Shadow Over the Heavenly Throne-Chapter 37: Actually… where the hell is Pharos?

The courtyard was frozen in silence, as if the world itself feared to breathe. Only the wind stirred, tossing dust and ash through the air, carrying the memory of a power that had just erased existence.

Yurei hadn’t moved.

She stood among the crowd of disciples, cloaked in the shadow of a column. No one noticed her. No one saw how her fingers trembled, how she fought the urge to step forward. Her eyes were fixed on a single point.

Rhaegar's head.

It lay there, abandoned on the stones like a discarded object. A trophy. A warning.

Kaen’s words still echoed in her ears. His voice had been like a cold wind on a sweltering afternoon. Alien. Absolute. Irrevocable.

But that wasn’t what had shaken her most.

It was the reaction of the Elders. Of the Sect Master.

Gratitude.

Bow-headed farewells, shameful murmurs, the rot of submission spilled across marble tiles. A man had walked in, thrown them the head of their own disciple—and been seen off with relief.

"Is that all you're capable of?" she thought bitterly.

Her gaze never left Rhaegar's face.

She didn’t approach. Didn’t kneel. Didn’t cry. Her grief held a silence deeper than any scream.

You were always looking backward, weren’t you?

Her thoughts were quiet, but razor-sharp. You never let yourself forget. She had cut you deep. And that wound never healed.

Yurei knew. She knew his heart still burned with fury, that he was a man torn between pride and pain. But that was exactly why...

...why she loved him.

Not for who he was. But for how desperately she had wanted to heal him. For how she saw someone worth saving—even if he never asked for it.

She remembered the night beneath the cherry tree. He hadn’t said a word, but he let her sit beside him. They sat in silence. To others, it was nothing. To her, it was hope.

"Maybe one day... maybe you’ll see me."

But he never did.

In her mind, he still lived. Seen through the heart, he stood tall before her, arm extended, speaking her name with warmth instead of indifference.

That vision shattered in a heartbeat.

Only a lifeless face remained.

There was no body. No blood. Just the head—severed, alone, stripped of everything that had once been life. Lying on the marble like a nameless token of defeat. Eyes open but empty. Lips frozen mid-breath, silenced by death.

Even if you pushed me away, Rhaegar. Even if you could only see me through the lens of her betrayal... I still would have stayed by your side.

The stone beneath her foot trembled. Perhaps from the wind. Perhaps from her. The air thickened around the column, faint cracks running through the marble—soft, but real.

Someone in the crowd whispered:

"That was his fiancée..." Their voice caught, afraid to even echo.

A few disciples glanced her way, then quickly looked away. One Elder held his gaze on her back, then lowered his eyes. He didn’t have the courage to look any longer.

Slowly, Yurei turned to face the elders.

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"Thank you for not killing us" —their posture, their expressions, their words. "Is this all that remains of our pride?"

Her Qi stirred faintly, resonating with the torn emotions inside her. An echo of grief with no release.

Yurei felt something breaking inside her. But it wasn't weakness. It was a boundary, and crossing it meant the old Yurei had just died along with Rhaegar.

***

The mist in the Labyrinth had fallen.

Not as it had before—slowly, thickly, soaked in dread. This time, it vanished abruptly, as if it no longer saw any reason to hide. The earth was still. Too still. The dead corridors stretched before them like the scorched veins of a fallen beast that had finally ceased to struggle.

Calista leaned against a wall, breathing deeply. Not from exhaustion—but because her body still trembled.

"It’s quiet," she said, staring at the charred remnants of battle.

"For the first time, I think I preferred the sound of monsters roaring... at least then we knew where we were." Veynessa stood beside her, voice low. "Now... it feels like the Labyrinth has truly died."

She fell silent for a moment, then whispered:

"I still don’t understand how you kill only the beasts. With a single thought. A single gesture."

They fell silent. There was emptiness in their eyes—but also a question that had lingered in the air for far too long.

Veynessa turned slightly, studying Calista for a heartbeat longer than usual.

"Who are you?..." she asked softly.

Calista clenched her fists.

"I wish I knew how to answer that without hurting you."

Veynessa didn’t respond. She waited.

Calista looked ahead. Her voice, steady, carried the shadow of a long-buried sorrow.

"My mother died giving birth to me. She was... no one. At least, that’s what they said. I was taken in by the royal family as a noble orphan. But that wasn't true."

For a moment, Veynessa couldn't move.

Calista continued:

"My mother was the daughter of the legend in our bloodline. Kaen. But she was born without cultivation roots. She couldn’t practice. Had no strength. Just an ordinary human. And still... she was his daughter."

"So he hid her," Veynessa finished slowly, the pieces falling into place. "To protect her."

Calista nodded.

"He disowned her. Erased her from history. But her existence didn’t vanish. I remained. And aside from Kaen and the former King... no one knows I’m his granddaughter."

Veynessa stepped closer. Her face was still, but her eyes burned with too many emotions to name.

"Why didn’t you ever tell me?"

Calista answered after a pause:

"Because I didn’t want you to see me through his name. I wanted to be your friend. Not the granddaughter of the most powerful man in the world—or as others call him, the monster in human skin."

They fell quiet again. The mist of the Labyrinth had fully receded, leaving the world before them.

Veynessa reached out, placing a hand on Calista’s shoulder.

"You’re not a monster, Calista. You never were." Her voice trembled, not with hesitation, but with emotion. "We’ve been through too much together for me to see you any other way."

She looked her in the eye, serious.

"I don’t care if you’re the granddaughter of the most powerful being alive or the daughter of some merchant in the square. You’re Calista. My friend. And whatever happens next... I’ll be here for you. That’s what friends do."

Calista looked at her, for the first time without the weight on her face. The corners of her mouth lifted gently, as if she could finally breathe without fear, without masks. Her eyes shimmered with emotions she couldn’t quite name—relief, gratitude, maybe even something like peace.

"So what now?"

Veynessa smiled lightly.

"Now? We go home."

Calista rolled her eyes, muttering with playful irritation:

"You know what? I am so done with everything that’s happened over the past few days," she grumbled. "First thing I’m dreaming of is a long, hot bath."

Veynessa chuckled softly.

"If that’s not the wisest thing I’ve heard today, I don’t know what is."

Calista raised a brow, mischief lighting her eyes.

"Maybe bring Sylphie. I feel like teasing that little menace after all this."

Veynessa laughed louder.

"I’m not sure that’ll work. That girl runs off the moment I suggest a bath, and I’m her own mother."

Calista snorted.

"Even better."

They started walking, leaving behind the empty, extinguished corridors of the Labyrinth.

After a moment of silence, Calista asked dryly:

"Actually... where the hell is Pharos? He should’ve been here by now, right?"

Veynessa sighed with amused exasperation.

"If he hasn’t shown up by now, he’s probably sleeping somewhere. In a hammock. With his luck, he’s found himself a quiet beach and is pretending the world has no problems."

Calista arched a brow.

"Yeah... sounds about right for him."