Alters of Broken Stone (LaDS Zayne FanFic)
A short read to explore the toxic relationship between Astra and Zayne.
Content Summary: Astra taunts Zayne after MC leaves with the Creatio Protocore.
Content Warning: blood, wound care, religion, abusive god
The wash cloth had turned the color of sin in this makeshift baptism.
“You know my ire, yet you continue to push your limits.”
Zayne said nothing, running the wet cloth over his bloodstained arms with new marks crossing over old ones. The price Astra required was steep, and Zayne’s debts were heavy.
He submerged the cloth in the basin, red feathering like ink as water sloshed, the sound echoing off the cold stone walls.
“You know it isn’t over.” Curiosity lightened the notes in Astra’s voice. “Why bother washing?”
Zayne clenched his jaw, keeping the reason to himself. He remembered her hands as she cared for his wounds after Astra had lost his temper. She’d whispered apologies, believing it to be her fault. But Astra had used her independence and stubbornness as an excuse. Punishing Zayne scratched a sadistic itch beneath his godly skin.
The whims of a jealous god were dangerous, and Zayne was strong enough to bear them alone. But her hands had been gentle, the cloth she’d used grazing his skin like a lover’s touch. His attempts now were nothing compared to hers, but it was the closest he could come to bringing her back.
“The way you offered the protocore.” Whimsy danced in Astra’s words, and his amusement meant trouble. The ice would likely be barbed next time, armed with the god’s teeth. “I’ve never seen you so vulnerable, Foreseer.”
Zayne sneered, his reflection undulating in the ripples of the wash basin. His softness wasn’t for Astra to revel in. The god of stars and vengeance, of celestial beauty and ugly jealousy, of infinity and greed. The only thing Astra deserved was cold and hollow apathy. Even hatred was too much to offer a god who thrived in attention. Even hatred would be construed as obeisance and worship.
“I knew she would succeed,” Astra said. “She doesn’t strike me as the sort to abandon what she’s set her mind to.” A quiet chuckle echoed in the caverns of Zayne’s mind. “She reminds me of you, in that way.”
“I had to convince her.” Zayne’s voice was gravely and coarse, as though rusted from disuse. “She almost refused to take it.”
“You offered it to her freely?” Zayne could hear the smirk on Astra’s face, even though he knew nothing of the god’s true features. “Even with what it would cost you?”
“You pride yourself in being all-knowing,” Zayne said. “Why ask questions to which you already know the answer?”
“I want to hear you say it.” The amusement was laced with a threat. Frost gathered around Zayne’s throat like a collar. “Tell me, Foreseer.”
“It would have cost her more to refuse.” Zayne tried in vain to shove away the images of how her body would have succumbed to its deadly fate. The protocore was her only chance to live. “What else did I have to lose?”
“What else but her?”
The frost melted, running cold down Zayne’s skin, though the pressure of Astra’s chokehold was slow to fade.
The silence stretched, its heaviness adding to the dread in Zayne’s core. Astra took sick pleasure in dark anticipation, the thrill of someone else’s fear fueling him.
“Her power was what I’ve longed for,” Astra said. “To resonate with such a strong amplifier, to use her body to reach my divinity to the fringes of the cosmos…”
“A god with limits.” Zayne did his best not to appear smug. “I’m honored you trust me to be so vulnerable.”
Zayne had suspected Astra’s intentions, but hearing the god’s confession turned his stomach. The protocore was an opportunity for her to live, but it was Astra’s bait to lure her there in a trap made of ice and lost hope.
The remark cost him. Astra struck with invisible claws, leaving shallow cuts still deep enough to throb and sting. Crimson blood flowed in rivulets as Zayne focused each breath, his chest heaving.
“Such a pity, but no matter,” Astra whispered, his voice closer. Zayne could almost feel the god’s lips against his ear, and he fought the urge to recoil. “At least I still have you.”
The pressure of Astra’s presence retreated, likely satisfied with Zayne’s defeat. But stubbornness kept Zayne standing, which would only provoke Astra to strike again. This momentary reprieve was but a reminder of the control Astra maintained, a fleeting peace that would once more give way to suffering.
Zayne readied the cloth to absorb more blood, but a gentle, sweeping divine hand smoothed the hot, angry lines across his chest, sealing each wound until nothing remained.
“Forgive my temper, Foreseer.” The cat, toying with the mouse, taking sick pleasure in its struggle before the inevitable defeat. “Sometimes, I don’t know what comes over me.”
Astra’s games were predictable. He preferred Zayne whole before enacting each punishment, healing old wounds before creating new ones. But Zayne would endure, pulling Astra’s vengeance upon himself so that she would live in peace. His foresight had shown the sunlight on her face, the trace scent of jasmine filling his senses as her heart continued to beat in the years to come.
No matter what Astra would conjure, even as the chains would grow tighter to bind Zayne to the frozen throne, her happiness dulled the knife-edge of Astra’s punishment.
He would endure. And perhaps, in another lifetime, their paths would cross again. But Zayne couldn’t trust the wishes of a heart long empty, fearful he would compromise his mind’s eye and lose sight of the true future.
So he focused on her smile, on the memory of her laugh, on the phantom touch of her hand in his.
And he would endure.
