NOVEL NEXT Vol 2. Chapter 17: A Letter Left Unwritten
A year had passed since the day Lukas—no, Klein—first stepped into the Tower. His climb of the the Magic Tower had slowed, yes, but it had never been about speed. In that time, the Head Mage's apprentice had carved out more than just a path through the floors. He had carved out a space for the outcasts, for the overlooked, for those with lesser Divinities or without the Church's gilded approval.
Where once the halls of the Tower had been silent, cold, and steeped in the pressure of expectations, now they buzzed with energy.
Mages traded spells in open courtyards, young apprentices practiced without fear of ridicule, and the bullying that had once been commonplace had dwindled to shadows Lukas snuffed out without hesitation.
The Church's grip on Magnus' Magic Tower had begun to loosen. Slowly. Imperceptibly. But certainly.
The Tower now had a new pillar, one that they could rely on.
A new rising star. The Mage that they call Klein. They whispered his name with reverence, with awe, and with fear.
Lukas had already faced the Guardians of the Higher Floors, each one wielding unique Divinities that he had never seen before. They were impressive and their spells were worthy of respect—but none of them had ever truly posed a challenge to him.
Lukas had not remained stagnant, however.
During the hours where others slept, the Divinity of the Seas continued to improve. He had to ensure that his own growth persisted such that he would return to the level he had achieved in Kairos Castle. The Kraken still seemed to remain mostly dormant but he was getting better each and every day; adjusting to this new form of his.
If Lukas maintained this rate, if he continued at this pace, then just before his time in Easthaven came to an end—just before he would be forced to return to Linemall for the Draconic Summit—he would reclaim the power he once held after his battle with the Monarch.
And for Lukas, that was more than enough to face whatever awaited him in the Kingdom of Dragons. But for now, he had other things to worry about.
The Graduation Ceremony
It was rare—unheard of—for an apprentice to be certified as a proper mage in a single year. The ceremony was typically a distant goal, achieved only after years of study and gruelling floor ascents. But Lukas had long since eclipsed the bar. No one could deny that.
Everything was going well for Lukas Drakos in the Kingdom of Easthaven. He had learnt the basics of this language of Runes and it had perhaps taught him more about magic than he'd ever known before. He was proud of Rosalia's progress as she continued to train hard and give it her all to become the next Divine Knight Candidate.
Lukas should have been happy.
But he wasn't.
Because it was only her that he could think about: Styx.
A name that once brought him peace. Now, a name that now sat heavy on his tongue.
During the thousand years they had spent together in Kairos Castle, she had told him many things. About the other rivers of the afterlife, her sisters that she wanted Lukas to one day meet. About the forgotten gods: the Primordials who ruled the realms before the Titans. About the weight of unbreakable oaths.
But never—not once—had Styx mentioned that she was the daughter of Oceanus.
The very god who had brought ruin to the dragons. The god whose hand had helped shatter Linemall. The god who summoned his father from his world and brought down the Hero who drove Lukas' people to the edge of extinction. The god who had forced the Hero to remain here in Hiraeth on an empty promise that Oceanus himself knew he could not keep.
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Lukas could still hear Celina's voice, so casual, as if it were common knowledge.
"Isn't it obvious? She is the eldest daughter of Oceanus."
It had blindsided him.
It was the kind of truth that rattled the bones.
What hurt the most was not the revelation itself. It was that he hadn't heard it from Styx. After everything they'd been through. After every moment they'd shared.
Lukas sat alone in his room, the quiet wrapping around him like a vice.
A single letter lay unfinished on the desk before him. The first letter he could not bring himself to complete. His quill hovered over the parchment, trembling slightly, ink pooling at the tip until a droplet finally fell, staining the untouched surface.
What could he even say to her? How did one put this kind of hurt into words?
Lukas had been writing to her ever since his return to the living world—telling her about his journey, about the people he had met, about Rosalia and Magnus and the Tower and the things he had seen—but now…
Now Lukas wasn't sure what to tell her. He didn't even know how he felt.
Was he angry? Did he feel betrayed?
Did he even have the right to feel that way?
Lukas imagined it from her perspective. The weight she must have carried. How hard it must have been in her position. How could she have known that she would fall in love with the same dragon who she watched train in that castle? And how hard must have it been to know that the only reason why Lukas trained as hard as he did was because he knew he might one day have to stand against her own father?
How could she have told him that truth?
How could she have risked losing him with it?
Lukas remembered her words as they sat before the fireplace. She had said that she would not be held back by the past. She had told him she loved her father but she could no longer go on living for him. She would live for something more.
She wanted to live for someone else. Styx hadn't said it then but Lukas knew she had chosen to live for him.
Did she say it because she knew Lukas would one day find out? Did she say it because she had already chosen him over her bloodline?
His grip on the quill tightened, his heart pulling in a dozen directions at once.
Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you trust me?
But even now, even with the weight of this truth, he couldn't bring himself to hate her.
How could he?
Lukas loved her. Styx was his anchor. She was his future.
Wasn't she?
The silence in the room stretched long and unbearable as Lukas finally set the quill down. His fingers ran through his hair, frustration and grief twisting his expression.
The silence was loud. He could feel it gnawing at the edges of his thoughts as the ink slowly dried on the untouched letter. For the first time since his return to the living world, Lukas couldn't bring himself to write his letter to Styx.
Lukas had always known what to say before. But not tonight.
He picked up the quill again. His hand hovered, the quill tip just inches above the parchment, trembling slightly.
Then there was a knock at the door, sharp and firm. It echoed unnaturally in the dead of the night.
Lukas blinked, torn from the spiral of his thoughts. He wasn't expecting anyone. Not at this hour.
He rose and crossed the room, opening the door.
There, standing beneath the flickering lantern light, was the King of Easthaven himself.
"Walk with me," the old man said.
No explanation. No room for questions.
Lukas glanced back at the unfinished letter on his desk, the ink still glistening where it had pooled. There would be time for this later.
For now, he would follow the Head Mage as he had asked him to.
Without another word, Lukas stepped out, closing the door behind him, leaving the letter to the Goddess of Unbreakable Oaths unwritten for the very first time since his return to the living.