Chapter 5 The Confession of a King's Pawn

The towering figure in obsidian armor, having stepped from the phantom train and addressed Milena Zora as "Daughter," remained absolutely still. He stood like a monument to dread, the lurid purple light of the Arbiter’s Carriage casting his shadow long and grotesque across the rusted tracks. His eyes, unseen behind the helm, were locked precisely on the narrow recess where Milena and Nikolai were hidden.

The silence that descended was more suffocating than any sewage gas, heavier than the iron of the sluice gate they had just breached.

Milena's heartbeat was a frantic drum against the rough stone. But it was not fear that governed her first reaction; it was a pure, visceral denial.

“A lie,” Milena whispered, her voice raw, yet laced with a desperate certainty. “It is… it is not him.”

Nikolai Volkov’s grip on her back tightened reflexively. His training taught him that denial was a luxury only the doomed could afford. He lived by cold, practical logic, and logic stated: This enemy knows her, and Milena knows him.

“Who is he, Zora?” Nikolai grated low, his breath a warm disturbance near her ear. “And why does he wear the Serpent’s sigil while calling you Daughter?”

Milena struggled weakly against his hold, her muscles coiled with a tension that was rapidly becoming fury. “That is my father. He… he should be years dead.”

“The King of Solaria?” Nikolai scoffed, adjusting the weight of his obsidian dagger. “Kings do not lurk in city drains wearing cult armor and hunting their own children. That is the lie you believe, Princess.”

“He is a Guard,” she insisted, her voice gaining brittle strength. “That armor...the Draco Guard...it’s the King's personal, cursed sentinel. They only move for bloodline affairs. The locket… it was only a meaningless trinket of my mother’s.”

The Draco Guard finally moved. He did not charge. Instead, he walked with heavy, measured steps toward the collapsed sluice gate where they had emerged. In his hand, Milena’s silver locket...the "meaningless trinket"...gleamed dully, reflecting the carriage’s violent purple sheen.

“He is searching the tunnel, Volkov,” Milena urged, desperation creeping back in. “He knows we came through. We must flee. Now.”

“No,” Nikolai refused, his answer a solid wall. "He is the apex of your trouble. And somehow, he is also the key to mine. I do not run from keys. I break them open."

Nikolai stepped out of the shadow.

Milena lunged, snatching his arm with surprising strength, her fingers digging through his leather sleeve. “You are insane, Nikolai! He is not a Void Whisperer. He is a Guard forged to contain cosmic energy. You cannot kill him!”

“I won't kill him,” Nikolai corrected, his storm-gray eyes locked onto the towering figure. “I will force him to speak.”

Nikolai moved with the lethal grace of a starved predator. His speed was absolute, reliant on muscle memory and the singular focus of his intent.

The Draco Guard turned slowly. He did not appear surprised to see the assassin. Rather, he seemed profoundly disappointed.

“I offered you the grace of death, Volkov,” the voice from behind the helmet boomed, deep and raspy, carrying the slight echo of ancient, faded authority. "Why did you bring my daughter here?"

“Your daughter is my cure,” Nikolai stated plainly, holding the obsidian dagger in a reversed grip. “And she is the key to your Cultus. Are you a betrayed King, or merely a cursed pawn?”

The Draco Guard raised a hand. The Draco Constellation sigil on his chest flared with obsidian light. It was not mere decoration; it was a concentrated wellspring of power.

“You do not understand,” the figure muttered. “I do this to protect her from the Oath.”

Milena suddenly burst from the shadow, ignoring Nikolai’s previous warning. "What Oath, Father?! You were supposed to die at the Battle of the Lions! You are here hunting your own daughter?!"

Milena's scream of anguish made the Draco Guard momentarily falter...a more effective disruption than any spell.

“Milena, stop!” the figure roared, and in that millisecond of distraction, Nikolai attacked.

He did not aim for the heart. He aimed for the small, intricate gap in the shoulder plating...the only known weak point in Draco craftsmanship.

The obsidian dagger met the obsidian armor. The sound was not of metal clashing against metal, but of cosmic glass shattering. The dark energy contained within the armor violently repelled the attack, sending Nikolai careening into the tunnel wall with agonizing force.

He scrambled back up, blood trickling from his lip, the agonizing flare of the rejection searing his flesh. His Volkov Brand screamed...not in pain, but in recognition. The Volkov Curse and the Draco Armor were two sides of the same Starforged coin.

“You are Starforged,” Nikolai gasped, forcing the air into his bruised lungs. “That armor is not a shield. It is a prison.”

Milena slid forward. Her hands glowed with pure, raw Light Weaving. She did not attack the Guard; she attacked the locket clutched in the man’s gauntleted hand.

Milena's light was starlight demanding restitution. The locket exploded in the Draco Guard’s grasp, releasing a sudden shower of silver dust.

The armored figure flinched, dropping his weapon. “You… you knew,” he wheezed, the true voice of the King emerging from behind the helm, laced with profound despair.

“I knew you weren't dead, Father,” Milena said, tears streaming, yet her eyes remained hard. “I knew you allowed yourself to be cursed to guard that trinket. What did it hold? What secret does the Cultus seek?”

The Draco Guard sank to one knee, his armor smoking faintly. The combined assault of Light Magic and emotional truth had destabilized its ancient seals.

“The locket…” he struggled, pointing to the ruined chain. “It held the map. The map to the Crown of Ashes.”

Nikolai felt his muscles lock up. The Crown of Ashes...the prophesied Artifact that could cure his curse, yet doom Milena. The Lore Revelation was immediately tied to their shared destiny.

“The Crown of Ashes,” Milena repeated, her voice strained. “What does it mean to the Serpent’s Cult?”

“The Cult believes the Crown will summon the Ancient Titan they worship,” the Draco Guard answered, his voice growing weak. “They need the Light Weaver (Milena) to activate the map, and the Starforged Host (Nikolai) to open the path to the Crown. Your curse… it is the key to that path. They only allowed you to live for it. I… I had to kill you both before the Titan could rise.”

The figure raised his hand, not to strike, but in a gesture of profound apology. “You don’t understand. I am merely their pawn… just like you, Volkov.”

A new sound erupted in the tunnel. Not echoes, but the rhythmic, heavy march of a dozen soldiers, accompanied by the low, distinct hum of approaching dark magic.

“They are here,” Nikolai said, reverting to the detached Assassin. The window for philosophy was slamming shut.

Milena looked at her incapacitated father, then toward the encroaching darkness. She inhaled sharply, containing her emotional devastation, and returned to a posture of Heroic resolve.

“Father,” Milena commanded, her voice cold and resonant with the power of a future Queen. “You failed. The locket has been destroyed. Tell me: where is the one place we can be safe from the Titan and the Cultus?”

The Draco Guard offered a sad, weary smile beneath his helmet. “There is no safe place from destiny, Princess.” He then pointed to the Arbiter’s Carriage. “Get on the car. It will carry you into the Whispering Labyrinth. It is off the map, but it will shield you. At least… for a while.”

Nikolai wasted no more time. He grabbed Milena’s arm. “He’s right. Time is done.”

They raced toward the iron carriage door. Behind them, the Draco Guard stood tall, reigniting the failing energies in his armor.

“I will hold them,” the Draco Guard declared. “Run! And Milena… find your mother. She is not dead.”

It was the final, sharp emotional twist. Milena could only respond with a look of profound shock before Nikolai violently pulled her into the carriage.

Nikolai shoved her into the cold, ozone-scented interior.

A loud crash sounded behind them as the Draco Guard engaged the first wave of Cultus soldiers.

Milena looked out the window. The carriage began to move, propelled not by an engine, but by the dark, unsettling drone of Void energy beneath the tracks.

“Did you hear him, Volkov?” Milena said, her voice strained. “My mother… she is alive. And she… she must know the way to avoid the Crown of Ashes.”

Nikolai stared at Milena. Her Star Essence glow in the darkness made the Volkov Brand on his chest pulse softly. The silence was a necessity. And now, hope was too.

“The mission is reset,” Nikolai stated. “We find the missing Queen. She is the new wild card.”

The Arbiter’s Carriage surged violently into the unknown dark, carrying two enemies newly bound by curse, love, and the map to a crown that could destroy them both.