Chapter 200: The Bedtime Story

Kane’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly, like a fish gasping for air.

"Gods?" he finally managed. "What do you mean, gods?"

Cyrus’s expression immediately shuttered again. "I’ve already said enough."

"No, absolutely not." Kane shot to his feet, blocking Cyrus’s path to the bedroom.

"You can’t just drop something like that and walk away."

"I can and I will."

"Gods, Cyrus? What gods? Are we talking actual deities or—"

"The conversation is over." Cyrus stepped around Kane, but Kane darted in front of him again.

"I will follow you around this penthouse all night asking questions if I have to." Kane’s amber eyes flashed with determination.

"I’ll narrate everything you do with god-related puns. ’Oh look, Cyrus is brushing his teeth—I guess that’s a divine ritual now.’"

Cyrus pinched the bridge of his nose. "You wouldn’t."

"’And now he’s putting on pajamas. Holy garments for our resident deity expert.’" Kane’s voice took on an insufferably cheerful tone.

"’I wonder if gods need eight hours of sleep or if—’"

"Fine." Cyrus’s crimson energy flared in warning. "You want to know? Sit down and stop being insufferable."

Kane practically bounced onto the couch, victorious.

Cyrus remained standing, his arms crossed as he studied Kane’s expectant face.

The fox’s nine tails swished behind him with barely contained excitement, and Cyrus found himself both exasperated and oddly fond of Kane’s relentless curiosity.

"You’re going to be annoying until you get answers, aren’t you?"

"Absolutely." Kane’s grin was unrepentant.

Cyrus sighed, recognizing the futility of resistance. Kane had proven time and again that his determination was as unstoppable as a force of nature.

Some secrets, Cyrus realized, had expiration dates—and this one was rapidly approaching its end.

"Before I explain anything about gods and crystals," Cyrus said slowly, "I need to know exactly how much you understand about the Night of Falling Stars."

"Well," Kane’s expression sobered instantly.

"It is the spirit realm civil war. Your clan was blamed for unleashing forbidden power that shattered the realm’s core. Reality fractured, cities crumbled, and entire races were wiped out."

"That’s the official version."

"There’s an unofficial version?"

Cyrus’s jaw tightened. "The version where the Black Dragon clan didn’t cause the catastrophe—we tried to prevent it."

Kane’s tails went completely still. "What really happened?"

Cyrus studied Kane’s earnest face, seeing the hunger for truth burning in those amber eyes.

After a long moment, something shifted in his expression—a gentleness Kane rarely witnessed.

"Would you like a bedtime story?"

Kane blinked. "A what?"

"A story. About gods and crystals and realms that once were." Cyrus’s voice carried an odd tenderness. "It’s easier to understand wrapped in familiar words."

"I... I’ve never had bedtime stories before." Kane’s admission came out smaller than intended.

Cyrus’s expression softened further. "Then it’s time you did."

He settled onto the couch beside Kane, close enough that their shoulders touched.

Kane found himself gravitating toward Cyrus’s warmth, his tails curling around them both like a silver blanket.

"Once upon a time," Cyrus began, his deep voice taking on the cadence of ancient storytelling, "there were beings of such immense power that reality bent around their very existence. These weren’t spirits or mortals but architects of creation itself."

Kane’s eyes widened, but he remained silent.

"These gods grew weary of their endless existence. So they chose to pour their essence, their very souls, into a single crystal. It was their final breath made manifest, beautiful and terrible beyond imagination."

Cyrus’s fingers found Kane’s, intertwining gently.

"The crystal held such power that it could reshape worlds, command all beings, and even bring the dead back to life.

But the gods knew no mortal heart could resist its call forever. So they shattered it into five pieces and scattered them across a new realm—a paradise built on divine sacrifice."

Kane leaned closer, captivated despite himself.

"The five crystal hearts," Cyrus continued, his voice taking on a reverent tone, "were massive things—each one the size of a cathedral’s altar. They served as the anchor for the realm.

Kane’s breath caught as Cyrus traced patterns on his palm.

"The Beating Heart was given to my clan, the Black Dragons. It held the raw power of creation itself, the divine fury that could birth stars or destroy them." Cyrus’s eyes grew distant.

"The Azure Dragons guarded the Sacred Heart, which maintained the barriers between all dimensions.

The Jade Dragons protected the Still Heart, governing time’s flow and the spaces between moments."

"What about the other two?" Kane whispered.

"The Golden Dragons kept the Healing Heart safe—it nurtured all life, from the smallest spirit mouse to the mightiest phoenix.

And the Silver Dragons..." Cyrus paused, his gaze finding Kane’s amber eyes. "They guarded the Hearing Heart, which allowed all beings to understand one another across species and realms."

Kane’s tails shimmered with recognition. "My family’s color was silver."

"Yes." Cyrus’s thumb brushed across Kane’s knuckles. "Each clan was chosen for their natural resonance with their Heart’s power. We weren’t just guardians—we were living extensions of divine will."

Kane’s mind raced, connecting the pieces with startling clarity.

"The shards," he breathed. "The Whispering Shard, the Screaming Shard, the Singing Shard—they’re fragments of those Hearts, aren’t they?"

Cyrus didn’t deny it, but his expression grew heavier.

"Tiny fragments," he confirmed. "When the Hearts shattered during the realm’s collapse, they broke into countless pieces. Some no bigger than pebbles, others large enough to power entire cities."

"That’s why Elias wanted them." Kane’s tails bristled with understanding. "He’s trying to collect enough fragments to—"

"To attempt what our ancestors died preventing." Cyrus’s voice carried centuries of grief.

"But the fragments aren’t pure anymore. Centuries of separation have altered them and corrupted some of their original purposes.

The Screaming Shard you encountered was meant to facilitate communication, but isolation twisted it into something that amplifies fear and pain."

Kane shuddered, remembering the agony when Elias had injected him with its essence.

"Some fragments retain their original nature," Cyrus continued. "Others have become unrecognizable. The smaller they are, the more unstable they tend to be."

Kane leaned forward, his amber eyes intense.

"But what happened next? How did the Hearts get shattered in the first place? You said the Black Dragons tried to prevent it—prevent what exactly?"