Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 229: The ruins of Sol’vur

Sashrutiena of the Dhra’ckin clan presented a contrast. She was slightly shorter at seven foot nine, with black skin. Her features were delicate, but her bearing was confident, and her silver hair fell loose to her shoulders in a style that was practical for travel. She wore robes that seemed to shimmer between solid fabric and flowing water, and her violet eyes studied Jorghan with curiosity that lacked the calculation he’d seen in so many political encounters.

Both women approached him with the formal courtesy appropriate to the situation, but Jorghan noticed warmth in their expressions that suggested this was more than just duty.

”Lord Sol’vur,” Narmishina greeted, her voice carrying the melodic quality many elven women possessed but with an underlying strength that marked her as a warrior.

”Thank you for inviting us on this journey. It’s... unconventional, but appreciated.”

”Jorghan is fine when we’re not in formal settings,” he replied.

”If we’re going to potentially spend centuries together, we should probably start with actual names rather than titles.”

Sashrutiena smiled, the expression lighting up her face.

”Then I’m Sash. Only my enemies and people trying to impress me use my full name. Friends use the shorter version.”

”And I prefer Nami,” Narmishina added.

”Narmishina is what my mother called me when I was in trouble. Let’s not start our relationship with that association.”

Jorghan found himself smiling despite his nervousness about this entire situation.

”Nami and Sash it is. Shall we go see what we’re actually planning to build our lives around?”

They boarded the carriage, settling into seats designed for comfort during extended travel. Jorghan, Nami, and Sash arranged themselves in the main compartment, where conversation would be easy.

Kaleth launched himself skyward with powerful wingbeats, the carriage rising smoothly as the Swarafa gained altitude. Brownhill Dunes fell away below them, the settlements becoming small clusters of structures, the river a silver ribbon cutting through golden sand.

The journey had begun.

*

The flight to the Colloniel Ruins took three days with stops each evening to camp and give Kaleth time to rest. The journey became an opportunity for conversation that ranged from practical clan matters to personal histories to surprisingly philosophical discussions about what they were all attempting to build.

Nami proved to be direct and honest in ways Jorghan appreciated. She’d been clan matriarch for two centuries after her predecessor died in an Empire raid. She’d kept the Ma’zenti alive through increasingly desperate circumstances, watching their population decline.

She’d approached marriage to Jorghan not out of desperation but strategic calculation that this was the best path to ensure her people’s survival.

”I won’t pretend I fell in love with you at first sight,” she said on the second evening as they sat around the campfire.

”I don’t know you well enough for that. But I respect what you’re building, and I believe I could grow to love you given time and genuine effort from both of us. That’s more honest than most arranged marriages start with.”

Sash was more reserved but no less genuine. She’d become the Dhra’ckin matriarch only fifty years ago after a clan dispute left the previous leadership dead. She’d spent those decades trying to rebuild from near-destruction, teaching her people that survival required adaptation rather than clinging to traditions that no longer served them. Her interest in marrying Jorghan came partly from practical necessity but also from genuine curiosity about someone who seemed to actually care about building something sustainable rather than just accumulating power.

”I watched you at the Council,” she admitted on the third night.

”Not just the public sessions, but how you interacted with people between meetings. You were calculating, yes, but you also listened. Actually listened when people spoke rather than just waiting for your turn to talk. That’s rare in powerful individuals. It made me think you might actually be worth the risk of permanent partnership.”

He smiled, seeing that two ladies were calculating when they said they wanted a genuine love.

Nonetheless, he indulged them.

Jorghan found himself opening up more than he’d expected. He talked about his father’s mistakes, about being raised by Sigora, about the weight of restoring a destroyed clan while knowing he had to avoid repeating the errors that led to its destruction.

He admitted his concerns about treating family as strategic assets, about whether he was capable of genuine emotional connection while also serving clan necessities.

”I don’t know if I can love you the way you want,” he confessed on the final night before reaching Colloniel.

”My past carved me into something most beings wouldn’t understand. I grow cold without meaning to, distant even from those I love, and family has always been a wound that never healed.”

”I don’t know if I even understand what that means beyond physical attraction and strategic respect. But I want to try. I want our children to grow up in families that feel real rather than just functional. I just don’t know how to build that.”

”None of us do,” Nami replied.

”Marriage is a big responsibility. You’re committing to someone, hoping you can build something meaningful, knowing you might fail. But the alternative is staying alone or accepting casual arrangements that never develop depth. I’d rather risk failure attempting something real than guarantee mediocrity through lack of effort.”

By the time they approached Colloniel on the fourth day, Jorghan felt like he actually knew these women. Not completely; that would take years.

But enough to believe that building marriages with them might work.

That the risk was worth taking.

*

The ruins appeared on the horizon as Kaleth began descending, a massive structure that dominated the landscape for miles around. What had once been a thriving settlement now stood as a testament to abandonment and decay, but the bones of greatness remained visible beneath the damage.

The central structure was enormous, a half-sphere that might have housed thousands at its peak. But it was broken now, entire sections collapsed, the dome’s curve interrupted by gaps where structural failures had occurred. Time and weather had worn what remained, but the engineering was still impressive. This had been built to last for millennia, and even in ruins, it commanded respect.