The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 245: Knowing nothing.

Chapter 245: Knowing nothing.

Hector narrowed his eyes. "That village was burned to ash, thanks to your father’s flaws in shutting down the rebels. No one survived but me."

Ren’s grin faltered. As the carriage rolled deeper into the shadowed path, darkness spilled across her features, mirroring the heaviness in her chest. Lora had told her how terrible the situation was that night.

"Not only you," she said quietly.

Hector’s eyes drifted to her, surprise flickering for a heartbeat before he masked it with indifference.

"Well... good for that person," he muttered. "Now you know a small fragment of my life. Just a piece of the ruin your bloodline left behind."

His voice snapped like dry twigs, and then fell into silence. It stretched long and awkward, the stillness broken only by the creak of wheels and the rustle of the curtains.

Finally, Kai reached through the quiet, not aloud, but with his thoughts, brushing gently against hers.

’How’s your training with my father?’

Ren blinked, grateful for the lifeline.

’Good. I asked him to help remove the dark aura from you... but he refused. Said his aura is too black, meant to rule the underworld. If he touched yours, it could drive you insane.’

Kai’s laughter rippled through her mind like a warm wind. ’So you’re trying to save me now, little wife?’

’It’s nothing,’ she replied, ’compared to how many times you’ve saved my life.’

She reached out and gently took his hand. Their fingers intertwined, a quiet anchor in the middle of the storm in their hearts.

Hector glanced at them and let out a low, irritated growl, but the couple ignored him.

Ren tried not to let it get to her, but it was hard to deny: despite his handsome face, Hector was insufferably arrogant. And yet... Lora insisted he hadn’t always been like this. The more Lora spoke, the more Ren noticed the unsettling similarities, both in features and in pride, between Hector and her father.

’Too much alike,’ she thought. ’Stubborn. Beautiful. Broken.’

Breaking the silence, she continued talking to her husband through the bond, "Your father didn’t train me last night. He sent a bird to pull me out of the Mirror World. Something had happened, some issue with one of the beasts in his realm."

Kai raked a hand through his hair, a rare sign of frustration. "There’s only one beast that drives him mad... He’s never been able to tame the Beast King."

Curiosity warmed Ren’s cheeks. "What kind of creature is it?"

Kai’s voice dropped in her mind, a mixture of awe and caution in his tone. "A massive black dragon. His name is Adoninath. He’s ancient, was there even before my father ascended the throne. Even my father’s magic pales beside his. When Adoninath loses control... nothing can contain him."

Ren leaned closer, intrigued, placing her head on his shoulder, "And your father can’t help him?"

"He’s tried for centuries. There’s something wrong inside the dragon’s soul. Something beyond taming. But he’s been kinder lately, at least to Azrael."

Ren narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, the name stirring something unspoken in her memory.

Just then, the glow of Alvonia’s light broke through the curtains, casting faint light across her face, as if marking the moment with silent gravity.

"Azrael has ascended," Ren declared quietly in his mind. "I asked your father to release him, but he told me there was no need to worry. He has his wings now... and he’s been accepted as one of the Al-Gathiran Saints."

She had meant to tell Kai the night before, but he hadn’t returned. At her words, Kai’s heartbeat surged. His brother was alive. Free. Not punished.

The weight he’d been carrying, the fear that Azrael had suffered because of him, lifted, if only slightly. If his ascension was real, then it must have happened the moment he pulled Kai from the tunnels of the future. That meant... he had earned his wings.

"I’m happy for him," Kai murmured. "It was always his dream, to shed the name ’demon,’ to stop being called the Lord of Death. He used to tell me... when he was a child, everything he touched withered."

Ren smiled softly. "Then I’m happy for him, too."

Kai’s gaze darkened with thought. "My father and the Fae King... they’re both from the Al-Gathiran kin, the Heavens’ bloodline," he said, pausing. "Before their wings were taken."

Ren gently squeezed his hand. "What happened to them?"

"According to Heaven’s law," he said, voice low, "the wings were burned."

The words hung in the mind, heavy.

It was a sorrowful truth, an eternal punishment. The price of their sin was to watch their most sacred gift, their wings, reduced to ash.

An hour later, the caravan rolled into the snowy courtyard of Jaigara. The sky above was cloaked in gray clouds, and a thin layer of snow blanketed the stone ground like ash from a forgotten, dead fire. More carriages stood waiting, elegant, regal, their banners fluttering in the cold wind.

The Kings of the Seven Kingdoms had arrived.

Ren could smell it, the hum of magic in the air. It pricked her skin like static. That could only mean one thing: Sigaros was here. He had brought his commanders, his presence a declaration. He had come to restore peace to Witch Island... to bring his people out of isolation.

Today, in the great assembly hall of Jaigara Castle, they would make a decision that would shape history: the fate of the sorcerers. For too long, magic had been suppressed, yet the community had grown quietly in the shadows. The truth was undeniable, people couldn’t resist the impulse to practice magic. It lived in their heart, deluding them. It was better to know what kind of spells people used rather than staying in the dark and grow like demons.

As the carriages halted, Gamma Axe and Rail waited at the foot of the stairs, solemn and still.

Hector stepped down from the carriage, his gaze rising to the grandeur of the castle before him. Its towers loomed high, proud and ancient, too proud, to be honest and.it irked him.

He clenched his jaw. ’While the King lived in luxury, wrapped in furs and strategy,’ Hector thought ’I was starving in the snow, wondering if I’d see another day. My so-called father sat here on a throne, thinking only of his next conquest... while I was fighting for scraps, or a loaf of dried bread.’

"If I were you," Axe said, his voice calm but pointed, "I would’ve at least visited my father before choosing to become a vampire."

Hector met his gaze sharply. This jerk did not know nothing.