Royal Bastard’s Bloodstained Regression
Chapter 125: Let me claim your purity

Daemon walked down the dim corridor of the theatre's upper floor. The grand play had ended, and the building half theatre, half noble retreat was buzzing with faint laughter and the clink of wine glasses.

A side hallway led him to quieter rooms, usually reserved for privacy after events like this.

Gabriel, still on the main floor speaking with the theatre manager, wouldn't come up anytime soon.

Daemon slipped into one of the empty guest rooms and used a lampstand to wedge the door shut. The room was simple a couch long enough to rest on, a few draped chairs, and warm lamplight filling the space.

Zaria lay down on the couch, wings lightly folded, eyes fixed on him.

Daemon looked down at her. He was nervous—he couldn't lie about that. But this wasn't about love. It was about what had to be done. For the plan. For the future. Even if it meant betraying the promise he once made to Nyxtriel.

Zaria blushed under his gaze. "Why are you just staring? Aren't you going to... remove my wings?"

He paused. "There's a way to speed up the process. You said it yourself, the only way to sever your ties to heaven is to stain your purity. To make you truly human."

She didn't reply. Deep down, she hated how easy it was to trust him. Seraphiel the one who killed Michael,should've been her enemy. But Daemon... Daemon hadn't done any of those things.

Maybe that's what scared her most.

"I want to make this decision myself," she said softly, voice trembling. "I want to stop being the brat everyone thinks I am."

He nodded. "Then I'll be gentle. But if you're scared—"

"I'm not," she interrupted, grabbing his wrist. "Don't stop. I trust you."

Daemon smiled. "Thank you, Zaria. That means more than you know."

He reached to unbutton his shirt as the room fell silent except for her heartbeat loud enough it could have echoed off the walls.

She looked away, her wings trembling slightly. He stepped closer, gently brushing his fingers against hers.

And then, the lamp flickered.

The rest of the world fell away.

Meanwhile, back at the balcony...

Gabriel and Vivian stepped into the dimly lit room where the theatre's upper floor had once been filled with laughter and music. Now, only overturned chairs, scattered feathers, and the fading trace of holy energy remained.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "There was a fight here."

Vivian glanced around, uneasy. "What happened to Sir Luka? And... where are Daemon and Zaria?"

Gabriel didn't respond immediately. His expression darkened as a violent chill swept through him. His hands clenched at his sides. Something wasn't right.

His bloodlust surged.

"Did they try to hurt him...?" he muttered.

"Gabriel, stop this!" Vivian grabbed his arm. "You're jumping to conclusions again. You can't assume the worst every time something goes wrong!"

He turned to her, face hard, eyes flashing. "You don't understand, Vivi. My brother could be in danger. Those holy temple fanatics—!"

"Gabriel!" she cut him off, her voice shaking. "You're not acting like yourself anymore. Ever since you saw him again, you've been different. This isn't the Gabriel I knew back at the Royal Academy."

She paused, tears threatening. "You used to be calm. Thoughtful. Now you're angry. Obsessed."

Gabriel's breath caught. He looked away, ashamed. "That's because... he's my twin brother. The only one who truly understands me. I failed him once... I won't do it again."

His voice cracked at the end.

Vivian stared at him, her heart aching. She remembered the Gabriel who had once quietly helped first-years train, who stayed up late tutoring commoners who couldn't keep up. He wasn't loved because of his name but because of his heart.

And now that heart was unraveling.

Gabriel turned, walking away.

"I need to find him."

Vivian stood still for a moment, then sighed and followed.

One thought clung to her:

It wasn't just brotherly love.

Whatever bound the Eclipse Brothers... was deeper, darker, and far more dangerous than she'd ever imagined.

Later...

Three hours had passed. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting golden light through the shuttered windows of the theatre room.

Zaria lay silently on the couch, wrapped in Daemon's jacket. Her bare shoulders peeked out, flushed with warmth and confusion. Everything had happened so fast—too fast for her to fully process—but one feeling lingered:

She had felt loved.

Her face turned red as she glanced at the floor. Two white wings, once radiant and proud, now lay scattered and lifeless. She was human now. No more heaven. No more eternity above. And yet...it made her sad a little but if Daemon was by her side, maybe that didn't matter.

Across the room, Daemon stood shirtless by the window, the light playing along the edges of his lean frame. His thoughts were sharp, focused. With Zaria out of the way, the next step in his plan was close. William and Varian should be back at the capital by now, handling their part of the preparations. And if everything went according to plan, Nyxtriel should already have the Saintess in custody.

Everything was moving exactly as it should.

He stepped away from the window and sat beside Zaria, brushing her hair aside and kissing her forehead.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly. "Does it hurt?"

She shook her head and smiled gently. "No. I think I still have some healing energy left... not much, but enough. I'm fine, really."

"I'm glad," he said, his voice calm but calculated. His gaze flicked to the wings on the floor. Those feathers were a problem. If she returned to the temple now, they'd know what happened. And with Sir Luka gone, all suspicion would fall on him.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Zaria, I need your help. We have to go back now—before Gabriel starts panicking. But the temple... they'll blame me for Luka's disappearance. They'll say I killed him just because of what I am. And no one will believe otherwise."

Zaria's eyes widened with understanding. "You're right. They won't believe it. But don't worry... I'll speak for you. I'll explain everything. You didn't do anything wrong, and I'll make sure they know it."

Daemon shook his head, his voice low. "I'm grateful you trust me, but... without your wings, they'll ask questions. They'll want to know who took your purity."

Zaria froze. She hadn't thought that far ahead. Her eyes widened in panic. "You're right. What am I supposed to say? What should I do?!"

"Calm down, Zaria. Listen to me."

She looked up, her breath trembling.

"This plan might be extreme," he said, "but I need your help—for the sake of our future."

"Our... future?" she whispered.

"Yes. Picture it," Daemon said, his voice warm and persuasive. "A life where it's just us. Far away from the Holy Temple, from Gabriel, from everything. A home of our own, where we laugh and live peacefully."

Zaria blinked, imagining it. A quiet cottage, laughter, warmth. She had seen glimpses of such things through the forbidden river in heaven—happy human lives she had once envied.

"Happily..." she echoed.

"Yes," he continued, gently. "And one day... a family. Children. Our children."

Her lips parted in wonder. A human family of her own. "That... sounds nice."

Daemon's tone sharpened slightly, back to business. "That's why we need to protect ourselves—especially you. We'll have to come up with a lie."

She tilted her head. "A lie?"

"You're free now, Zaria. No more wings, no divine laws. Just say Sir Luka violated you... and fled."

Zaria stiffened. "But Daemon... they won't believe me."

"They will. You only have to say it for three days. Just until the coronation. After that... I'll confess everything."

"What? Why would you do that?" she asked, stunned. "The Holy Temple will come for you. They'll—"

"I know." He cut her off softly. "But I won't let you carry a sin for my sake. This is my responsibility. I want to show you how serious I am."

Zaria's heart ached with conflict. Sadness and gratitude swirled in her chest. Could she really lie? Just for three days?

"...Alright," she said at last. "For you. I'll do it."

Daemon smiled gently, but inside, his thoughts were cold and calculated. On the day of the coronation, he planned to detonate everything—to destroy Varyndor and vanish. There would be no "truth" to confess, and no one left to hear it.

Zaria's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "But... if you run, and I'm left behind... how will I find you? What if they lock me away?"

Daemon reached out and cupped her cheek, smiling with false warmth. "They'll protect you. And when the time is right, I'll come back for you. I promise."

She melted into his embrace. "Oh, Daemon... you really do love me."

"Yes," he whispered. "I do."

But his eyes, just behind her back, were empty.

.....

Outside the grand theatre, Gabriel paced back and forth in frustration. The royal carriage stood waiting at the curb, and he'd already worn a track into the cobblestones with his anxious steps. Vivian, leaning against the carriage with her arms folded, looked utterly drained.

"Gabriel, please," she sighed, "just wait a little longer. I'm sure they'll be back soon."

"That's it!" Gabriel snapped. "I've waited for hours—soon it'll be midnight! I'm calling the palace guard—"

"Who are you calling, exactly?" a voice interrupted coolly.

Gabriel spun around.

"Daemon?" he blinked, stunned.

Daemon stood there, calm as ever. Gabriel rushed to him, eyes scanning him up and down. "You're fine... But what's with the dark circles under your eyes?"

Daemon didn't reply immediately. Instead, his expression fell into something more solemn—guilt, maybe. "The truth is..." he murmured, then stepped aside.

A figure emerged from behind him, cloaked.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "Who's that?"

The woman slowly lowered her hood.

It was Zaria.

But her wings were gone.

Her expression was distant—blank, almost. Sad. Afraid.

Gabriel's heart sank. "Zaria... your wings. What happened? And where's Sir Luka?"

Daemon and Zaria exchanged a silent glance.

Neither answered.

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