Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)
Chapter 406 - 400: More than you think

Chapter 406: Chapter 400: More than you think

Goliath’s smile didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened, shadowed by something that felt almost like triumph. He tapped the head of his cane lightly against the stone floor, as if marking the rhythm of a lesson long rehearsed.

"You heard me," he said quietly, golden eyes bright beneath the lantern glow. "That mark on your neck, the one he left you with, it’s not just a claim, Gabriel. It’s a thread. A living one. It ties you to him beyond time, beyond distance... beyond worlds."

Gabriel felt his pulse jolt, the faint burn of Damian’s mark flaring under the collar of his coat as though it had heard the words. He remembered the heat of teeth breaking skin, the low rasp of Damian’s breath, the strange pull in his chest afterward that had never quite gone away.

"But... this shard isn’t real," Gabriel said slowly, almost to himself. "It’s ether, memory, a cage Olivier built. How can..."

"How can a bond care about walls Olivier made?" Goliath cut in, voice low but edged with that familiar bite of command. "It doesn’t. Open it, Gabriel. When you’re alone again, when there’s no one watching, open it. Let yourself reach for him."

Gabriel’s throat went dry, the idea lodging in his mind like a blade driven deep. "If I do that," he murmured, "what will I see?"

"Not much at first," Goliath admitted, leaning back on his cane, his voice dropping to something almost gentle. "But you’ll feel him. You’ll know how far away he is. How fast you need to move. And if you’re lucky..." a flicker of that dark amusement returned, "he might feel you back. That bond of yours is stronger than Olivier’s little tricks. It’ll carry more than you think."

Gabriel stared at him, the shard’s walls seeming to waver in his peripheral vision, like the world itself was holding its breath.

"He’s waiting," Goliath said softly, as though reading the unspoken question. "In your world. Waiting for you to wake up. That’s why you’re dangerous, boy. Because you’re not just fighting for yourself, you’re fighting for him, and he’s already fighting for you."

The weight of those words settled deep, grounding Gabriel in a way nothing else in this shard had. He felt the burn of the mark at his nape again, not painful, but steady, alive.

Gabriel’s lips curved faintly, a sharp, breathless smile that was more defiance than hope.

"Then I’ll reach him," he said, voice low and certain, "and we’ll make sure Olivier chokes on every piece of this world before it falls apart."

Goliath’s answering grin was fierce and proud, the kind that had once fueled rebellions.

"That’s my boy," he said. "Now go. Plan. And when you’re ready, open that bond."

Gabriel stood very still, the faint hum of ether in the walls brushing like static against his skin.

The shard trembled again, subtle as a heartbeat, as if even this private conversation was testing its limits.

His voice was quiet when it came, stripped of any pretense.

"...What happens to you if the shard dies?"

Goliath didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted past Gabriel’s shoulder, to the lantern light swaying faintly overhead, to the shadows lengthening across the dark-veined marble. For a moment he looked older than he ever had on the throne, the weight of centuries resting on him.

Then his eyes returned to Gabriel, sharp, unwavering, still alive.

"When the shard dies," Goliath said slowly, "Olivier dies with it. Every copy, every stolen thing... burns away." He tapped the head of his cane once, a soft, final sound. "And so do I."

Gabriel’s throat tightened. "But you said..."

"I’m bound to the Empire’s ward," Goliath interrupted gently. "That part of me is anchored. What you see standing here?" He gestured around the dim chamber. "This is only what Olivier took. A memory given form. A copy, like Peter... only with teeth."

Gabriel stared, the weight of those words sinking in. "So when the shard breaks... this version of you..."

"Gone," Goliath said simply. No fear in his tone, only certainty. "But boy..." His lips curved faintly, that same fierce pride threading through his weariness. "The part that mattered? The part that taught you, that trusted you? That’s already with you. And the rest of me, what Olivier never touched, still waits beyond these walls."

Gabriel’s hand flexed at his side, the shard trembling faintly again as if it resented the truth spoken aloud. "You’d let yourself burn with him."

Goliath gave a soft, rasping laugh, shaking his head. "I’ve burned before, Gabriel. For the Empire. For the future you’re walking toward. This is nothing new." He leaned forward slightly, golden eyes locking on Gabriel’s with a brightness that cut through the heavy air. "You make sure you get out. You make sure Damian holds the throne. That’s the only way any of this, " he gestured to the false world around them, "was worth it."

Gabriel swallowed hard, the taste of copper still lingering in his mouth. "You’ll be gone."

"Not gone," Goliath corrected softly. "Just... elsewhere. Where I belong."

For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke. Then Gabriel drew in a slow breath, squaring his shoulders, every line of him sharpening with resolve.

"Then I’ll make sure it’s not for nothing," he said, voice low, steady.

Goliath’s smile returned, small but fierce.

"That’s all I ever wanted to hear, boy. Now go carve your way out before Olivier notices we’ve been plotting."

Gabriel bowed, the motion low but brief and turned on his heel.

The brass doors whispered open at his approach, the seal hissing as ether locks disengaged.

The hallway beyond was dimmer now, the sconces burning with a softer, amber light, as if the shard itself were adjusting to a new act in its carefully written play. Gabriel’s boots struck the stone in a measured rhythm, each step deliberate, each breath steady despite the tight coil in his chest.

An attendant was waiting where the corridor bent back toward the grand passage. She bowed deeply, hands clasped around the long shaft of her staff. Her robes were immaculate, the embroidery catching the lantern light with a shimmer of silver threads.

"Master Gabriel," she said softly, lifting her head just enough to meet his gaze. Her voice was smooth, almost soothing, but her eyes were sharp, like all of them were, in this place. "If you would follow me. His Majesty awaits you."

Gabriel inclined his head, saying nothing. He let her lead him through the twisting hallways, past mirrored panels that reflected fragments of himself, a shoulder, the hem of his coat, the faint glint of his eyes, always distorted, as if the shard itself were testing how much of him it could claim.

As they neared the main audience hall, the air grew warmer, scented faintly with sandalwood and something sweet that teased at old memories, nights in the palace gardens, moonlight on still water, laughter stolen in shadows.

Gabriel’s jaw tightened. Of course, he thought bitterly. Olivier would know exactly what to use.

The double doors opened soundlessly, attendants on either side bowing low. And there, in the center of the chamber, beneath the golden light spilling from the high windows, waited the man himself.

Olivier.