Tower of Thorns Tower of Fangs Volume 5 Chapter 33 The Tower of Tears

 

Chapter 33  The Tower of Tears

Moon should have died. The stake had pierced his heart. The betrayal had shattered his soul. The blood loss alone should have ended everything. Yet Moon still breathed. Barely. Weakly. Like a candle moments from extinction. The Blood Wraith carried him through the forest. Through snow. Through darkness. Through grief. The black-clad figure moved without rest. Without hesitation. Without purpose beyond one simple truth. Moon must live. Nothing else mattered. Not kingdoms. Not gods. Not immortality. Only Moon. 

The forest stretched endlessly. Ancient trees towered overhead. The snowstorm raged behind them. Everfrost was growing. Expanding. The birth cry of the White King. But far from the frozen kingdom Another tragedy wandered alone. Johannes. The chosen boy whose touch brought decay. The boy who no longer wished to fight. The boy who had accidentally harmed those he cared about. Johannes walked through the wilderness in silence.

His eyes were hollow. His hands remained hidden. Because everything they touched died. Flowers. Animals. Even people. The power terrified him. The loneliness terrified him more. The young man wandered without direction. Without purpose. Without hope. Until he found the roses. Roses should not have grown there. Not in the wilderness. Not among snow. Not in a battlefield. Yet hundreds bloomed. Thousands. Crimson petals. Silver petals. Endless roses. Their thorned vines twisted across the meadow. Protecting something. Guarding something. Johannes approached slowly. Curiously. The flowers parted. Not from fear. Recognition. As though they knew him. As though they understood sorrow. And there At the center of the rose garden Moon lay sleeping. The Blood Wraith knelt beside him. Silent. Watchful. Devoted. The sight stole Johannes' breath. Moon looked unreal. Beautiful. Fragile. Like a prince trapped inside a fairy tale. White robes stained with silver-red blood. Long black hair spread across the flowers. Pale skin glowing softly. A sleeping beauty guarded by thorns. And protruding from his chest The wooden stake. Johannes immediately understood. The weapon remained lodged inside Moon's heart. The source of the wound. The source of the suffering. The source of everything.

The Blood Wraith looked toward him. Blue eyes. Ancient sorrow. Neither spoke. Words felt unnecessary. Johannes slowly knelt. The roses did not stop him. The Blood Wraith did not stop him. Moon remained unconscious. Breathing weakly. Barely. Johannes reached toward the stake. His hand trembled. Because his power only destroyed. His power only ruined things. His power never healed. Never saved. Never helped. Yet for the first time He wanted to try. Slowly. Carefully. He wrapped his fingers around the wood. And pulled. The stake slid free. Silver-red blood erupted from the wound. Moon gasped. Coughed violently. His body arched. And a spray of blood struck Johannes directly across the face. Across his lips. Across his eyes. Into his mouth. The world exploded. Silver light. Red light. Moonlight. Dreams. Memories. Love. Pain. Johannes screamed. His power reacted instantly. Decay erupted from his body. Black mist exploded across the forest. Trees withered. Grass died. Flowers blackened. The earth itself seemed to rot. Yet something else happened. Something impossible. Moon's blood entered him. Divine blood. The blood of a future Moon God. The blood of a celestial beloved by countless beings. And Johannes changed. The decay did not vanish. It evolved. Darkness swirled around him. The mist became heavier. Stronger. Alive. The corruption obeyed him now. Not perfectly. But enough. Johannes fell to his knees. Tears streamed down his face. Because he could feel Moon's sorrow. The betrayal. The heartbreak. The loneliness. The love. All of it. For a brief moment Johannes understood. And that understanding changed him forever. The future Dark King had been born. Moon slowly opened his eyes. Weak. Confused. Alive. The celestial looked toward Johannes. Then toward the Blood Wraith. Then toward the ruined forest. Moon said nothing. His eyes already carried enough sadness. Johannes could not bear it. Not after everything. Not after seeing what love had done. Not after feeling Moon's pain. He stood. Wiped his eyes. And made a decision. A simple decision. If Moon could not return to the world Then the world would come to Moon. Johannes raised his hands. Decay answered. Darkness answered. Stone answered. The earth trembled. The forest shook. Mountains groaned. Roots split apart. And from the ground A tower rose. Black stone. Twisted spires. Countless thorns. Sharp enough to pierce the heavens. The structure climbed endlessly upward. A monument to sorrow. A monument to grief. A monument to the sleeping celestial inside. The Tower of Tears.

Its highest chamber overlooked endless forests. Its gardens bloomed with impossible flowers. Its walls protected Moon from the world. Protected him from hunters. Protected him from kings. Protected him from destiny. For a little while. 

When the tower was complete, Johannes returned to Moon. The celestial was still weak. Still pale. Still trembling from the wound that should have killed him. Moon tried to stand. His legs failed immediately. Johannes caught him before he could fall. For a moment neither spoke. Moon looked up at him. Those dark eyes carried exhaustion deeper than sleep. Deeper than grief. Johannes felt his chest tighten. No one should have suffered so much. No one. Without a word, Johannes carefully lifted Moon into his arms. Like a bride. One arm beneath his knees. The other supporting his back. Moon was frighteningly light. Far too light. As though sorrow itself had hollowed him out. His long black hair spilled over Johannes's arm like liquid midnight. The white robes draped softly around him. Moon blinked in surprise. But he was too exhausted to protest. Too tired to resist. Too tired to care. 

Johannes carried him toward the tower. Slowly. Carefully. As though carrying something sacred. The Blood Wraith followed behind them. Silent as ever. The great doors opened on their own. Black stone parted. The Tower of Tears welcomed its first resident. Johannes crossed the threshold carrying Moon in his arms. Like a knight returning with a wounded prince. Like a guardian protecting the last star in the sky. Like a lonely boy trying desperately to save someone he could not bear to lose. 

The halls stretched endlessly around them. Dark stone. Silver roses. Moonlight pouring through towering windows. Beautiful. Melancholic. Lonely. A reflection of its creator. Johannes climbed the winding stairs. Step by step. Never once loosening his hold. Never once allowing Moon to stumble. At last they reached the highest chamber. The room overlooked all of Elyria. Forests. Mountains. Rivers. Kingdoms yet to be born.

Johannes gently lowered Moon onto a bed woven from silver vines and moonlit flowers. The celestial sank into the cushions. Exhausted. Safe. For the first time since the betrayal. For the first time since the stake pierced his heart. For the first time in what felt like forever. Moon closed his eyes. And rested. Johannes remained beside him. Watching. Guarding. As though afraid Moon might disappear if left alone.

Johannes looked upon the tower. And understood that he would never leave. Not truly. This place would become his kingdom. His prison. His sanctuary. His curse. The future Tower of Tears. The future Tower of Fangs. The future home where centuries later

A blond boy named Toivo would arrive. And fall in love with the same moonlit god. Without ever realizing that the tower itself had been built from heartbreak. Built from betrayal. Built by a lonely young man who once saved Moon's life.   And carried him like a bride into the tower's heart. And as the first moon rose above the black spires The Dark King watched over the sleeping celestial.

While deep within the tower Moon dreamed. Of blue eyes. Of summer. And of a boy who had broken his heart.