The Devil's Betrothed
Chapter 485: Granting A Permission

Chapter 485: Granting A Permission

Yorian made his way to the lounge, where Arlan, Seren, and Drayce awaited news. Given Oriana’s reluctance to engage with Arlan, they decided to get Yorian to interact with her as he was the closest person to her like a friend.

"What did you discern?" Drayce inquired, his tone laced with anticipation.

"Nothing satisfactory. You two must have already heard it while sitting here," Yorian replied only to hear Arlan say with a loud frown, "I wasted time for nothing," and stood up to leave.

Arlan looked at him and heard him say, "Something really is going on in her mind. Be cautious."

"I don’t have to be cautious of her." Arlan retorted dismissively.

Yorian’s brow furrowed with concern. "Understand that she is not just an ordinary Oriana now, but someone different."

"She remains the same to me," he declared before exiting without further ado.

Watching Arlan’s departure, Yorian exhaled deeply, murmuring to himself, "These two, both unyielding in their resolve. I have never felt this worried for anything since I left Agartha."

"Mister Yorian, should I attempt to speak with her?" Seren proposed, concern evident in her voice.

Yorian offered a gentle shake of his head, "Not at this moment." He harbored reservations about subjecting Seren to Oriana’s current disposition. "Until we ascertain the root of her turmoil, I believe only Prince Arlan should engage with her. For now, let’s offer our unwavering support."

Catching Seren’s eye, Drayce nodded reassuringly, remarking, "We should trust Yorian’s judgment."

"The day after tomorrow is the wedding...." Seren showed her concern, the meaning behind her words was clear. The couple to be wedded was in a mess and no one knew what Oriana was going to do.

"Wedding is the last thing that is Arlan’s concern at this moment. We can do nothing but be patient. There is still time," Drayce assured her.

----

As night descended and the hour for repose approached, Arlan approached the bed, casting a concerned glance upon Oriana, who remained fixated on the world beyond the window’s glass.

"It’s time to rest," Arlan gently urged, moving to assist her. Yet, before he could act on his intent...

"Take me there," Oriana’s voice broke the silence, her words devoid of negotiation.

Arlan traced the direction of her unwavering gaze, settling upon the distant silhouette of the mountain range.

"To where?" he inquired cautiously, seeking clarity amidst the uncertainty.

"Take me to those mountains, somewhere far from here," she reiterated, her gaze unwaveringly fixed on the distant peaks beyond the window.

Though her request bordered on the implausible, Arlan stood prepared to honor it. Extending his hand, he awaited her to hold it. Oriana, without a word, grasped it. As she attempted to rise from the bed, her balance faltered due to a little numbness in her legs, but Arlan swiftly steadied her within his embrace, both his hands wrapped around her, holding her petite body in strong hold.

"Are you alright?" he queried, concern evident in his voice.

She remained silent, offering no reply.

Ensuring her safety was paramount, he shielded her with his powers, fortifying her frail form against the rigors of teleportation. In an instant, the familiar confines of his chamber dissolved, replaced by the rugged expanse of a mountainous cliff, distant from the confines of Wildridge Manor.

"We’ve arrived," Arlan murmured, his arms still enveloping Oriana.

Drawing back slightly, she scanned their surroundings. Everywhere was dark but her vision somehow allowed her to see enough clearly, which was surprising to her but there was no such expression of surprise on her face.

Utilizing his abilities, Arlan conjured a flame, illuminating their surroundings and casting a warm glow upon the terrain.

Oriana gently freed herself from his embrace, and Arlan, ever vigilant, allowed her the space she sought, though concerned about her stability.

As she distanced herself, Oriana lifted her gaze, locking eyes with Arlan.

Arlan looked back at her, he felt like and eternity he had not seen her despite having her by his side, but just by being able to see in her eyes, he felt like finally he could see her.

But the pair of those hazel eyes didn’t seem like before, lacking all those emotions she once used to have in them.

"Say you allow me to use my powers on you," Oriana intoned, her voice echoing with an unsettling resolve as she continued to incrementally distance herself from him, with each step back, her gaze never leaving his.

Confounded yet sensing the gravity of her request, Arlan acquiesced, "I allow you to use your powers on me."

As the words left his lips, a palpable shift occurred. Darkness enveloped Oriana, tendrils of shadowy energy swirling around her form. With a deliberate motion, she unleashed a potent spell, hurtling it toward Arlan with formidable force. Struck squarely, he staggered backward, the impact sending him reeling several paces.

Regaining his composure, Arlan steadied himself, meeting Oriana’s intense gaze. Her eyes, now darkened with fury, bore into him as she poised herself for another assault.

"You wished to die, don’t you?" she seethed, her voice laced with bitterness. "Prepare for your wish to be granted." With those chilling words, she unleashed another devastating attack.

Refusing to evade, Arlan absorbed the full brunt of her another onslaught, the impact catapulting him several feet, where he landed heavily upon the verdant grass below.

Oriana advanced menacingly, her aura pulsating with escalating darkness. "Consider yourself privileged," she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "Instead of a that disgusting witch, it will be I who ends you."

Despite the relentless barrage of Oriana’s anger, Arlan rose to his feet, steadfast and prepared to accept another attacks. He recognized the depth of her pain, understanding that her wrath was an expression of profound hurt. And so, he stood resolute, willing to endure whatever punishment she deemed necessary, even if it meant his death.

With each deliberate stride Oriana took toward him, she continued to attack him with spell after spell, each one getting stronger with strength.

Arlan who had not recovered from the stab of divine weapon and had not regained his powers entirely, braced himself against her relentless assault. He endured each spell, determined to let her hurt him till she felt content. However, as her magic culminated in an overwhelmingly powerful attack, Arlan’s body started to give up.

He could not stand the last attack.

Hurtled through the air by the sheer force of her spell, Arlan collided with a massive boulder, shattering it upon impact. Gasping for breath, he could no longer suppress the blood that welled within him, coughing it forth as his body lay sprawled amidst the fragmented rocks, his strength waning.

Standing tall, Oriana ceased her assault, her voice echoing with malevolent intensity. "Die now, or rest assured, I will ensure your end is far more agonizing than this." Her words, tinged with wrath, hung heavily in the air, underscoring the gravity of her threat.

With her fury reaching its zenith, Oriana’s breaths came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving tumultuously.

The only sound that met her ears in the aftermath was the muted coughing of Arlan, followed by an unsettling silence that permeated the air.

Oriana turned around, facing her back at where Arlan was lying somewhere at a distance under the pile of rocks and severally hurt.

"He better die or..." she felt a pain in her chest and her hand moved to clutch it. She felt suffocated. "It doesn’t hurt. Let him die." Tears finally streaming down her eyes, all the emotions other than just anger showed in them finally.

It was as if the pent-up rage she had harboured since awakening had surged forth in a torrential wave of emotion. She stood there, crying, unable to contain her tears.

She was about to fall to her knees, but a pair of strong arms held her from behind and pulled her into a warm embrace, not letting her fall on the ground. Her trembling back was pressed against the strong chest of a man.

She didn’t have strength to free herself from that hold and continued to stand, crying.

Arlan, continued to hold her from behind, not disturbing her from crying.

She helplessly cried out, "I hate you Arlan Cromwell..."

"I understand. So, do not grant me forgiveness easily," Arlan whispered, his voice tinged with pain, as he leaned close to Oriana’s ear from behind. His hands, clasped in front of her stomach, tightened as though determined not to release her, even if she sought to pull away.

"I hate you..." she repeated, punctuating her words with sobs, as if those were the only sentiments and words she could articulate in that moment.