Chapter 9
1997 Words
“I miss my parents Sabrina” i know you do darling
you should meet clover she’s the younger sister of dominion
When Myths Begin to Crack
The chamber overlooked a quiet valley, untouched by the scars of war. That alone felt unreal to Azure. Places like this were rare—too peaceful, too still, as if the world were holding its breath.
She stood near the open balcony doors when Clover of Dominion entered.
They regarded one another in silence.
“You look like them,” Clover said at last. “Both of them.”
Azure did not turn. “People say that when they want to soften what they’re about to tell me.”
Clover gave a faint, humorless smile. “Then you already know this won’t be easy.”
Azure faced her. “You asked for this meeting. Speak.”
Clover folded her hands, posture composed but careful. “You believe the stories about the war. About my brother. About what happened in the kingdom where your parents fell.”
Azure’s jaw tightened. “I believe what history remembers.”
“History remembers what survives,” Clover replied. “Not always what is true.”
Azure’s eyes hardened. “Be careful. You’re speaking about my parents.”
“I know,” Clover said gently. “That’s why I’m here.”
A long pause stretched between them.
“You think Dominion killed them,” Azure said quietly. “You think I came here to accuse him.”
“I think you came here carrying anger that doesn’t belong where it’s been placed,” Clover answered.
Azure laughed once, sharp and bitter. “So this is it? The demon lord’s sister rewriting the past?”
“No,” Clover said. “This is me correcting a myth before it consumes what little peace remains.”
Azure crossed her arms. “Then start explaining.”
Clover took a slow breath.
“My brother kills,” she said plainly. “He has never denied that. He fights those who choose war. Those who raise weapons, who command armies, who threaten realms.”
Azure interrupted, voice low. “And the innocents?”
“He does not kill them,” Clover said firmly. “Not then. Not ever.”
Azure stepped back as if struck. “That’s a lie.”
“No,” Clover replied. “That’s the lie you were taught.”
Silence crashed down between them.
“The battle in the kingdom,” Azure said, voice trembling despite herself. “The one that destroyed everything. That killed my parents. You expect me to believe your brother wasn’t responsible?”
“I expect you to believe the truth,” Clover said. “The battle was not controlled by Dominion.”
Azure stared. “That’s impossible.”
“So we were told,” Clover said. “Until the command seals behaved in ways they shouldn’t have.”
Azure’s brows furrowed. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying someone else gave the orders,” Clover replied. “Someone with access. Someone trusted.”
“A traitor,” Azure whispered.
“Yes.”
The word hung heavy in the air.
Azure shook her head slowly. “You don’t know who.”
“No,” Clover admitted. “Not yet.”
“So you come to me with uncertainty,” Azure snapped, anger flaring, “and expect me to dismantle everything I know?”
“I come to you because you deserve the truth,” Clover said. “Even if it hurts.”
Azure turned away, gripping the stone railing.
“My parents died believing they were fighting the source of destruction,” she said. “They gave everything.”
“And they were right to fight,” Clover said softly. “But they were not fighting my brother’s will.”
Azure spun back. “Then why didn’t he stop it?”
Clover’s eyes darkened. “Because by the time he reached the battlefield, the damage was done—and the traitor had vanished.”
Azure’s voice cracked. “Convenient.”
Clover flinched, but did not retreat. “I would say the same if I were you.”
They stood in silence again.
“If this is true,” Azure said slowly, “then the world has been hunting the wrong enemy.”
“Yes,” Clover said. “And the real one is still free.”
Azure exhaled shakily. “You ask me to believe that the monster of every story… isn’t one.”
“I ask you to believe he is not the monster you were taught,” Clover replied. “He is something far more dangerous—someone who knows restraint.”
Azure looked up sharply. “You think that makes him better?”
“No,” Clover said. “I think it makes him responsible.”
Azure studied Clover’s face, searching for deceit. She found none—only exhaustion.
“Why tell me this now?” Azure asked. “Why not before?”
“Because you’re no longer just a child of the fallen,” Clover said. “You’re a voice people listen to.”
Azure swallowed. “And you want me to defend him.”
“I want you to question the myth,” Clover corrected. “If you don’t, the traitor will strike again—wearing Dominion’s name like a mask.”
Azure closed her eyes.
“All my life,” she said quietly, “I carried one truth: that darkness took everything from me.”
“And now,” Clover said, “you’re being asked to carry something heavier.”
Azure opened her eyes. “Uncertainty.”
“Yes.”
They stood together at the balcony, watching the valley below.
“If I accept this,” Azure said, “I betray the anger that kept me standing.”
Clover’s voice softened. “And if you don’t, you betray the future your parents died for.”
Azure turned to her fully now.
“Tell me one thing,” she said. “If I search for this traitor… will your brother allow it?”
Clover met her gaze without hesitation. “He already has.”
Azure blinked. “What?”
“He knows the truth will not survive if guarded only by darkness,” Clover said. “It needs light too—even if that light questions him.”
A long breath left Azure’s chest.
“Then we are standing on the same edge,” she said.
Clover inclined her head. “It would seem so.”
Azure looked out over the valley once more. “The myth is cracking.”
“And what will you do,” Clover asked, “when it finally breaks?”
Azure’s voice was steady.
“I’ll make sure the real enemy has nowhere left to hide.”
Clover allowed herself a small, genuine smile.
“Then,” she said, “this conversation was worth every risk.”
The Hall of Dominion was vast, carved from obsidian that reflected no light unless it wished to. The air itself felt ancient, heavy with memory. Every step Azure took echoed louder than her heartbeat.
At the far end of the hall, upon a raised platform, sat Dominion.
He did not rise when she approached.
That alone angered her.
“So,” Azure said, her voice cutting through the silence, “this is where the monster sits.”
Dominion’s gaze lifted slowly.
His eyes were not aflame. They were calm. Too calm.
“You came,” he said. “That means Clover told you.”
Azure stopped several paces away from the throne. “She told me you didn’t control the battle. That a traitor gave the orders. That the destruction blamed on you wasn’t your doing.”
Dominion studied her as if weighing the truth of her presence rather than her words.
“And what do you believe?” he asked.
Azure laughed—sharp and hollow. “You don’t get to turn this into a lesson.”
“I don’t get to do many things,” Dominion replied evenly. “But I will not answer an accusation you haven’t decided to make.”
Azure clenched her fists. “My parents died in that war.”
“I know.”
“You always say that,” she snapped. “As if knowing makes it lighter.”
Dominion’s jaw tightened—just barely.
“They stood against what they believed was destruction itself,” Azure continued. “They fought you.”
“Yes,” Dominion said. “They did.”
“And now I’m supposed to believe they were wrong?”
Dominion stood.
The sound of it—stone shifting beneath ancient power—sent a chill through the hall.
“They were not wrong,” he said. “They were incomplete.”
Azure’s eyes burned. “Explain.”
“They fought the face of the war,” Dominion said, stepping down from the throne. “Not its source.”
He stopped a few steps away from her—close enough that she could feel the weight of him, but far enough to show restraint.
“The orders that shattered your kingdom,” he continued, “were not mine.”
Azure searched his face for deceit. “Then why didn’t you stop it?”
Dominion’s silence stretched.
When he spoke again, his voice was lower. “Because authority was stolen from me.”
Azure froze. “Stolen?”
“A binding sigil was altered,” he said. “Only someone within my command could have done it. Someone who knew my laws well enough to twist them.”
Azure’s breath caught. “And you let the world blame you.”
“Yes.”
Her voice shook. “Why?”
“Because revealing the truth then would have ignited a greater war,” Dominion replied. “Your parents’ allies would not have believed it. My enemies would have used it. Millions more would have died.”
Azure took a step back. “So you chose silence.”
“I chose containment,” he corrected. “And I accepted the hatred that followed.”
Azure’s anger surged. “You let me grow up believing you murdered them.”
Dominion met her gaze fully now. “And you grew strong because of it.”
“That doesn’t make it right!” she shouted.
“No,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t.”
Silence fell again—thick, suffocating.
“If this traitor exists,” Azure said slowly, “they’re still out there.”
“Yes.”
“And you haven’t found them.”
“No.”
Azure’s voice hardened. “Then your restraint failed.”
Dominion did not argue.
She stared at him, realization dawning. “That’s why you let Clover speak to me.”
“Yes.”
“You want me to help.”
“I want you to see,” Dominion said. “Because you are not bound by my shadow. The traitor hides where my name alone opens doors.”
Azure folded her arms, shaking slightly. “You’re asking the daughter of your enemies to trust you.”
Dominion inclined his head. “I am asking the daughter of truth to decide for herself.”
Azure’s eyes burned with unshed tears. “Do you regret it?”
“Regret,” Dominion said, “is a luxury for those whose choices do not shape worlds.”
She stepped closer now. “Do you regret them dying?”
For the first time, Dominion’s composure cracked.
“Yes.”
The word was heavy. Final.
“They should not have fallen to a lie,” he said. “And neither should you have lived under one.”
Azure exhaled, her anger unraveling into something sharper—clarity.
“If I uncover the traitor,” she said, “I won’t protect you.”
“I don’t need protection,” Dominion replied.
“I won’t excuse what you’ve done,” she continued.
“I don’t ask you to.”
- Writer
