Single for Eternity
Chapter 121. Broken

Chapter 121: 121. Broken

The word lingered.

Then, slowly, the blue archway shimmered again—its light less radiant now, more melancholic, as though it mourned what it must say.

"Unless..."

A beat.

Then the decree was spoken.

"Unless one among you is willing to forsake their House. To abandon their name, their claim, their legacy. In exchange for annulment, you must cast away the very lineage that binds you. Forever."

A second silence swallowed the room—this one heavier than before.

The weight of centuries pressed down on their shoulders.

Seren’s breath hitched.

Even Einar, usually unfazed, stilled.

The white archway whispered next, gentler than before. "Such a decision is not trivial. To sever oneself from a Great House is to die to it. All protection, power, inheritance—gone. You will be nameless... a rootless being in Aetherion."

Seren’s gaze dropped.

Her fists clenched.

She had imagined defiance would be the end of it. That if they stood united, their refusal would be enough. But now... this?

This was not just rebellion.

This was exile.

Her mind spiraled—images flashing through her thoughts like blades:

The training grounds where she first held Dissonance... the ancient library of House Album, the forbidden texts only her bloodline could access... the secret chamber of Aether-weaving rituals passed down from the Album Matriarchs... the eyes of her younger siblings, looking up to her, believing in her strength, her authority, her place.

All of that... would vanish.

Gone.

She bit the inside of her lip hard enough to taste blood.

She hated her family.

But she loved what being Seren Album meant.

And perhaps... she feared what being just Seren might not.

She turned her head—slowly, reluctantly—toward Einar.

He hadn’t moved.

Still standing tall, gaze unmoved, watching the archways with the same unreadable calm.

Her voice came quieter than before.

"Einar..."

He glanced at her.

She smiled, faintly.

But it was strained.

"You don’t have to do this," she said.

He raised a brow. "Didn’t you just say—?"

"I know what I said," she cut in, sharper than intended. Then, a softer breath. "But there’s no reason for you to give up everything just to prove a point."

"I thought it wasn’t just a point," he replied.

Seren stepped closer.

She placed a hand on his arm, not gripping—just resting there.

"I’m not worth that price," she whispered.

His eyes narrowed—not in annoyance, but in thought. Watching her, seeing through her.

"Is this what you really think?" he asked. "Or are you scared to lose the comfort your name gives you?"

Seren flinched, just slightly. Her hand withdrew.

She didn’t answer immediately.

"I hate them," she said. "The control. The expectations. The leash around my neck."

She looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

"But I’m not ready to walk away from what I am because of them. Not yet."

Einar looked back to the archways.

The silence lingered.

Even the Lords did not speak now—they waited.

The decision lay before them, but it could not be shared.

Only one had to step into the void.

Seren clenched her jaw.

"Let’s just... ask for something else," she said quietly. "You could get a legendary artifact. Deity grade spells. Elixirs to push your realm easily. Or a personal realm. We don’t have to burn everything down to be free. We can make this work."

Still, he didn’t answer.

Not at first.

Then, he moved.

Just a single step toward the archways.

And raised his head.

"Einar—" Seren’s voice wavered.

He exhaled.

"...My decision is—"

...

"I will sever my bonds."

Darkness fell for only a moment—then light, red and furious, exploded from the central archway.

It didn’t shimmer or pulse this time.

It raged.

The red archway’s glow became a wildfire, and from within stepped a figure draped in embroidered robes soaked with runes of blood and dominion. His presence eclipsed the other voices instantly—an emperor among ghosts.

Varek Sanguis.

Head of House Sanguis. Lord of Blood.

And Einar’s father.

The air cracked under his arrival. The room, vast as it was, strained to contain his pressure.

Even the other top ten Sovereigns staggered backward, coughing, clutching their chests as the very aether thickened like molten iron.

Only two people stood unmoving.

Einar.

And Seren—though her knees bent slightly under the force.

"You would throw away our name. Our legacy. For what?" Varek’s voice was not loud—but it carved through space like a razor across silk.

Einar didn’t flinch. His blood trickled from his lip where it split under the strain, but he kept his head high.

"For my own freedom," he said. "That is the price. And I’m willing to pay it."

Varek didn’t move at first. He just stared at his son. The disappointment in his gaze was not fiery—it was absolute. The kind that could crush mountains.

And then—

Without a word, Varek stepped forward.

The moment his foot touched the stone floor, a ripple of sheer aetheric weight shot outward like a shockwave.

Einar fell to one knee. His bones screamed under the pressure. Blood dripped from his nose, ears, the corners of his eyes. Even the golden runes etched across the chamber dimmed, struggling to contain the lord’s fury.

"You earned the right to choose," Varek said coldly. "But you do not get to walk away without understanding the cost."

He lifted a single finger.

And then—crushed the space between them.

Einar’s body folded under it. His ribs cracked audibly, chest heaving against the invisible force. His palms dug into the ground, cracking the stone beneath. But he still looked up.

Still defiant.

"Do you yield?" Varek asked, quiet, calm—like a judge at the gallows.

Einar spat blood to the side and smiled through a broken tooth.

"Never."

Varek’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t scream. Didn’t rage.

He simply reached forward, fingers glowing with searing blood-aether, and plunged his hand into Einar’s face.

Seren gasped and tried to move, but the weight of the red gate’s authority froze her in place.

With a guttural whisper, Varek tore his hand back—

Ripping both of Einar’s eyes free.

The orbs gleamed unnaturally—scarlet, pulsing, uniquely Sanguis.

"These are mine by birthright, and yours only by blood," Varek said, voice shaking with restrained fury. "You reject the House? Then I reject you. The Sanguis have heirs with the blood-eyes."

He turned then—dismissing his son like a failed creation.

"The trial deems you worthy of admission," he spat. "Fine. The rules are law. You may enter the academy."

Einar’s bloodied face trembled, breath ragged, pain ripping through every nerve.

Then—something changed.

The bleeding stopped.

Varek paused.

Everyone stared.

Einar’s eye sockets began to shimmer.

And in the next breath—his eyes began to regrow.

Not just regenerate—but reform, in the same scarlet hue.

A silent horror dawned across the chamber.

Varek’s pupils narrowed. "That’s not—"

But before he could finish, a crackling sound tore through the space.

Einar raised a shaking hand—and his Symbiote surged forth, latching to his face like a skeletal mask. Tendrils of dark red energy shot out and wrapped tightly around his regenerating sockets.

Sealing them.

The healing halted.

He forced it to stop.

And then he rose.

Blood-soaked, hollow-eyed, trembling.

But standing.

"I don’t want your gifts," he said hoarsely. "Not even these."

And he smiled.

Blind.

But more awake than ever.

...

Silence.

A silence so thick it drowned thought itself.

The world, for a brief moment, had stopped spinning.

Even the pulsing gates fell dormant, their once divine lights dimmed in the presence of something far more human.

Einar.

Seren stood frozen, her silver hair splayed across her shoulders, her crimson eyes wide and glinting—not with fear, but something deeper.

Something sharper.

The taste of metal filled her mouth. She realized she’d bitten her lip—so hard it bled.

She had seen monsters. Gods.

She had stood against Demigods and sliced through horrors that bent reality.

But this...

This was the most terrifying thing she’d ever witnessed.

Not Varek.

Not his brutality.

Not even the way he ripped the very eyes from his own son with less care than one might tear away weeds.

But Einar.

Standing.

Blind.

Still smiling.

The chain that bound Seren’s heart to obedience tightened—but only for a moment.

Then it cracked.

She took a step forward.

Just one.

It was instinct.

She had seen those eyes—the ones he’d just lost—look at her without judgement. Without fear. Without the ambition or hunger she’d grown to despise in noble scions.

Einar never looked at her like she was a chess piece.

Not even once.

And now... those eyes were gone.

By his own hand.

By his father’s hand.

All for the sake of freedom.

Her jaw trembled.

She tried to harden her heart. To hold on to that Album pride—to the name that gave her status, gave her influence, gave her power.

But right now... it all felt filthy.

And weak.

He stood there, blood pouring down his face like a mask, yet his spine was straighter than any lord she’d ever bowed to.

And in his defiance, she saw something she hadn’t felt in years.

Hope.

"Idiot," she whispered—barely audible even to herself.

But it wasn’t an insult.

It was awe.

And maybe... envy.

Her hands clenched at her sides. She had said she hated the engagement. Declared her will to be free.

But when the time came, when the price was revealed, she hesitated.

She didn’t choose to suffer.

She didn’t sacrifice anything.

He did.

She looked down at her own palms.

Smooth. Unscarred. Clean.

Too clean.

A sick knot twisted in her stomach.

For a fleeting second, she wanted to grab Dissonance and cleave through every single gate. Every single Lord. Every law that had made this moment necessary.

Instead, she whispered again—only slightly louder.

"...Why did you go that far?"

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t see her. But something in his jaw twitched—like he knew what she was thinking.

Like he’d always known.

’I hate this world,’ she thought. ’But I never truly fought it. Not like he did.’

The quiet buzz of arcane aether began to return as the Sovereign Chamber recalibrated.

The golden gate flared to life again, preparing to speak.

But Seren didn’t hear it.

Her gaze remained locked on him—on Einar Sanguis, the disowned heir, the blind fool, the broken Sovereign.

And her heart whispered a single truth.

She would follow this one.

Not because she had to.

Not because she was bound.

But because, in a world full of masks and pretenders...

He was real.

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