Chapter 8 Where Protection Breaks
960 Words
The forest did not scream when Kael’s claiming sealed.
It mourned.
A low resonant sound moved through the roots, not loud enough to hear, but heavy enough to bend the air. Amihan felt it settle into her bones, a new weight, unfamiliar and intimate. Her name did not return to her. Not fully. It hovered, distant, like something spoken from another room.
Kael was already receding.
His form blurred at the edges, bone softening back into earth, roots winding lovingly around him as if eager to reclaim what they had never wanted to release.
“Father,” Amihan whispered.
He did not answer.
Tala stood rigid, arms wrapped around herself, gaze fixed on the place where Kael had been. When she finally turned, her face was composed in the way grief teaches quickly.
“It’s done,” she said.
Silawán said nothing.
He stood apart from them now, shoulders squared, eyes darkened not with fear but calculation. The kingdom around him had grown restless. Paths shifted too frequently. Light dimmed and brightened without rhythm.
“This shouldn’t have happened,” he said finally.
Maharlika laughed softly. “And yet.”
He ignored her.
“I promised you protection,” Silawán said to Amihan.
Her throat tightened. “You promised a lot of things.”
He flinched.
That hurt him more than her anger would have.
The forest shifted again.
This time, it was not subtle.
The air cooled sharply. The scent of rot threaded through the greenery, sweet and cloying. Kisê stiffened beside Amihan, fingers brushing the hilt of her blade.
“She’s here,” Kisê whispered.
Amihan felt it before she saw it. A pressure, polite and suffocating, like hands placed carefully around her throat.
Lady Liraya emerged from between two trees that had not been there a moment before.
She wore her courtliness like a second skin now. Her pale form shimmered faintly, eyes deep and reflective as still water. Her smile was slow, indulgent.
“King Silawán,” she said warmly. “You’ve been busy.”
Silawán stepped forward at once, authority snapping into place. “You are not welcome here.”
Liraya inclined her head slightly. “You invited me when you failed.”
The words landed cleanly.
Silawán’s jaw tightened. “Leave.”
“Or what?” she asked lightly. “You’ll bind me? You can barely hold your own court together.”
Maharlika shifted, interest sharpening. Tala moved closer to Amihan without a word.
Kisê stepped forward.
“You don’t get to talk like that,” she said, voice tight but steady. “Not here.”
Liraya’s gaze slid to her surprised. “And who are you, little blade?”
Kisê lifted her chin. “Someone who bleeds.”
The Dalaketnon smiled. “So do I. Sometimes.”
The forest stirred, uneasy.
“Enough,” Silawán snapped. “She is claimed.”
“Yes,” Liraya agreed. “Twice. Which makes her valuable.”
The pressure around Amihan intensified. She gasped softly, knees weakening.
Silawán moved instantly, placing himself between Amihan and Liraya, one hand outstretched.
“You will not touch her.”
Liraya’s expression softened, almost pitying. “I already have.”
The ground beneath Silawán’s feet shifted.
He frowned.
Too late.
The path buckled violently., stone and earth folding inward. Sigils flared and then shattered, shock breaking his composure for the first time.
Maharlika swore under her breath. “You overreached.”
Silawán braced himself, summoning the kingdom to him, but the response was sluggish, fractured. The forest hesitated.
Liraya stepped past him.
Just past.
Close enough that her cold brushed Amihan’s skin like breath.
“No,” Silawán growled, lunging.
The forest intervened.
Roots burst from the ground, not to stop Liraya, but to restrain Silawán. They coiled around his ankles and wrists, binding him with terrifying gentleness.
Amihan stared.
“Silawán,” she whispered.
He strained against the roots, fury and disbelief tearing through his control. “This is my realm!”
Liraya turned back to look at him. “It was.”
She faced Amihan again, lifting one elegant hand.
“Come with me,” she said softly. “Not as prey. As guest.”
“I won’t,” Amihan said, though her voice trembled.
Liraya smiled. “You already are.”
Kisê moved without thinking.
She stepped between them, blade flashing, pressing it to Liraya’s pale throat.
“Touch her,” Kisê said fiercely, “and I swear I’ll—“
Liraya laughed.
The sound was bright and delighted.
“Oh, little one,” she said, and gently closed her fingers around Kisê’s wrist.
The blade clattered to the ground.
With a casual twist, Liraya flung Kisê aside. She hit the earth hard, gasping.
“Kisê!” Amihan cried, reaching for her.
Tala lunged forward, but Maharlika caught her arm sharply.
“Not yet,” Maharlika hissed. “You’ll only make it worse.”
Liraya leaned close to Amihan, her voice lowering into something almost kind.
“Kings fail,” she murmured. “Fathers fade. But we endure.”
Silawán roared, the sound raw and animal. “Get away from her!”
The forest did not listen.
Liraya placed two fingers beneath Amihan’s chin and lifted her gaze.
“Tell me,” she whispered, “do you know where you name goes when you’re not using it?”
Amihan shook her head, tears spilling freely now.
Liraya smiled.
“I do.”
The ground opened.
Not splitting.
Opening.
A dark, elegant doorway formed at Amihan’s feet, air rushing upward like breath drawn in by something enormous.
Liraya stepped back, extending her hand.
“Come,” she said.
The forest leaned in.
Silawán strained helplessly against the roots.
Kisê screamed Amihan’s name
And Amihan felt herself slipping.
- Writer
