Ancestral Lineage - Chapter 285

Chapter 285: So, You Are a Virgin?
Zark stood still, hands lowered, his stance non-threatening. He let her anger crash against him like a tide against stone, absorbing her pain with a silence that was neither arrogant nor weak—just… patient.

Madeleine’s breath came in short bursts. Her fists clenched, her arms trembling. Her aura pulsed violently, then flickered, breaking like glass before vanishing entirely. Her knees buckled.

Zark stepped forward instinctively.

“Don’t touch me!” she rasped, voice cracking.

“I wasn’t going to,” he said softly. “I just didn’t want to see you fall.”

She fell anyway—onto her knees, then her hands, her red hair spilling over her face like a curtain as silent sobs shook her shoulders.

“I hate this…” she whispered. “I hate this so much…”

Zark didn’t respond. He simply lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the floor, a few feet away, waiting.

She lifted her tear-streaked face to him, eyes blazing with fury and grief. “Do you know what it feels like? To beg the stars, the gods, the void—anything—for a father for your sons? And then Fate gives you to them? A stranger. A weapon. A being so far above us, he might as well be the sky?!”

Zark looked at her for a long, quiet moment before answering.

“Yes.”

That one word brought silence crashing down between them.

“Yes,” he said again. “Because I begged, too.”

She blinked, stunned.

“I begged for meaning,” Zark continued, his voice hollow, distant. “For a reason to exist beyond being an unstoppable force. I’ve seen stars die screaming. Watched empires crumble beneath the weight of their own greatness. I’ve destroyed gods by accident, Madeleine. Accident. Do you know what that does to a person?”

She stared at him, her rage slowly fading.

“I didn’t ask for your sons,” Zark said quietly, looking at his palms. “But the moment I saw them, I felt it. That bond. I can’t explain it—not even with all my knowledge. But it’s there. It’s real. I feel it in my bones, like I’ve known them across lifetimes.”

“And yet,” she whispered, her voice shaking, “you didn’t even try to talk to me. You acted like I didn’t matter.”

Zark’s head bowed. “Because I thought you hated me. I saw the way you looked at me that day. I saw the pain, and I thought… maybe staying away was kinder.”

“It wasn’t,” she whispered.

“I know that now.”

Madeleine closed her eyes and exhaled. The storm inside her had settled. Not gone—but paused.

“I loved their father once,” she murmured. “Ethan and Trevor’s real father. He abandoned Ethan before he could even walk. Worshipped Trevor like a trophy. He broke us. Broke me.”

Zark nodded. “I know. I saw it in their memories.”

“Then why did Fate choose you?” she asked bitterly.

He was quiet.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “Maybe because I’m nothing like him. Maybe because Fate is cruel. Or maybe… maybe because your boys are meant for something so vast, so dangerous, that they needed someone like me in their lives.”

A pause. Then:

“I don’t want to replace him. I’m not here to steal your place. Or theirs. I just want to be here. Whatever that means. Even if it’s from afar.”

Silence settled again.

Then, almost too softly to hear, Madeleine said:

“You remind me of Ethan.”

Zark blinked.

“The way you speak. The weight in your eyes. You carry too much and pretend you’re fine.”

He looked away, a slow, sad smile forming on his lips.

“I suppose I do.”

She wiped her eyes and stood slowly. Her legs wobbled, and this time, she didn’t stop him when he reached out to steady her.

“I still don’t trust you,” she said quietly.

“I wouldn’t either,” he replied gently.

“But,” she said, drawing in a breath, “I think… I don’t want you to leave.”

Zark looked up at her. “Really?”

“No promises. No bonding. No sudden declarations. Just…” She looked away, arms crossed. “Just don’t vanish. They’ve had enough of that.”

Zark stood beside her, still careful not to close the distance unless she allowed it.

“I won’t vanish.”

Another long pause.

And then, softly, Madeleine murmured:

“…Thank you.”

Madeleine sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers loosely clutching a pillow. The tear stains had dried, and though her eyes were still red, they held a quieter storm now.

Zark remained standing for a while before lowering himself to sit on the floor again, his back against the wall across from her. It felt… human. Comfortably so.

“You said you’ve begged before,” she began, voice hoarse. “Begged for meaning. For what?”

Zark tilted his head back, eyes scanning the ceiling like it might hold the answer. “For something to hold on to. Something that didn’t disappear.”

She looked at him.

He continued, “Since I was created—yes, not born, created—I’ve moved from war to war, world to world. Always sent, never asked. Always alone, even when surrounded.”

Madeleine didn’t speak, sensing he needed the silence to continue.

“I don’t remember being young,” he admitted. “I don’t even think I ever was. One day I opened my eyes, and I was. Fully formed. Fully aware. Fully weaponized.”

He let out a quiet laugh, almost bitter. “A perfect tool. The Golden Emissary. The Final Solution. The Unyielding Blade. So many titles, none of them mine. Just what they called me.”

“You speak like you’re centuries old.”

“Try millennia,” he replied softly. “I’ve seen stars born and die. Loved entire civilizations only to watch them burn, because someone deemed them unworthy. And I? I carried out the order.”

“You followed those commands?” Madeleine asked, a flicker of old fire in her tone.

“At first,” he said. “Then… I didn’t. I started choosing not to obey. That’s when they turned on me.”

“They?”

“The ones who made me. The ones who thought they could cage purpose in a body.”

She leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “And what happened?”

“I burned them to ash,” Zark said. “Not out of revenge, but necessity. I couldn’t be their weapon anymore. I didn’t want to be anyone’s tool.”

“Then what did you want to be?” she asked.

He was silent.

Then, in a voice barely audible: “I don’t know.”

Madeleine was taken aback. For someone as vast and powerful as him, that answer was raw.

“I’ve never had time to figure it out,” Zark went on. “Everywhere I went, people saw the power, the danger, the glory. They made me a symbol, a protector, a god. But no one ever asked me who I was. And I… I’ve never been with a moment long enough to even ask myself.”

Her chest tightened. “You’ve never just… existed?”

He shook his head slowly. “Not once.”

Madeleine looked at him—really looked at him—and saw past the luminous gold eyes, past the cosmic presence he carried in every breath. What sat across from her wasn’t just a celestial being or some unfathomable entity.

It was a man. One who’d never been allowed to be anything but a myth.

“That’s lonely,” she whispered.

He met her eyes. “It is. Then I met him, Ethan’s Ancestor, and the rest is history.”

The silence returned, but this time it was comforting, shared.

Madeleine spoke again, gentler now. “You know… you don’t have to run anymore. Not from this place. Not from them. Not from me.”

Zark smiled faintly, a small curve of warmth. “I don’t think I want to.”

A long pause.

Madeleine leaned back, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

“You’re not what I expected.”

“Good or bad?”

“Neither,” she said. “You’re just… something real. And right now, that’s more than enough.”

Zark exhaled, long and slow.

For the first time since his creation, he let himself lean his head back, close his eyes, and simply exist.

“So… you’re a virgin?” Madeleine asked suddenly, her voice tinged with dry amusement and a mischievous glint cutting through the fog of their earlier heaviness.

Zark blinked, momentarily thrown. His golden eyes darted toward her, then away, as if recalculating whether this was a trap.

“Well…” he murmured, scratching the back of his head, an awkwardness overtaking his usually regal composure. “Technically speaking, yes.”

She laughed—a soft, genuine sound that warmed the room. “Seriously?”

He shrugged, the corners of his lips twitching in a sheepish smile. “I told you. I’ve never stayed in one place. Never had time. Relationships? Touch? Intimacy?” He gave a short huff. “Luxury items.”

Madeleine arched an eyebrow. “You’ve lived thousands of years, look like a walking fantasy, and no one’s ever…?”

“Oh, people have offered,” Zark said quickly, holding up a finger. “Believe me, the opportunities were there.”

“Then why—?”

“I didn’t want something temporary,” he interrupted, quieter this time. “It would’ve been just another fleeting moment. Another face I’d forget in a hundred years.”

She stared at him, her expression unreadable now. “So you waited.”

“I guess I did.” His gaze met hers. “Not even sure what I was waiting for.”

The room fell quiet again, but this silence was softer than the last—warmed by something unspoken.

“You’re unbelievable,” Madeleine said at last, a strange blend of exasperation and admiration in her tone.

“Why, thank you,” Zark replied with mock gravity, placing a hand over his chest. “I aim to astonish.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “You’re just… not what I thought you’d be.”

Zark tilted his head, studying her. “Neither are you.”

Their eyes lingered on each other a moment too long, the air between them charged not with godhood or grief, but something simple… human.

Then came a knock at the door—loud, urgent.

“Mother? Zark?” It was Trevor’s voice.

They didn’t move right away. Just stared at the door, then back at each other.

Zark smirked. “Saved by the son.”

“Get up,” Madeleine said, trying not to laugh as she stood and straightened her shirt. “We’re not done talking.”

“No,” Zark said, rising to his feet, his eyes gentler than before. “We’re just getting started.”