The Last Strokes Of Divine

The throne hall still felt tense even after the emperor had left. Saya didn't wait for anyone to follow him. He walked steadily and quietly, his eyes darker than usual.

He hadn't meant to let his powers stir, not here, but something suddenly pressed at it, pushing the edges,something unfamiliar.

He had tried to suppress it and hold it down, but this smug nobles and official didn't just know when to lock up.

They just kept pressing. Prodding. Daring to speak Azeriah's name with empty mouths and unworthy tongues.

He warned them with silence.

They didn't listen.

Then the pressure snapped.

The power surged out of him like a silent scream. Cold. Suffocating.

The air in the thronehall turned heavy. A few clutched their throats. Others couldn't speak. No one dared meet his eyes.

Great. Now the political affairs meeting had ended with trembling officials.

Returning back to his chambers, he could still feel something clawing at his powers.

So instead of heading to his chambers, he followed the pull.

Through the upper corridors, past the oil-lit arches of the high wings, the feeling sharpened. Each step toward the Sanctum made his powers twitch more violently. Then, just before he reached the familiar duskwood doors, it hit him fully.

That presence, Azeriah.

No… he was sure that wasn't Azeriah. Something or someone had possessed her.

He paused at the Sanctum threshold. The tall carved doors stood closed, yet warm energy bled from the seams like ink leaking into water.

He was about to reach for the handles when a voice broke the quiet.

Your Majesty."

One of the Sanctum guards had approached from the side post, armor gleaming faintly.

Bowing deeply "Is there anything I can assist you with, sire?"

Saya turned to him slowly. His voice, when it came, was calm but final.

"No."

The guard hesitated, confusion flashing briefly across his face.

"I only ask, because—"

"You are dismissed" Saya said , his tone low, eyes sharp as blades.

The guard bowed again, backing away but just before he turned, a noise echoed from within the Sanctum.

A crash. Light, but unmistakable.

The guard straightened, instinctively reaching for the door.

Saya's arm moved faster, blocking his path.

He didn't need to say it.

His glare said enough, repeating himself would definitely cost the guard's head off his shoulders.

The guard froze, throat bobbing.

"As you command, Your Majesty."

Only when the guard's footsteps vanished down the corridor did Saya face the doors again.

He didn't hesitate this time. His hand met the iron serpent handle, and the Sanctum doors opened without a sound.

The moment he stepped in, his breath caught.

There she was.

Collapsed near the pedestal at the center, pale and trembling .

Azeriah!.

She was on the ground, her fingers clutching at her hair, her body trembling as though caught in the grip of something far too vast for her to hold.

And above her, the Divine Brush still shimmered.

Taking hurried step to her side.

"Azeriah " he breathed, kneeling. His hands hovered before settling on her shoulders.

She flinched under his touch, barely conscious.

Her eyes were wide but unfocused, lips parted like she was trying to speak through a storm only she could hear.

"Azeriah," he said, firmer now. "Look at me."

Nothing. She trembled harder. The Hollow Flame inside him surged more violently now he was so close to her, it started to sting and for the first time in a very very long time , he felt pain. Very subtle, but he could feel it.

He cupped the back of her head, pulling her against his chest.

Her breath was sharp and trembling.

Then, slowly, her body stilled in his arms.

Saya remained there a moment longer, cradling her against him, the residue of what she had just been through still clinging to her skin.

Then slowly, carefully, he gathered her in his arms.

And the Sanctum, once filled with whispers, fell into silence once more.

The Sanctum doors closed behind him with a whisper and not a soul in the corridor stirred.

Soleil's weight in his arms was featherlight, yet something about carrying her felt heavy. Her head rested against his shoulder, golden strands cascading over his arm.

He moved swiftly through the hidden back route, the one only ancient royal family members knew, veiled behind an illusion of stone columns and shadow. It bypassed the main halls and exited near the lower servants' corridor. He rarely used it.only few even remembered it existed.

Tonight, it was a blessing.

He emerged in the unlit passage near the back of the temple grounds , where the shadows stretched long and the marble was always cold. No patrols. No curious eyes.

Good.

With a thought, he summoned a thin curl of the Hollow Flame, enough to darken their presence. The air around him grew still. Sounds softened. They became a hush in motion , just another shadow moving along the wall.

Not even the Sanctum guards would remember seeing him twice tonight.

The only risk left was—

"Your Majesty?"

Saya turned sharply.

Martha, and he had missed her presence.

The older maid stood near the end of the hall, eyes widening as she recognized the girl in his arms.

"Don't speak," Saya said, voice dangerously quiet.

Martha nodded at once, lips pressed tight.

"Take her," he murmured. "To her quarters. No questions. No one sees. No one speaks."

Martha stepped forward, trembling but steady. "Yes, Your Majesty."

He passed Soleil onto her back carefully, making sure her head was supported. 

Martha turning sideways to look at her, something softening in her face. "Will she…?"

"She will be fine", he said.

Martha said nothing, only nodded again. 

He watched her disappear down the corridor with Azeriah held tight, moving with a speed he hadn't expected from someone of her age.

Only when they were gone did he finally let the Hollow Flame withdraw.

But he didn't leave.

Not yet.

Instead, he returned to the Sanctum alone.

He stepped back into the circle, eyes on the place where she'd collapsed. A faint outline remained, a shimmer in the floor from where divine magic had surged.

He raised one hand.

The Hollow Flame coiled through his fingers, curling around the traces of her presence.

With a breath, he burned it all away.

Not the relic magic. Not the room's natural wards. Just her fingerprints, her essence, her scent , the small accidental impressions left behind by a soul who didn't yet know how much of herself she left in every room.

Gone.

The Sanctum would remember she had entered but only to him.

He closed the doors and left without a sound.

Retreating to the coldness of his chambers.