The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 152: Sunkiath’s meal.

Chapter 152: Sunkiath’s meal.

Thunder rumbled across the heavy sky, a low growl that seemed to shake the very bones of the earth. Yesterday, Kai had buried his concerns about the immortal weapon deep within himself, masking them to soothe his wife’s heart. But today, she had gone to seek counsel alone with her aunt. And to his surprise, Azrael didn’t return yet. He knew him enough to say he wouldn’t follow unnecessary matters.

Agara had arrived only moments ago, striding straight to the King’s hall, his presence dark and menacing with fury. Without ceremony, he delivered the Fae King’s chilling message:

"My granddaughter must come to me. One scratch on her, and King Benkin — along with the seven kingdoms — will pay the price of any possible harm."

The message was both a blessing and a curse. Kai didn’t dare dwell on what the Fae King might unleash upon the human realms. Knowing that Ren carried three shades of Fae magic would ignite a frenzy, everyone would seek her, covet her. Or some magic absorbers would want to feed on her. Hell no, he wouldn’t allow it.

The Fae King, no doubt, was elated that his granddaughter had mastered beasts in a way no one else could. A power like hers could spark wars... or end them.

Later, Kai brought Agara to their chambers. Informing him about the recent events. Azrael was fast in collecting information, so why did he not return? Was he still in this mortal world?

"Where is he, then?" Agara demanded, his patience fraying. He was done lingering in this suffocating room, thinking that rascal Luther might have sent his own brother into heavens forever.

Without hesitation, Kai formed a portal, its dark, shimmering surface humming with energy. "Let’s wait for him in the dragon field, he can find us wherever we go," he said.

Agara didn’t need to be told twice. The thought of witnessing how the dragon keeper trained the monstrous Sunkiath thrilled him.

As they darted toward the dragon field, Agara’s mouth fell open. The place was colossal, an endless, barren expanse sprawled at the foot of a smoldering volcano, where the air hung heavy with the sharp tang of sulfur.

Despite the rain, the land breathed heat, the cracked earth exuding a restless, searing warmth.

Sunkiath was about to feast. Five fat sheep stood clustered together, awaiting their fate the moment the beast descended.

Kai’s gaze lifted to the storm-churned sky, where the clouds twisted into a violent whirlwind. From the heart of it, a radiant shape burst forth, a dragon of molten gold, his wings spanning the heavens. With majestic power, Sunkiath circled once, then dove toward the flock.

In a swift, brutal strike, he seized a sheep, his talons piercing deep. Blood misted into the rain-soaked air.

Landing on a flat slab of stone, the dragon laid down his prey, stepped back, and unleashed a torrent of fire from his jaws. Flames engulfed the carcass, roasting it in seconds.

"He’s wild," Kai muttered, half in awe, half in admiration.

"Like his rider," Agara admitted, his voice low.

"Dragon riders are often cruel. The nature of dragons corrupts their very essence, it is inevitable, I must say. The Fae studies proved as much. Worse still, the affliction can be contagious, passed through the sacred bond they share with their beasts."

Agara’s expression darkened as he spoke. He had spent lifetimes trying to heal riders infected by the dragons’ blight, but every attempt had ended the same. The riders perished, consumed in fire, alongside their cursed companions.

"I won’t let my wife bind herself to a dragon," Kai growled, the thought slicing into him. "A griffin is safer, perhaps not as strong, but far less dangerous!" He prayed Ren would understand the risk when the time came.

"Whether you want it or not," Azrael’s voice cut through the tension like a dagger, "she will have to claim beasts, as many as she can bind."

Something stirred deep within Kai at those words, something dark and alarming. His anger, rarely unshackled, began to simmer just beneath the surface.

Azrael’s next words landed like coals in his chest.

"And you and I might not be there when she faces the harsh choices of the coming dark age."

Sunkiath tore into his meal with savage delight, growling low with pleasure, but none of them were watching him anymore. The dragon’s brutality paled in comparison to the weight of Azrael’s words.

"You found something, didn’t you?" Kai asked, his voice strained.

Azrael gave a grave nod and stepped into the space between them, the storm winds tugging at his cloak.

"Agara, I know you don’t like me," Azrael began, his tone stripped of all pretense, "but if something happens in this battle, if my brother and I fall, you are the one we trust to protect her."

A heavy silence fell, dense and suffocating.

"You’re scaring us, Azrael. What is going on?" Agara demanded, his unease bleeding through.

Azrael’s eyes flashed with a fire that no rain could extinguish.

"Nimoieth!" he cried. "She’s not completely dead!"

The revelation hung in the air like a blade poised to fall.

"What? That’s pure nonsense! Her soul was burned!" Agara snapped, his voice slicing through the thick air.

But Kai said nothing. He could feel the weight of Azrael’s truth pressing against him like a hand on his chest.

Azrael, the one among all the Demon God’s children who had feared nothing in all his life, the gods bear witness, carried this terror like a wound.

Nimoieth had always been his weakness. Even the mere mention of her name soured his spirit.

The Sorcerer Saint had broken him once, twisting his mind with dark magic until he was little more than a weapon, a killer crafted for Nimoieth’s will. She loved to make her sister cry.

It was only by the grace of their father’s intervention that Azrael had been saved, dragged back from the brink before he was lost forever.

"Tell us everything," Kai demanded, his voice iron-hard.

Azrael’s gaze drifted across the barren field, the ashen soil stretching endlessly before them, but his mind was far away, trapped in the icy grip of memory.

He told them what he had seen in Deagara, that cursed, frozen city.

"Did you visit the Witch Island where Nimoieth was stabbed?" Agara pressed, suspicion sharpening his words.

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