The Devil's Betrothed
Chapter 477: Doesn’t Matter Who She is

Chapter 477: Doesn’t Matter Who She is

The following morning, Arlan awoke with Oriana nestled in his embrace, her breathing steady but undeniably unconscious. Although her face bore the faint remnants of last night’s skirmish, he had meticulously cleansed her and replaced her blood-stained attire, remnants of their encounter with that evil witch, Edna.

Gently, he checked her pulse, relieved to find it steady yet noticeably weaker. ’Her recovery will require time,’ he thought, concern etching his features.

His gaze tenderly traced the contours of her face, memories flooding back of the anguish in her eyes when he had made the difficult decision to depart. Those tear-filled eyes of hers had silently accused him of betrayal, their depth reflecting a wounded trust.

"All I could focus on was safeguarding you," he murmured softly, his voice tinged with regret. "Even if I had known your true identity, my actions would remain same. Human or not, I would do anything to shield you from harm even if that means sacrificing my life everytime. I did not trust that witch who could orchestrate any plan and might have harmed you so I preferred to keep you away and end her life for good. If faced with a similar threat, I would do the same, placing myself between you and any danger. My commitment to safeguarding you knows no bounds."

With a gentle touch, his lips met her forehead, sealing a promise laden with profound emotion. After a while, he let her go and stepped out of the bed. He had things to discuss with others as the previous night he was unwilling to leave Oriana’s side.

As Arlan took a tentative step forward, a sharp pang pierced his heart, causing him to halt abruptly. His hand instinctively grasped his chest as he closed his eyes, bracing himself against the unexpected agony. Regaining his composure, a troubling thought surfaced:

"How did that divine weapon fail to kill me?"

Seeking clarity, he knew he’d need to consult with others. Thoughts of Oriana consumed him, particularly after witnessing her astonishing prowess the prior evening. Though she emanated an aura beyond that of a mere dark witch, his concerns remained singular: her well-being.

Soon, Arlan emerged, impeccably attired, courtesy of diligent servants who anticipated his needs. Making his way to the expansive lounge area of the manor, he overheard Cornelia Grim, the esteemed head of the Witches’ Council, engaged in conversation with Evanthe.

"Your Eminence, I must journey back to Agartha," Cornelia intoned gravely.

Evanthe offered a sympathetic nod. "Concerns for Morpheus weigh heavily on your mind."

"He is stabilized, yet his soul needs healing. Our treatments must continue," Cornelia affirmed.

"I shall join you soon, once I’ve addressed pressing matters here," Evanthe pledged.

As Arlan arrived there, Cornelia bowed to him respectfully. "Prince Arlan, I bid you farewell. Should you require any assistance, do not hesitate to summon me."

Acknowledging her gesture with a nod, the Prince watched as the eminent witch vanished from sight, leaving him to ponder the unfolding events and his intricate connection to them.

Gazing at the now vacant space where Cornelia had stood moments before, Yorian asked, "Do you feel bad for her?"

Evanthe’s voice quivered with a touch of remorse. "Despite the Queen of Witches in existence, Cornelia devoted herself tirelessly to our clan, often neglecting her personal well-being she was nothing but just young witch who was still learning. It pains me to see such dedication go unrecognized. Perhaps I failed as a Queen."

"Do not say it. No one can compare to the sacrifices you have made in your life," Sierra said, "No one can fathom the pain you have suffered to protect your people."

"You are the greatest queen the witch clan could ever have and a protector Agartha ever had, The situations at that time were worse when none of us was prepared to face it," Yorian added.

Drayce, who had already appeared there, heard it and tried to understand more of his mother’s side. He had never blamed her for anything but all he wished only if he could share her pain and burden.

Approaching Arlan, Drayce inquired, "How are you?"

"Better," Arlan affirmed with a nod.

As they congregated in the lounge, Evanthe’s gaze settled upon Arlan, concern evident in her eyes. Disengaging from their clasp, she remarked, "Your recovery is far from complete. The wound from the assault still torments you."

Arlan’s countenance remained stoic, his demeanor unwavering. "I can manage," he asserted, his resolve evident, seemingly indifferent to his lingering injuries.

"You’ll may remain powerless until that wound fully mends. It was a divine weapon so the wound might take a time, but I can help you fasten the recovery" Evanthe affirmed, casting a meaningful glance at her son.

Understanding his mother’s implication, Drayce responded, "I’ll handle it."

Channeling the potent essence of his shadowy abilities, Drayce infused Arlan with rejuvenating energy. Sensing a surge of relief, Arlan directed his gaze towards Evanthe, a burning inquiry shimmering in his eyes. "How did that weapon not end my life?"

Evanthe explained to him a reason as to what they all had discussed in the night,"...and why there is such a relationship between the darkness and divine power inside you, its answer we can only get when we get to know how you were born."

"Even I am not aware what exactly happened in the past," he admitted, "Except for the fact that my mother was going to lose me when she was still carrying me inside her. To protect her unborn child, she did something she should not have and her child was saved. What she did, I do not know but it includes Oriana’s mother who helped my mother save the child."

"It’s imperative you seek insights from your father," Evanthe continued earnestly. "Understanding your origins could unveil crucial information, fortifying protections for both you and Oriana."

Arlan absorbed her counsel, offering a silent nod. Yet, his thoughts swiftly gravitated back to the immediate concern. "Oriana is still unconscious." He lamented, his worry palpable.

"Evidently, Oriana’s mortal frame struggled to contain the full extent of her formidable powers. However, given time, her condition will stabilize," Evanthe reassured, anticipating further inquiries from Arlan, which never came.

Drayce interjected, attempting to draw Arlan into the discussion, "Much like Oriana, Seren grappled with the overwhelming surge of her abilities. Yet, with adequate rest, she eventually recovered." His subtle hint at Oriana’s latent powers went unnoticed by Arlan, whose focus seemed elsewhere.

A hushed silence enveloped the room as the group exchanged meaningful glances, their concerns palpable.

"We ought to assess Oriana’s condition," Yorian finally broke the tension.

Upon entering Arlan’s chamber, a transformative scene greeted them. Gone was the disheveled, blood-streaked figure they had left behind. In her place lay Oriana, immaculately cleaned, clad in a delicate nightgown, her once blood-spattered visage radiant in the room’s soft sunlight.

Taking the lead this time, Sierra, shrouded in her hood, approached Oriana and sat at the edge of the bed. Unveiling a hand adorned with shimmering blue-gold scales, she gently placed it upon Oriana’s forehead, her eyes sealing shut in concentration.

As Sierra probed Oriana’s essence, a surge of concern clouded her thoughts. ’Though her powers no longer remain suppressed, the real challenge lies in her mortal body’s ability to endure them, especially within the human realm. She is Demoness and if she needs to make her body in sync with her powers, she needs to cultivate in the Demon realm,’ Sierra’s brows furrowed, ’If she happens to enter the Demon realm, then disaster might await for everyone and if she won’t, it might harm her body.’

With a complex array of emotions shadowing her features, Sierra finally broke her concentrated stance. Before she could articulate her findings, Arlan’s voice sliced through the tension. "Is she alright?"

While Sierra’s hood obscured her expression, it shifted subtly towards Arlan. "Prince Arlan, shouldn’t your concern be more focused on understanding her true identity rather than merely her well-being?"

Arlan’s response was resolute, albeit evasive. "Doesn’t matter who she is, as long as she is safe."

Sierra shook her head, "Do not try to run away from reality, Prince Arlan. You should try your best to know who she is and that way things would be easier between both of you. In future, something might happen that both of you won’t be able to handle it if you continue to feign ignorance." Arlan was left speechless and Evanthe spoke again, "Prince Arlan, you are smart enough to know who she is. But everything is not as simple as you see. You need to know about her past so you can protect her future."

Feeling the weight of the moment, Drayce stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Arlan’s shoulder. "They are right, Arlan. I will explain everything to you later. I know what you are worried about, but rest assured, everything will be as it is. She will be the same Oriana that you want. Nothing can change a person’s true nature and their kind heart as long as the one they cherish is by their side. You are by her side."

Arlan nodded, wrestling with his emotions. He knew denying the reality was not the solution but all he worried was that he didn’t wish to lose her.