All Chapters of Blood Ties And Silk Chains: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

The roar of collapsing stone was still shaking the world when Varian’s legs gave out.“Varian!” Liora lunged, grabbing him beneath the arms as the floor cracked under them. Dust and fire poured from the trembling ceiling. The Cathedral’s understructure—what was left of it—was caving in.He sagged against her, half-conscious, breath ragged. “Just… give me a second.”“No,” Liora snapped. “No seconds. Move.”She heaved him upward. He tried to stand on his own; his knees buckled instantly.“Liora—”“Shut up and walk.”He didn’t argue again.Behind them, Bram shouted through the smoke, “Found the cores! Found two— only two!” His voice was strained, panicked. “We gotta go before this entire place makes us pancakes!”Ines stumbled beside him, clutching a scorched metal cylinder. “They’re hot—Ciro, don’t let me drop this! Oh gods—ow—okay, I’m fine—probably.”Ciro grabbed the second core, face tight. “Stop talking and move!”Liora dragged Varian toward the exit tunnel that was rapidly filling

The Council chamber had never been quiet like this.Not during coups. Not during bombings. Not during the night Edda Rune’s name first froze the city’s blood.Every seat was filled. Councilors shoulder to shoulder. Security lining the walls. Cameras hovering like insects. Outside, the plaza roared—chants muffled by stone but unmistakable.Liora stood alone at the center dais.No entourage. No weapons. No crown.Varian watched from the gallery above, half-hidden behind reinforced glass, arms folded, jaw tight. Bram flanked him, scanning exits. Ines whispered into a comm bead, feeding real-time sentiment analysis.“Crowd’s holding,” Ines murmured. “Angry but listening.”Varian didn’t look away from Liora. “She always gives them a reason to.”The Speaker of the Council cleared his throat. “Ms. Sable. You have the floor.”Liora stepped forward.Her voice carried without effort.“We won’t rule,” she said.A ripple moved through the chamber. Councilors exchanged looks. Outside, the crow

“Is the world safe now?”Wren asked it over breakfast, spoon paused midair, milk threatening to spill. The question landed softly and still managed to stop the room.Liora didn’t answer right away.Varian watched her, breath held—not because he feared the answer, but because he respected it.Liora finally said, “Safer. Not just safe.”Wren considered that, brows pinched in a way that was entirely Varian’s. “Why not safe?”“Because people are people,” Liora replied gently. “And people make choices. Some good. Some… not.”Varian added, carefully, “But now there are more people choosing to protect than to hurt.”Wren nodded solemnly. “Like you.”“Like us,” Liora corrected, smiling.Wren grinned. “I like ‘us.’”She finished her cereal, hopped down, and ran off to find Miss Pei, leaving behind a silence that felt earned.Varian exhaled. “She asks better questions than half the council.”Liora leaned back against the counter. “She always has.”He studied her for a moment. “You didn’t lie.”

The city didn’t celebrate. It paused.Traffic slowed without instruction. Markets opened late. Sirens didn’t vanish, but they softened—less frantic, less constant. People stood on balconies longer than usual, phones forgotten in their hands, eyes searching the skyline as if expecting smoke that never came.It was the quiet after impact.Liora watched it from the council annex windows, arms folded, coffee untouched.“They’re waiting,” she said.Varian leaned against the wall beside her, jacket open, no visible weapons. “For what?”“For us to blink,” she replied. “For something to explode. For the other shoe.”He huffed softly. “Fair.”Bram’s voice crackled through the speaker on the table. “District feeds are steady. No riots. No counterstrikes. Which makes me nervous.”“Of course it does,” Liora said. “Peace always does.”Ines tapped at her tablet. “Digital chatter’s wild. Half the city thinks Edda’s ghost is coming back. The other half thinks you two staged the apocalypse for power.”

“Don’t let go yet,” Wren called, running toward the riverbank, the kite jerking and dipping as the wind argued with her grip.“I’m not letting go,” Varian said, voice calm, steady, like he could will the sky into compliance. “You steer. I’ll hold.”“That’s cheating,” Wren shot back. “You’re supposed to let me fly it.”“You are flying it,” Liora said. “He’s just… negotiating with gravity.”Varian smirked. “I’m very persuasive.”The kite snapped once, red fabric flashing, then caught a clean vein of wind and lifted. Wren whooped, the sound cutting through the low hush of the river traffic. The water carried its own conversations today—boats murmuring, gulls complaining, the city exhaling.Liora watched from the embankment, arms folded, eyes tracking the red shape as it rose. Varian’s hand found hers without ceremony. No pause. No question. Just contact.“Same color,” he said quietly.She nodded. “Same stubbornness.”“Different ending,” he said.She glanced at him. “You don’t know that.”