met his gaze, unwavering. "Then end him."
The Seer stepped back. "He approaches."
The air shifted.
Footsteps echoed from the far archway, unhurried, unthreatening.
A man emerged from the shadows.
Ordinary.
That was the most terrifying thing about him.
He looked at Aerys first, then Nyxara, and smiled gently.
"You finally came," he said.
Aerys drew his blade.
"Stay away from her."
The man raised his hands slightly. "I have no interest in harming her."
Nyxara felt it then.
The absence.
Her instincts went silent.
She staggered.
Aerys caught her instantly. "Nyxara."
The man's voice was calm. "I told you. I am not cruel."
Aerys's rage flared. The world trembled.
"What do you want?" Aerys growled.
The man met his eyes.
"To see," he said softly,
"what remains of an Alpha when instinct can no longer speak."
Nyxara looked up at Aerys, fear flickering through the quiet inside her.
"Aerys," she whispered,
"do not let him take this from you too."
The man smiled.
"Oh," he said.
"I already have."
The air collapsed inward.
And for the first time since the gods fell, Aerys felt truly alone.
For a heartbeat, the world did not return.
Aerys stood frozen, Nyxara's weight pressed against his chest, her breath shallow and uneven. He reached inward on instinct alone and found nothing answering back. No echo. No resistance.
Silence.
Not the calm kind.
The hollow kind.
"Aerys," Nyxara whispered again, her voice thin, unfamiliar. "I cannot feel you."
His throat tightened. He forced himself to breathe, to focus on the physical. Her warmth. The tremor in her fingers. The way fear still existed even when instinct did not.
"I am here," he said, gripping her shoulders harder than necessary. "You are not alone."
The man watched them quietly, as if observing an experiment rather than an unraveling.
"You see now," he said. "Instinct was never strength. It was noise."
Aerys lifted his head slowly. The rage inside him did not flare the way it once would have. It settled instead, dense and deliberate.
"You did this to prove a point," Aerys said.
"Yes," the man replied. "And to offer a future."
Nyxara shook her head weakly. "This is not freedom."
The man's smile softened. "It is peace."
Aerys stood, placing himself fully between them.
"You took something from her," he said. "From all of them."
"I took nothing," the man answered. "I showed them how to let go."
Aerys felt the truth in that, and it terrified him more than a lie ever could.
"You will stop," Aerys said quietly.
The man met his gaze without fear. "You cannot stop what you do not control."
Aerys tightened his grip on his blade.
"Then," he said, voice steady despite the void inside him,
"I will learn."
The man's eyes flickered with something like curiosity.
"Good," he said. "That is what I was hoping for."
The silence pressed closer.
And somewhere deep within Aerys, something began to move.
Not instinct.
Not divinity.
Choice.