Chapter 114: 114. The Return

Five days remained and Owen found Celeste standing on the palace balcony overlooking Drak’thar. She’d been there for hours. Not moving. Just watching the violet sky.

“You’re leaving…” Owen said.

“Yes,” she said without any pause. “Not because Dominus told me to. Staying just means more attacks. More dragons will get hurt. I won’t be the reason heaven starts a war on Drak’thar.”

“Where will you go?”

“Home.” She said it flat. “Back to my city. Face the church. Take whatever punishment they give me.”

Owen’s chest tightened. “That’s suicide.”

“It’s just… resolution.” She turned to him. “The mark is still building energy. Even here, away from sacred ground, it’s almost ready. In a few hours it will go off no matter where I am. Better it happens where I pick than somewhere random in the wild.”

“You’re choosing execution.”

“I’m choosing to control the one thing I still can…how I die.” Her voice remained steady. “If I return voluntarily, confess to heresy, accept judgment publicly, maybe the church will be satisfied. Maybe they won’t escalate further against dragons.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“No. But it’s the story I’m telling myself to make this bearable.”

Vorthraxx appeared in the doorway. He had been listening. “I won’t let you do this.”

“You don’t get a vote.” Celeste moved past him into the palace. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning. With or without your approval.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“You absolutely are not. Your presence would make everything worse.” She stopped and looked back. “Let me do this my way. Please.”

Vorthraxx’s hands clenched. “There has to be another option.”

“There isn’t. We looked. For weeks we researched every possibility and found nothing.” Her voice cracked slightly. “I’m tired, Vorthraxx. Tired of running. Tired of being heaven’s puppet. If I’m going to die and I am, then I choose to die on my feet facing it directly.”

She walked away.

Vorthraxx turned to Owen. “Talk her out of this.”

“I can’t. She’s right.” Owen leaned against the doorframe. “The mark will trigger in sixty hours. She can either wait for it to happen randomly or face it deliberately. At least this way she has agency.”

“Agency to commit suicide!?”

“Agency to choose her ending.” Owen met his eyes. “Your father forbid military intervention. The church wants her blood. Heaven wants her body. Every option leads to the same place. She’s just picking the path.”

Vorthraxx slammed his fist into the wall. Stone cracked. “I hate this. I hate that heaven gets to win.”

“Heaven always wins eventually. That’s the nature of divine authority.” Owen pushed off the doorframe. “The question is what we do about it.”

“But What can we do, brother!?”

“Bear witness. Make sure her death is remembered. And when the time comes, make heaven pay for what it’s done.”

—

They found Celeste in her chambers, packing the few possessions she had accumulated. The dagger she had forged. A spare set of clothing and Nothing else.

“I’m leaving at dawn,” she said without looking up. “Alone. I’ll reach the city by midday.”

“And then?” Vorthraxx asked.

“Trial. Probably quick. Confession of heresy simplifies things.” She folded the clothing carefully. “Execution within a day or two. Public, most likely. The church enjoys making examples.”

“How can you be so calm about this?”

“I’m not calm.” She finally met his eyes. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t start a war over me. Don’t let my death become the excuse for a conflict heaven is engineering. Whatever the Arbiter does, whatever comes next, don’t give it what it wants.”

Vorthraxx opened his mouth. Closed it. “I can’t promise that.”

“Then promise me you’ll try.” Her voice softened. “Please, Promise you’ll at least try to be the dragon I fell in love with. The one who values life. Who sees beyond pride and power.”

“I… promise to try.”

She kissed him. Long enough that Owen looked away. When they separated, her eyes were wet.

“Thank you. For everything. For seeing me as more than the mark. For fighting when fighting was stupid. For loving me despite knowing it would end badly.” She touched his face. “I wish we had more time.”

“We could have had forever if heaven hadn’t—”

“But it did. And we knew it would.” She stepped back. “Go now. Both of you. I need to finish preparing.”

Vorthraxx didn’t move. Owen grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door.

—

They spent the night in the archives. Neither slept.

Dawn came.

Celeste emerged from her chambers wearing simple traveling clothes. The pack on her back was light.

“I thought I told you to stay here,” she said when she saw them waiting.

“You did.” Vorthraxx’s voice was rough. “I’m ignoring that instruction. I’m flying you to the city border. After that, you’re on your own.”

“Vorthraxx—”

“Not negotiable. You get to choose your death. I get to choose how I say goodbye.”

She didn’t argue further.

They left Drak’thar together. Vorthraxx in dragon form, Owen and Celeste on his back. The purple sky gave way to normal blue as they crossed dimensional barriers.

The flight took three hours. Nobody spoke.

They landed five miles from the city gates. Close enough for Celeste to walk the rest. Far enough that Vorthraxx’s presence wouldn’t cause panic.

Celeste dismounted. Adjusted her pack. Looked at the city walls in the distance.

“This is where we part.”

“I could still—” Vorthraxx started.

“No. This is my choice. Let me make it.” She hugged him one final time. “Be good. Don’t let grief make you cruel.”

“I can’t promise that either.”

“I know.” She released him and turned to Owen. “Thank you for trying. For being his friend. For helping even when it was hopeless.”

“I wish we’d succeeded.”

“Me too.”

She walked toward the city. Didn’t look back.

Vorthraxx watched until she was completely gone. Then he shifted to humanoid form and sat on the ground.

“What do we do now?”

“We wait,” Owen said. “And we watch what happens next.”

—

They made camp in the forest. Close enough to observe the city. Far enough to avoid detection.

News reached them by evening. Celeste Brennan had surrendered. Confessed to heresy. Accepted judgment without protest.

The trial was scheduled for the following morning. Public execution to follow immediately after the inevitable guilty verdict.

Vorthraxx wanted to storm the cathedral. Owen talked him down. “That’s what heaven wants. Dragon aggression justifying divine intervention. Don’t give them the excuse.”

“Then what do I do?”

“Bear witness. Remember. When the time comes, make them pay.”

—

The trial was theater.

Celeste stood before Inquisitor Vale and recited her crimes. Studying forbidden languages. Consorting with dragons. Bearing celestial marks. Refusing church authority.

Guilty on all counts.

Sentence: death by purification.

The execution was scheduled for noon in the cathedral square.

Owen and Vorthraxx watched from a rooftop overlooking the plaza. Vorthraxx in humanoid form, hood drawn. Owen beside him, equally concealed.

The crowd gathered. Thousands. Some jeering. Some watching with morbid curiosity. Some protesting the execution as unjust.

Celeste was led to the platform. No chains. She walked with dignity. Stood at the center of the ceremonial circle.

Serr Vale read the charges again. Pronounced sentence. Asked if she had final words.

“I regret nothing.” Her voice carried across the square. “My only crime was choosing understanding over ignorance. Knowledge over fear. Love over doctrine. If that’s heresy, then I’m guilty. But history will judge which of us was truly wrong.”

Serr Vale gestured to the executioner.

The man stepped forward with torch. Touched it to kindling stacked around the platform.

Traditional witch burning at the stake.

Except the flames never reached her.

The mark on Celeste’s sternum activated.

Light exploded from her chest. Geometric patterns became three-dimensional reality. White fire consumed her body, not to destroy, but to transform.

Her flesh became translucent. Her bones visible. Her entire form converting to pure energy.

The crowd screamed and fled.

A pillar of light descended from the sky. Radiant and terrible. It enveloped Celeste completely.

Her body disintegrated, Dissolving into particles of light that spiraled upward into the pillar.

The harvesting took thirty seconds. Celeste’s physical form broke apart and ascended. The pillar absorbed every particle.

Then it vanished.

The plaza fell silent except for sobbing from the crowd. Some fell to their knees in religious ecstasy. Others ran in terror.

Celeste was gone.

Not executed, but Harvested.

Vorthraxx stood frozen. Staring at the empty platform where she’d been standing moments before.

“She’s gone.” His voice was hollow. “They took her.”

Owen said nothing.

The crowd dispersed. Some praised divine justice. Others questioned what they’d witnessed. The church would call it purification. Proof of celestial favor.

But Owen and Vorthraxx knew better.

That wasn’t purification. That was consumption.

The Arbiter had taken Celeste’s physical form as material for something. Broken her down to component energy. Used her exactly as the mark had been designed to do.

Vorthraxx’s wings spread. His tail lashed. Power radiated from him in waves that made nearby birds fall from the sky.

“They killed her.” His voice shook. “The church. The Arbiter. They murdered her and called it justice.”

“Vorthraxx—”

“They took everything. Her life. Her body. Her choice. Used her like fuel and discarded her.” His golden eyes blazed. “And they think they won! They think divine authority makes this acceptable!.”

Reality bent around him. The aura of his Sovereign authority activating without giving it a conscious direction. Grief manifesting as raw power.

“What are you going to do?” Owen asked carefully.

Vorthraxx looked at the cathedral. At the city. At the world that had killed the woman he loved.

“What I should have done from the beginning.” His voice was cold. “I’m going to burn this world.”

“Your father forbid—”

“My father forbid intervention to save her. Didn’t say anything about retaliation after her murder.” He turned to Owen. “The Arbiter engineered this. Used human ignorance and church dogma to kill Celeste. Made it look like righteous execution while harvesting her for divine purposes.”

“You don’t know that for certain.”

“I know she’s dead. I know the mark activated exactly as celestial programming intended. I know heaven got exactly what it wanted.” His hands clenched. “And I know I’m done letting them manipulate mortals like game pieces.”

“War with heaven means—”

“Everything. I know. Casualties. Destruction. My father’s anger. Potential catastrophe.” Vorthraxx’s expression was granite. “I don’t care. They took Celeste. They’re going to pay. Everyone is going to pay!”

Owen watched his future enemy crystallize. This was the moment. Where love died and rage was born. Where the dragon who would become the Desecrator chose vengeance over wisdom.

“What do you need from me?”

“Bear witness, brother. Remember why this started. When the histories call me monster, tell them I had reasons.” Vorthraxx spread his wings. “And if I fall, make sure heaven doesn’t get to write the ending unopposed.”

He launched skyward.

Owen watched him fly toward Drak’thar. Toward his father. Toward the beginning of the war that would define the next era.

Below, cathedral bells rang. Celebrating successful execution. Praising divine justice.

They had no idea what was coming.

Owen looked at the sky where the pillar had been. Where Celeste had been harvested.

Heaven had won this round, But the game was far from over.

The Desecrator was born today, And heaven would learn to regret it…

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep