Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 179: Promises, promises

”Matriarch Indriyani, why am I here? What do you actually want?”

Indriyani smiled, and it carried a calculation that made even Madayanti’s political maneuvering seem straightforward by comparison.

”I want to make you an offer,” she said simply.

”The Daitvitas clan is strong, ancient, and strategically positioned in ways that make us nearly impossible to attack. But we’re small in numbers, deliberately so, and that smallness is becoming a liability as the Empire expands.”

She moved closer again, and this time Jorghan held his ground, refusing to retreat further.

”The Sol’vur bloodline is powerful, but you are only one. Your clan people are dead. You’re rebuilding from nearly nothing, which gives you flexibility but also vulnerability.”

Her pale eyes held his crimson ones without flinching.

”So here’s my proposal: breed with me. Create heirs that carry both bloodlines. The Daitvitas’ strategic mind combined with the Sol’vur combat capabilities. The result would be offspring positioned to dominate Council politics for the next several centuries.”

”Even the realm itself.”

Jorghan blinked, momentarily thrown by the directness of the proposition.

”You’re propositioning me for children based on genetic calculation and political advantage.”

”Yes,” Indriyani confirmed without hesitation.

”Is there a better basis? Love is transient, physical attraction fades, but genetic legacy and political power endure. I’m offering you a partnership that would secure your clan’s future while strengthening mine.

Our children would be extraordinary.”

She stepped even closer, her voice dropping to something more intimate despite the transactional nature of her words.

”I’m not asking for marriage, not demanding exclusivity, not even requiring emotional attachment beyond mutual respect. Just an agreement to produce heirs together, to combine our strengths in the most direct way possible.”

Her hand moved to rest on his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the formal robes.

”Your father was magnificent but ultimately tragic. You could be magnificent and triumphant instead. All you need is someone willing to guide that power toward productive ends rather than destructive ones.”

Jorghan looked at her, this striking woman with her unusual beauty and her cold calculations, and tried to process an offer that was simultaneously flattering and deeply unsettling.

”I need to think about this,” he said finally.

”This isn’t a decision I can make in a moment, no matter how direct your proposition.”

Indriyani smiled, seemingly pleased rather than disappointed by his hesitation.

”Good. If you’d agreed immediately, I’d have been concerned about your judgment. Take your time, consider the advantages, and discuss it with Sigora if you wish. But understand, this offer has an expiration.

The longer you wait, the more options I’ll be considering with other bloodlines.”

She stepped back, her demeanor shifting from intimate proposition to formal matriarch with practiced ease.

”Now, shall we leave? I’m sure your aunt must be worried.”

Jorghan nodded, his mind racing with implications, and followed her back toward the Grand Hall.

Behind them, the waterfall continued its eternal flow, indifferent to the political and biological calculations of those who stood in its shadow.

The feast awaited, along with all its complications.

And Jorghan was beginning to understand that navigating Council politics might be more challenging than any battlefield he’d ever faced.

-

The quarters were quiet when Jorghan and Sigora finally retreated from the feast.

Now, in the privacy of Sigora’s chambers, the noise of Dewura’tt felt distant, muffled by stone walls and the eternal rush of the waterfall.

Jorghan stood by the window, looking out over the city illuminated by magical lights that mimicked starlight. His mind was still processing everything, the Council recognition, Indriyani’s proposition.

”You’re thinking too loud,” Sigora said from where she sat on the bed’s edge, removing the elaborate jewelry she’d worn for the feast.

”I can practically hear the gears turning from here.”

Jorghan turned, a slight smile touching his lips.

”Just processing. Today was more complicated than fighting an army.”

”Politics usually is.”

She set aside the last bracelet and looked at him with warmth that went beyond physical attraction.

”But you handled it well. Better than your father would have.”

”That’s a low bar,” Jorghan replied, moving to sit beside her. He was quiet for a moment, then said, ”I’ve decided something. I need to build a home for the clan. An actual home, not just borrowed quarters in someone else’s settlement.”

”You want home for the Sol’vur clan?”

Sigora’s expression shifted to surprise mixed with pleasure.

”You’re ready to establish a permanent base?”

”The Sol’vur can’t just be me and scattered allies. If we’re officially recognized, if we’re truly restored, then we need a place. Somewhere that’s ours, that represents what we’re building.”

His crimson eyes met hers.

”A place where people can come and know they belong to something real.”

Sigora’s hand found his, squeezing gently. Her voice carried emotion she didn’t bother hiding. ”The Colloniel ruins, in the northern territories. That’s where the clan lived before the betrayal, where the Sol’vur were at their strongest.”

Jorghan’s eyebrows rose.

”Ruins? What happened to it?”

”After Ser’gu killed the three clans and was cast out, the settlement was abandoned. No one wanted to live there, some said it was cursed, others just couldn’t bear the memories. The buildings are still standing, the infrastructure mostly intact.

It’s been empty for decades, waiting.”

She shifted to face him more fully, her eight-foot frame still managing to curl into his smaller form. ”If you rebuild there, you’re not just creating something new. You’re reclaiming what was stolen, honoring your father’s memory while moving beyond his mistakes.

It’s perfect.”

”Would you come with me?” Jorghan asked quietly.

”Help me build it? I know you have responsibilities to the Nor’vack, your own clan to lead, but—”

”Of course I’ll come,” Sigora interrupted, her voice firm.

”The clan will survive with Swana and Sik’ra managing in my absence. They’re ready for more responsibility anyway. But you?”

She cupped his face with one large hand.

”You’re building something that could change the entire political structure of the clans. I’m not missing that. And I’m not leaving you to navigate it alone.”

Relief flooded through Jorghan, more profound than he’d expected. Having Sigora there, her experience and wisdom backing his decisions, made the entire prospect feel possible rather than overwhelming.

”We’ll do it right,” he said, his voice carrying quiet determination.

”Not just rebuild the old structures, but create something better.”

”Your father would be proud,” Sigora said softly.

”He wanted that too, in his own way. He just didn’t know how to achieve it.”

They sat together in comfortable silence, the weight of the day settling into something manageable now that they’d shared it. Outside, Dewura’tt continued its eternal existence, built on the edge of nothing, sustained by ancient engineering and collective will.

Eventually, Sigora stood, pulling Jorghan to his feet with easy strength.

”Come. We have tomorrow’s Council session to survive first, and then the real work begins. But tonight...”

Her smile became something warmer, more intimate.

”Tonight is ours.”

She pulled him toward the bed, and political concerns faded into the background. They had this moment, this connection, this promise of building something together.

The romance between them had moved past tentative exploration into something deeper, more certain. They knew each other’s bodies now, the height difference that could have been awkward instead becoming familiar, comfortable, and even enjoyable in its uniqueness.

Sigora’s strength didn’t overwhelm; it complemented.

Jorghan’s control didn’t limit; it guided. They moved together with the understanding of partners who’d learned to communicate beyond words.

When they finally settled into sleep, tangled together despite the size disparity, both carried contentment that went beyond physical satisfaction. They’d found something rare—a partnership that balanced power with vulnerability, passion with purpose, and individual strength with shared vision.

Tomorrow would bring more complications, more politics, and more decisions that could reshape clan dynamics for generations.

But tonight, they simply held each other and planned a future worth fighting for.

-

Dawn came too quickly, golden light streaming through the window to illuminate the quarters they’d shared.

Jorghan woke first, his internal clock attuned to early rising despite the late night. He lay still for a moment, watching Sigora sleep, her face relaxed in ways she rarely allowed when awake.

She took up most of the bed. Her hair spread across the pillows like a copper waterfall, one arm thrown over him with casual possession. She was beautiful in that unguarded moment, powerful even in rest.

He carefully extracted himself without waking her and moved to prepare for the day. The Council would reconvene at dawn, and arriving late would send the wrong message about Sol’vur’s reliability.

By the time he’d washed and begun dressing in fresh formal robes, Sigora had stirred. She watched him with sleepy contentment for a moment before sitting up, the blankets pooling around her waist.

”Morning already?” she asked, her voice carrying the roughness of recent sleep.

”Unfortunately. Council waits for no one, apparently.”

Sigora stretched, her movements catlike, then rose to begin her own preparations. They moved around each other with practiced ease, comfortable in shared space, occasionally touching in passing—his hand on her back, her fingers in his hair—small gestures of affection that needed no words.