The battlefield smelled of iron, smoke, and rot. Even as the ghouls' corpses were gathered and burned to prevent their regeneration, the ground was scarred with fire, wind, and blood. But silence finally spread across the ruined plain.
Lucian issued his orders with the cold efficiency of a general who had lived through too many wars. His coat was torn and smeared with gore, but his voice carried unshaken authority. "Take the corpses to the pyres. Any remains of Li Anya, burn them separately. I don't want her spirit finding a way back."
Beatrice and Ren gathered their people, weary but efficient. Alexa drew a long breath and dismissed the wind from her fingers. Allison stood beside her, sword still glowing faintly, embers clinging to the edge though the battle had ended.
The silver-eyed man struggled against the roots and wind binding him, but he was no longer untouchable. His capture had tilted the war in their favor.
"Take him," Lucian commanded, his gaze never wavering. "Chain him below. If he slips free, the next head I take will be yours." His words were knives in the ears of the guards, who nodded quickly, trembling as they dragged the prisoner away.
Only when the battlefield was cleansed in fire and storm did Lucian turn to Allison. His hard mask faltered for just a heartbeat when his eyes met hers. She was streaked in blood and ash, strands of hair clinging to her sweat-soaked cheek.
"You're shaking," he murmured.
"I'm not," she lied, voice rough. The fire still clung to her veins, but beneath it exhaustion gnawed at her bones.
Lucian reached out as if to brush the soot from her cheek.
"Home," he said at last. "We're going home." He said as he bent over to kiss her baby bump.
The grand estate that served as their fortress was eerily quiet when they returned. Guards stood double at every corner, torches lining the outer gates, though inside the halls the silence was a balm after the screams of war.
Allison sank into the steaming bath prepared for her, sighing as hot water licked away the grime and dried blood. Muscles she hadn't realized were clenched finally loosened. She stared at the rippling surface of the water, the reflection of her own weary face staring back.
The pendant at her neck had cracked during battle, the ember within glowing faintly. She touched it, fingers trembling, wondering if the fire would one day consume her as much as it had saved her.
Her thoughts spun back to the silver-eyed man. His words haunted her still. " The Flame chose you afterall."
Chosen for what? To fight? To die? To save the world, or dominate it?
She sank deeper into the water, closing her eyes, willing her body to forget the weight of it all, even for a moment.
Stone walls, damp with condensation, groaned as the guards sealed the chamber. The silver-eyed man knelt in chains, heavy iron biting into his wrists and ankles. Unlike ordinary shackles, these were carved with patterns that restricted him from using his powers.
Lucian stood at the front, his very presence pressing the room into silence. Ren lingered at his right, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Yevana entered last, her violet eyes flicking to the prisoner with a strange blend of loathing and familiarity.
Alexa leaned against the wall, twirling a strand of hair as her storm gaze swept over the bound man.
Lucian's voice was low, dangerous. "You've played as a shadow long enough. Tonight, you'll speak."
The prisoner smirked faintly, even in chains. His silver eyes gleamed with something ancient. "Speak? Perhaps. But to which of you?" His gaze flicked deliberately toward Yevana.
Her hands tightened at her sides. "I've always seen you beside Elarian. Always in the corners, watching. But I never once heard your name."
The man tilted his head, as though the question amused him. "Lysander."
Yevana repeated it under her breath, as if tasting the weight of it. Her heart clenched. "So you've been with Elarian all this time? Always lurking, always whispering, always following his orders?"
Lysander smirked again, silence his only answer. Yet something in his eyes that flickered told her enough.
She couldn't stop. The words slipped free. "You… you knew him better than anyone, didn't you? You saw sides of him none of us did. Tell me—"
"Mother." Lucian's voice sliced through her words like a blade. His silver eyes snapped to her, hard as granite. "Enough."
"Lucian—"
"No." His tone brooked no argument but it was soft. "You're exhausted mom. Go rest." He noticed his mom seeking to hear about Elarian.
"Yes, Mom," Alexa chimed, her tone softer but carrying the weight of her brother's command.
Yevana's lips parted in protest, but at last she swallowed it, her shoulders sagging. "Fine." She turned, the hem of her gown brushing the stone floor as she left.
Ren's eyes lingered on her retreating figure. His silence stretched long enough that even Lucian turned to regard him.
At last, Ren's voice echoed softly in the chamber, meant for all four to hear. "Elarian will strike again."
Lysander chuckled darkly, bowing his head as if amused.
Lucian's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. The truth of it already weighed heavy.
In the room, Beatrice's hands trembled as she embraced Tianlei tightly, pressing his small frame against her chest as if she could shield him from every shadow in the world. Her blade leaned forgotten against the wall, still stained with the blood of ghouls.
Her son squirmed against her hold. "Mom, you're suffocating me."
She loosened her grip, smiling weakly, brushing the sweat-damp hair from his brow. "Are you sure you're okay, baby?"
He pouted, crossing his small arms. "I'm fine, Mom. You're too clingy."
Her laughter came out awkward, brittle around the edges. "Hehehe… maybe I am."
But the tremor in her chest didn't fade. She'd seen him on the battlefield, fighting . Too young, too fragilebor at least, he should have been. But Tianlei had not been fragile at all.
"When will Ren come out?" he asked suddenly, voice quiet.
Beatrice mumbled. "Tianlei, he's your father. Stop calling him by his name."
His eyes flicked away, distant.
"I know he did something… very wrong," she continued softly, cupping his cheek. "But he's changed. Do you understand?"
Tianlei nodded, but the motion was hollow. "Okay. Where is Dad now?"
She kissed his forehead instead of answering, holding him tighter.
But then her gaze fell on his small hands. She remembered the sight of him earlier—lightning flashing in one palm, yes, but something else too. Strings. Threads of black energy twisting from his fingers, ensnaring ghouls like puppets before snapping their bones apart.
"Dear," she whispered, pulling back to study him. "When you fought earlier… I saw you use not only lightning but… strings. Where did you get that?"
Tianlei tilted his head innocently. "They just… come out sometimes. I don't know."
Her blood ran cold. Strings. A power neither hers nor Ren's. Something foreign, darker.
She bit her lip, forcing her smile not to break. But inside, guilt ripped through her. She knew Ren's experiments, the dark magic he had dabbled in. But to see its shadow alive in their son…
She brushed her hand across Tianlei's cheek again, whispering softly. "You're strong, my darling. But promise me something, don't let this power take you. You're more than it."
He only blinked at her, not understanding.
Beatrice forced a smile. "Now, go rest."
As he padded away, Beatrice leaned against the wall, her hands trembling, eyes glistening with silent fear.
Allison stood in the shadow of the hallway, fingers clenched tight around the frame of the door. She had heard everything.
Her gaze lingered on Tianlei's retreating back, then slid toward Beatrice, whose shoulders shook faintly as she whispered apologies to the empty air.
Dark magic and strings.
Allison's eyes narrowed flickering faintly with firelight. She just hope Tianlei won't be consumed by power.