Rise of the Devourer
Book 4: Chapter 35 — Lunar Cultists Pt 3

His younger brother Kean stood directing the cultists, his face visible in the torchlight. But this wasn't the Kean that Kaelan remembered—the ambitious and kind boy who he always had fun talking to. This version wore robes marked with lunar sigils, and had a manic grin on his face that made him look just as twisted as the other cultists.

"Complete the ritual preparations quicker," Kean was saying to a cultist beside him. "We can't waste time. It's not everyday that we get such quality sacrifices.”

Kaelan felt Seraphina's sharp intake of breath behind him, but his own attention was fixed on the cells. In the far corner, he could see his father—Captain Averos—chained with restraints that glowed with suppressive magic. Snow was in an adjacent cell, restraints binding her to the bars, barely conscious. Along with her were his other family members—his mother and Keya—unconscious.

"We need to get closer," Kaelan breathed, his mind racing as he looked around for the keys to the restraints. "If we can take out the cultists quickly—"

"Brother."

The word cut through the air like a blade. Kean was looking directly at them, his grin having disappeared, replaced with a carefully blank face. The cultists immediately began moving into combat positions, their hands already crackling with magic.

"I was wondering when you'd arrive," Kean continued, his voice almost conversational. "It was only a matter of time, I supposed, being the ‘hero’ that you are, the one with the perfect bloodline and the perfect future. Quite a time for a family reunion, wouldn't you agree?”

Kaelan stepped into the torchlight, his spear ready. "Kean, what have you done? To join the cultists and be willing to sacrifice father, mother and Keya—how could you?!”

Kean's laugh was harsh and brittle. "It's not as if any of you treated me like I’m true family. Always inferior, always lesser.”

“Please, spare me the self righteous spiel,” Kean replied, tutting, “Clearly I'm the delusional one, misunderstanding my family's noble nature, and all the times that I've not been treated the same or looked down upon is just me being sensitive. Is that right, brother?”

Before Kaelan could reply, Kean continued, “It is a pity, though. I wish they'd managed to capture you too. Capturing Father and taking over our residence was foolproof, especially with my information, but I'd thought they'd get you too. Would've been lovely, to see you tied up here instead of blabbering in front of me.”

The words hit Kaelan like physical blows. "You... you've been feeding them information this entire time?"

"For months," Kean said, his grin growing again. "Do you know what it's like, brother? Being born into a family of dragon blood but having just enough dilution to mark you as lesser? Watching as you and Keya get away with stuff that would have gotten me punished? Watch Keya, who works a hundredth as hard as me, receive infinitely better resources and instructors than me?"

At that, all Kaelan could do was grit his teeth and look down, feeling a mix of complex emotions. Frustration, betrayal, rage, but also a deep sense of aching sadness—because he had noticed Kean being treated differently. Not always, not in front of him, but he couldn't deny that favouritism existed.

He'd just never expected that favouritism to push Kean into the arms of the lunar cultists.

"You all didn't treat me differently?" Kean's voice rose with years of accumulated resentment. "Every family gathering where you were introduced as 'the heir', Keya as ‘the genius’ while I was just 'the other son'? Every family dinner where Father would only talk to you and Keya while I was ignored? Every damn time someone mentioned how you two had the 'purer bloodline' as if mine was somehow contaminated?"

Captain Averos growled out, “And so you betray us all?”

Kean turned to the man, examining him for a few seconds, before his voice becoming dangerously quiet, "Yes. I betrayed you all. There wasn't much for me to lose, after all. The cultists offered me recognition. Value. A place where my abilities mattered more than my bloodline. And what did you offer, father? Condescension? What did this kingdom offer me? Scorn? But now, with the lunar cult’s assistance and the rebellion’s victory, we'll change this wretched kingdom—"

He never finished the sentence. Kaelan moved with speed that made his body creak, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. But Kean was ready for him, lunar magic flaring around his hands as he met his brother's charge.

Kaelan opened with a series of lightning-fast thrusts that forced Kean to give ground, each strike aimed at vital points but pulled just enough to wound rather than kill.

His brother countered with lunar magic, frost spreading across his hands as he grabbed for the spear shaft. Where the ice touched the weapon, steam hissed as Kaelan's natural fire-based abilities heated the metal. The blue and the red that swirled around them made their battle a thing of beauty.

Kean launched a wave of ice that hit its target, freezing half of Kaelan’s leg—Kaelan tried to burn the ice away with his flames, but to his surprise, the ice didn't melt.

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“Thought it'd be that easy?” Kean snarled victoriously, “It’s draining your life force and getting stronger—you won't be able to just burn it away—”

What Kean did not seem to have expected, however, was that Kaelan would just slice at his leg, ignoring even as his scales and flesh peeled away with the ice.

Without giving Kean a chance to recover from his momentary surprise, Kaelan thrust his spear forward, piercing through the ice shield his brother erected at the last moment and opening a line of blood across Kean's shoulder.

While they continued battling, steadily whittling away at each other, Seraphina engaged three of the other cultists.

The first cultist launched a bolt of lunar energy that should have frozen her solid. Instead, Seraphina's counter-rune simply dissolved the magical construct, unraveling it into harmless wisps of energy. Before the cultist could react, she completed a binding sequence that locked his magical pathways, leaving him as helpless as ordinary stone.

And then Valeria finished the job, her war axe slicing through flesh like it was fruit.

The second and third cultists tried to retreat, but it only took a few minor elemental runes to make them stumble and trip over their feet.

And Valeria's war axe sang through the air as she cut one of them into two halves. The other raised a silver barrier, clearly desperately hoping it would be enough, but Valeria's axe shattered it like glass.

Her first swing took the cultist's barrier, her second took his arm, and her third ended his participation in the battle permanently.

Two more cultists tried to flank her, but Valeria was already moving. She pivoted on her left foot, her axe describing a devastating arc that caught both opponents in a single sweep. Her combat style was built for battlefield conditions where enemies came from all directions, and these confined quarters played to every advantage her training had given her.

On the brothers’ side, Kaelan was beginning to gain a clear advantage. The sheer skill that he displayed in his spear work was hard to defend against, no matter how much Kean tried to.

"This is what you can't understand," Kaelan said between attacks, his spear work never slowing. "It was never about the bloodline making you lesser. It was about you thinking it did."

Kean's response was a desperate lunge enhanced by lunar magic, his speed temporarily matching Kaelan's enhanced physique. But enhancement could only do so much against a lifetime of elite training. Kaelan sidestepped the attack with minimal movement, his spear already in motion for a counter.

The weapon caught Kean across the back of his knees, the precise strike severing tendons and sending him crashing to the ground. A follow-up thrust placed the spear point at the base of his skull—not piercing, but positioned where even the slightest pressure would prove fatal.

"Yield," Kaelan said quietly.

Kean tried to move, but his legs wouldn't respond. "Just... finish it."

"No." Kaelan stepped back, his spear still ready but no longer threatening. Around them, the last of the cultists had fallen to Seraphina and Valeria's combined assault. "I'm not becoming what you think I am."

Kaelan scanned the detention area, his eyes finding what he was looking for—a ring of keys hanging from the belt of the guard station supervisor, a royal guard who lay motionless near the far wall.

"Seraphina, Valeria," he called, moving toward the keys. "Help me get these suppression shackles off Father and Snow. We need to move before more cultists or royal guards arrive."

The process of releasing the prisoners was smooth—suppression shackles fell away with soft metallic chimes, each one dissipating its magical hold like smoke in the wind. Kaelan's fingers worked methodically, applying precise thermal signatures to the complex lock mechanisms. The metal grew warm under his touch, responding to the specific magical inputs required for release, before he finally used the key to fully free his father.

Captain Averos flexed his wrists as the restraints came free. The man's shoulders sagged with relief, strength slowly returning to muscles that had been artificially weakened. "How long?" he asked, voice rough but gaining clarity with each word.

"Six hours. Maybe seven." Kaelan moved to support his father's unsteady stance. "The suppression effects will fade soon enough."

Snow lay motionless in the adjacent cell, her small form curled against cold stone. Seraphina knelt beside her, studying the girl's pale face with growing concern. "She's not responding."

“Neither are they,” Valeria said, gently trying to wake Keya and Kaelan’s mother up.

"Sedation magic," Captain Averos explained, each word coming easier than the last. "The royal guards didn’t want to leave her awake, in case she’s able to take her… companion’s assistance. And they didn’t want either Keya or Kaelan’s mother to assist her, and hence they sedated them too. Snow should wake up as soon as you remove the shackles. My wife and Keya, however, might take longer."

Seraphina's hands worked on the smaller, more intricate shackles binding Snow's wrists to the bars. These restraints carried additional enchantments, designed not just for suppression but for discomfort. Cruel magic that would have kept the girl's powers locked away while causing constant, low-level pain.

"Bastards," Seraphina muttered under her breath.

The final shackle clicked open. Snow's eyes fluttered, confusion clouding her features before recognition dawned. For a second, she seemed hesitant, but then threw herself into Seraphina's waiting arms, her small body trembling with relief.

"I thought they were going to—" Snow's voice came muffled against Seraphina's shoulder.

"You're safe now," Seraphina said, her tone gentle but firm. "We're here."

Averos was already moving. "The royal guards,” he said. “We need to do something about them.”

"We know," Kaelan replied, deliberately avoiding a glance toward where Daelan lay breathing but motionless. "Noah's group is moving for the king. Uncle Valros is rallying what forces he can."

"I see." His father sighed. "You're coming with me then, son. Valros would be greatly assisted in his task if he also had me rallying them with him."

Kaelan nodded firmly, so Averos turned to address the others. "Seraphina, Valeria—get Snow and my family somewhere safe. Find a defensible position away from the main fighting and hold it."

Snow looked up from Seraphina's embrace, her voice small but determined. "I want to help fight."

"You've done enough." Averos's expression softened as he regarded the young girl. "Surviving when they wanted you dead—that's victory enough. And, I’ll need you to protect my family. Could you do that for me?"

Snow looked up at the two people being carried in Valeria and Seraphina’s hands, and then at Averos. “I can.”

“Good. Thank you.” Averos said, genuinely, before he turned towards Kaelan. “Let’s get moving.”

Kaelan cast one final look toward his fallen brother. Daelan remained conscious but immobilized, his eyes tracking their movements with what might have been regret.

Neither brother spoke.