Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 457: Falling to Ruin I

Chapter 457: Falling to Ruin I

Daphne made her way out from the inner chambers, her thighs burning at the number of stairs she had to climb. She hadn’t realized how deep it was when she went down, partly because she was still disoriented from the sudden wakeup, and partly because it was a lot easier to climb down with support than it was to haul herself up.

She gingerly pushed open the stone door, peeking carefully outside. The royal palace should be deserted, but one couldn’t be too careful. The air was thick with smoke and dust, and Daphne hurriedly covered the lower half of her face as she stepped outside to take her first look at what happened to Xahan.

Devastation greeted her eyes. Daphne blinked in disbelief as her eyes took in the open sky; an impossible feat if not for the fact that half of the palace had been destroyed. Gone were the beautiful murals decorating the stone walls and the intricate carvings on the ceilings. Instead, all that was left was rubble.

Suddenly, Daphne was thankful she had stopped Cordelia from following after her― a visitor like her already felt heartache seeing the destruction wrought upon by the storm. Cordelia, who loved this kingdom like it was her own, would be devastated at the destruction.

Then again, could the storm truly do this much damage? The royal palace was made with expert craftsmanship and quality materials; it shouldn’t have been so easily destroyed, let alone this badly. If this was what Xahan’s best building had been reduced to, what did the rest of Xahan look like?

Was there even a kingdom left?

There was an eerie silence in the air; Daphne expected to hear the whistling of the wind from the storm, instead of the unnatural calmness. Apprehension flooded Daphne’s guts and her mouth grew dry.

Was Atticus buried somewhere in the ground with King Calarian? How was Daphne even supposed to start looking for him?

Then, the ground began to rumble, before the loud crashing noise filled the air. Curious to know what was happening, she quickly ran out of the half-beaten gate to take a closer look.

A building was collapsing right in front of her very eyes, but it wasn’t due to the storm. The building had been cleaved in half too evenly for it to be caused by a natural disaster. It must have been magic.

Atticus.

Daphne picked up her skirts and ran towards the direction of the fallen building, keeping a close eye out in the skies. Atticus wouldn’t fall buildings for no good reason. Jean Nott must be there too.

To her utter surprise, it was not Atticus she stumbled upon. Instead, she caught sight of two familiar heads, one blond and one black, taking shelter in a tiny alcove created by the falling rubble.

"Sirona, Jonah, is that you?" Daphne asked hopefully.

"Daphne! What are you doing here?" Jonah asked, aghast. "Why aren’t you hiding in the palace?"

"Get her inside first," Sirona ordered, and Jonah quickly pulled her down to their hiding spot. Daphne’s eyes widened as she took a closer look at how pale Sirona was. Her eyes trailed down; half of her dress was soaked in dried blood. The stains were noticeably bigger around her neck and chest.

"Sirona, what happened? Are you alright?" Daphne asked in a panic.

"I’ve had better days," Sirona said frankly, gesturing for Daphne to keep her voice down. In a city devoid of life, Daphne’s voice stuck out like a blade of blue-colored grass. Sirona couldn’t afford Jean Nott turning his eyes their way.

Daphne nodded sheepishly, huddling even closer to her. Sirona continued to speak.

"But thanks to your husband, I’m still alive to see another day. Daphne, you should go back to the palace, it’s not safe here."

"But the both of you are here," Daphne pointed out, tilting her head curiously. "Why aren’t the both of you making your way back then?"

"I missed the timing for the evacuation," Sirona said with a shrug. "I thought they wouldn’t open the doors to let me in when the storm was raging, even if I ran back into the palace. So I might as well stay put."

"I’m here because Atticus is here," Jonah added. "Daphne, I know you must have run out to see him, but please, for your sake, you shouldn’t be here. Jean Nott is on the loose. It was him that injured Sirona, and he’s out to get you too. Atticus is dealing with him now."

As if to prove her words, there was another ominous rumble in the air, followed by yet another loud crash.

"There goes yet another building," Jonah sighed. "Frankly, Atticus is doing more damage than the storm. Daphne, you should just stay put with us."

"I have to go to Atticus," Daphne said, shaking her head. "He’s not the only one who has a score to settle with Jean Nott. And if nothing else works, I’ll be a perfectly good bait for Jean Nott to lose his mind over."

"Don’t be ridiculous!" Sirona hissed out, "Daphne, if you go out there, you’ll die."

Or worse, Jean Nott could tell Daphne the truth.

"So could Atticus. I’m going anyway," Daphne said firmly. She cast her eyes to the skies. If she focused, she could almost detect two blurry figures flitting through the sky, exchanging blows. "Don’t worry about me. I can handle it."

"Daphne!" Sirona and Jonah both called out to her, but it was futile, Daphne ducked out from the alcove and ran towards the battle, making sure to keep close to the edges. She didn’t want to draw undue attention to herself just yet. She had to get close enough to hopefully surprise Jean Nott with her abilities.

Turns out, her presence wasn’t necessary at all. By the time Daphne made her way to their battleground, Atticus had Jean Nott pinned to the floor with magic, sharpened pillars of rock gouging through his hands and feet, causing him to lie spread-eagle on the ground while Atticus pointed a sword at his neck.

With his back towards her, Atticus had not sensed her presence. But Jean Nott had raised his head incrementally, just enough to catch a glimpse of the face that haunted his dreams. The sole recipient of all his desires, his beloved Aphrodite who could outshine even the brightest star. To think she would show up in his darkest hour.

Maybe his death wouldn’t be for naught.

Jean laughed breathlessly to himself, even as Atticus pressed the tip of his sword closer to his neck, cutting through the first layer of skin.

"Any last words?" Atticus asked.

"Using my own sword against me?" Jean wheezed, "King Atticus, you truly are a thief in all ways of the word. Does your wife know you robbed the griffin of his wings?"