The Devil's Betrothed
Chapter 486: I Choose To Endure

Chapter 486: I Choose To Endure

Drayce and Yorian felt the ominous presence of potent darkness, though its source was distant.

After ensuring Seren was asleep, Drayce emerged from the chamber and joined Yorian in the expansive lounge, bathed in the soft glow from the lamps hung on the walls. Both men directed their attention toward a looming mountain on the horizon.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, Drayce felt the palpable surge of formidable energy emanating from the mountain’s direction. "Is that Oriana?" he inquired.

Yorian’s gaze remained fixed, his expression unreadable. "It appears your friend is bearing the brunt of his mate’s wrath."

A shadow crossed Drayce’s face. "Arlan hasn’t fully recovered. If this persists, he could sustain grave injuries. I must—"

"Stay your hand, King Drayce," Yorian interrupted, locking eyes with him. His tone was solemn, weighted with a haunting conviction."Have you ever watched someone take their final breath right before your eyes, knowing you had the power to save them, yet being utterly powerless to intervene?"

Drayce recoiled, Yorian’s words piercing him with an unsettling resonance. They unearthed memories of his childhood when he had helplessly witnessed his mother’s tragic leap from a cliff. As a young boy, his emotions were a tumultuous mix of sorrow and resentment toward his mother’s choice. Yet, the rawness of a child’s feelings paled in comparison to the complexities an adult could experience.

"I’ve lived through that very torment," Yorian confessed, his visage darkening with haunting memories. "To witness someone I held dear sacrifice themselves on my behalf, leaving me utterly powerless—it’s a crushing weight," his voice quivered, carrying the heavy burden of past memories. "In that moment, you grapple with a profound sense of helplessness and despair. You only end up resenting that person, even if they rationalise their sacrifice as a noble act of protecting you. How can you find comfort in living a life attained through such a heart-wrenching loss? Wouldn’t you rather prefer dying than endure such a loss?"

Drayce was rendered speechless, gripped by a chilling realization. Should Seren ever make such a sacrificial choice, he feared he would be plunged into an abyss of grief so profound it could shatter worlds, leaving him adrift in a reality devoid of her presence.

"Oriana was unwavering in her determination to shield him, prepared to exhaust every avenue. Yet, Arlan denied her that chance, leaving her to witness his final moments," Yorian conveyed with a grave tone. "The anguish she experienced must have been so profound to awaken powers of such magnitude. Can you fathom the depth of sorrow required to stir such formidable strength? If Oriana harbors resentment toward Prince Arlan, her feelings are justified. Unless she confronts and releases this pent-up rage, she risks imploding, wreaking havoc upon herself and those around her."

"I grasp the severity," Drayce began, his voice tinged with concern, "but—"

"Have no fear," Yorian interjected, sensing Drayce’s apprehension. "Oriana’s intent isn’t murderous. While she seeks retribution, it’s born from a place of deep-seated affection towards Prince Arlan. No one desires Arlan’s safety more fervently than she does. Her fury stems from profound emotion."

With a resigned sigh, Drayce’s gaze drifted toward the distant mountains. The palpable aura of dark magic, wielded by a formidable Demoness, permeated the air. Despite their awareness of the unfolding events, they found themselves relegated to the role of mere spectators in a complex tapestry woven by two deeply intertwined destinies.

After what felt like an eternity, the tumultuous energy finally subsided. Drayce exhaled deeply, his instinct urging him to rush to his friend’s side, yet he restrained himself.

Yorian chuckled softly, "I half-expected you to vanish instantly, making a beeline for your friend, King Drayce. It’s just as well you stayed put."

"I earnestly hope they reconcile their differences swiftly," Drayce remarked, his voice tinged with restrained concern. He sought comfort in the knowledge that Arlan, being a Dragon, possessed the fortitude to endure severe injuries, even if the healing process would demand time.

----

Arlan cradled Oriana tenderly, continuing to hold her close. As her sobs eventually subsided, he realized with growing alarm that she had slipped into unconsciousness. Given her already weakened state, exerting her powers so intensely had taken its inevitable toll.

Summoning the remnants of his waning strength, Arlan lifted Oriana gently into his arms. Despite his own diminished vitality, he mustered the energy needed to teleport them both back to the sanctuary of Wildridge Manor’s chamber.

Carefully laying her down upon the bed, he draped a comforting blanket over Oriana, shielding her fragile form. Exhausted and drained, Arlan’s strength ebbed away. He knelt beside the bed, succumbing to unconsciousness, his head resting gently on the bed’s edge. Even in this vulnerable state, his grip remained steadfastly clasped around her hand, as though fearing she might slip away should he loosen his hold.

The following day, Ana lingered anxiously outside the chamber, met with silence and no indication of activity. Uncertain of the appropriate course of action, she hesitated. Had it been only Oriana within, Ana would have readily entered to assess her condition. However, with both the Crown Prince and her master inside, she felt apprehensive about intruding.

Observing Ana’s evident concern, the butler approached and remarked, "Given Her Highness’s frail condition, it’s understandable she continues to rest. His Highness, too, likely requires this respite to recuperate from his exhaustion."

Ana nodded, absorbing the explanation, her worry tempered by a semblance of understanding.

By early noon, the door to the Crown Prince’s chamber finally swung open, revealing Arlan. Dressed in fresh attire, he appeared as poised and impeccable as ever as he exited the room.

Servants nearby offered their greetings, to which Arlan responded with a brief nod. His gaze settled on Ana. "She’s still resting. Ensure she’s not disturbed," he instructed with a tone of gentle authority.

Ana acknowledged his directive as Arlan departed to attend to his duties and greet the esteemed guests, Drayce and his wife, who were staying at Wildridge Manor.

Later, within the confines of Arlan’s study, Drayce entered and took a seat opposite him. "Let me see your hand," Drayce insisted, extending his own in a gesture of concern.

Arlan waved him off dismissively. "I’m fine," he asserted.

Unswayed, Drayce rose from his seat, approaching Arlan with a stern expression. "Quit being stubborn," he admonished, reaching out to grasp Arlan’s hand firmly, determined to assess the true extent of his well-being.

Arlan acquiesced, recognizing Drayce’s persistent concern. As Drayce examined him, he discerned signs of increased frailty. "She really went harsh on you," Drayce remarked with evident disapproval.

"I brought this upon myself," Arlan responded tersely.

Drayce’s expression hardened into a frown of displeasure. "Let me heal you."

Arlan withdrew his hand defiantly. "No need."

"Don’t delude yourself. Your body is struggling. Refusing help won’t expedite your healing," Drayce insisted, his tone tinged with urgency. "Stand up and let me..."

Arlan met his friend’s gaze steadily. "If I resort to other methods to heal, what’s the point of allowing her to harm me? She desires to inflict pain, and I choose to endure it. It’s as simple as that."

"You can’t continue like this; it will only inflict more damage upon your body," Drayce cautioned.

"I don’t care," Arlan declared resolutely,"as long as it makes her feel better."