The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 119: Historians’ Tower V

Chapter 119: Historians’ Tower V

The Peacock Guardian of books shook his head solemnly. "Nothing burns it. If Lutherieth already holds the knowledge to create monsters, then this notebook might be the key to ending this twisted cycle, at its root. I promise I’ll keep it hidden."

Ren hesitated, then gave a small nod. She wasn’t sure she trusted anyone here, not completely. So she wrote the copy in ancient Fae, a language only the Saints and the high Fae could read. Her grandfather, she knew, still had ties to the heavens. She clung to that hope, threading it into a plan she prayed would work.

But one thing was certain, leaving this fatal knowledge in the hands of mortals was not an option.

"You’re writing it in that language?" Arcane asked.

"Yes. It’s better this way," Ren replied, her eyes never leaving the page. "If Luther or any madman gets their hands on it later, they won’t be able to read it."

"You don’t trust me," the man said with a faint smile.

"This isn’t about trust, Historian Arcane. It’s about war. And if the fire reaches this place, Luther will come here first, to see what you and Queen Seraphina managed to preserve."

He nodded in understanding, offering no argument. All he could do was silently admire her caution and sharp mind.

Hours passed. They shared some dry food in a large, open area, deliberately chosen because no books were kept there.

"In two days, you’ll leave for the meeting in Alvonia. Why am I staying behind?" Arkilla asked, her nerves frayed by the thought. The question had clearly been eating at her.

"You need to watch over Ogain in my absence. He can speak to me now, even across vast distances. But we need to train him, just in case he must aid Sunkiath in battle."

"I’m useless, then. Ogain hasn’t liked me since what happened in the training hall," Arkilla muttered, voice heavy with guilt.

Ren lowered her cup and let out a quiet sigh. Before she could respond, Orgeve suddenly stood, his chair scraping back.

"Fine. I’ll go with you," he snapped. His voice came out hoarse, brittle.

"I don’t think his highness wants you to come," Ren said softly, watching the way Orgeve avoided Arkilla’s eyes.

Orgeve frowned and left the table, "So I have to read."

"He doesn’t want to leave you alone," Ren told Arkilla.

"I don’t give a damn what he wants," Arkilla snapped. "All I care about is that if they so much as scratch you, I’ll feel it, and I’ll be stuck here, fuming, waiting for you to come back." She shot to her feet, eyes blazing. "I’m going back to reading. And I am coming with you to Alvonia. You’re taking Gloria, so you’ll take me too."

Ren slouched in her seat, her expression weary. Neither of them ever listened.

"She sincerely cares about you," Mr. Biken said gently.

"She does," Ren murmured. "And that terrifies me. People who love you are always the ones most willing to throw themselves in harm’s way. I don’t want that..."

Her heart pounded faster. Nimoieth’s notebook still lingered in her thoughts, the pages replaying in her mind like a curse. If this much knowledge had been locked away, how much more had Luther uncovered? How many creatures had he already crafted?

It would take her three days of nonstop effort to transcribe the entire notebook. She couldn’t afford that now. Later, With a tight breath, she entrusted the remaining pages to Master Arcane, begging him to seal them away somewhere secure, somewhere not even time could trespass.

By morning, they gathered outside. Orgeve and Arkilla were the first to speak, sharing everything they had uncovered about Lutherieth, each revelation more unsettling than the last. Then, Master Benkin stepped forward with something even more crucial.

"Lutherieth is a serpent shifter, just like his mother, Lilliana," he began. "But he’s far more dangerous. He can kill someone and take their form, perfectly. There’s only one way to identify him among the guests: bee balm. He’s severely allergic to it. Even the scent makes him weak. A witch who once was in love with him poisoned him with bee balm herb and took him to bed." He spoke out casually. But how could someone fall in love with that bastard?

Ren froze, the blood draining from her face. Even Kai and Rail, who had spent years as his captives, didn’t know this. That monster had buried his truths so deeply. So many masks. So many layers.

Her breath hitched. The Dreamland. It all rushed back into her mind. Azrael. He had known. He hadn’t said it aloud, but he had told her, in his own twisted way. He’d taken Kaisun’s form not just to test her... but to guide her. He was helping.

But why not just tell her outright?

Was it forbidden? A divine or demonic law? Or did he simply refuse to interfere directly in the fate of mortals?

The question sat heavy in her chest, with no clear answer. Only a growing certainty that time was running out, and Lutherieth was far more dangerous than any of them had realized.

"Swear to my name that only the four of us know about this." Ren urged them.

"Why?" Arkilla questioned.

"This is a command, Arkilla. If we tell the others, and they catch the wrong one, he can easily kidnap me. I’ll have to reveal him to Azrael."

"Then take me so I will keep your secret." Arkilla threatened.

"Good gods! I don’t have time to argue. Fine, you come."

"I swear that I won’t tell anybody."

Org and Mr. Biken vowed to keep the words. However, Org wasn’t happy that Arkilla was acting so recklessly.

They got in the carriage waiting for them and hit the road. Near the bridge linking them to the castle, Orgeve took a deep breath and shouted, "Stop!"

The carriage driver stopped instantly.

"What happened?" Ren asked.

"I smell blood!"

Ren sharpened her senses, and there she felt him. "And I feel Shadow!"

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