The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 161: Get out.

Chapter 161: Get out.

The coppery tang of blood coated Gloria’s tongue, it was thick and tasted metallic. Her vision faltered, the pillars warped, the throne rippled like a mirage, the entire perimeter bending in and out of focus as if the castle itself were breathing.

She didn’t answer Azrael. There was no strength left for words.

Instead, she crawled, knees scraping, palms slipping in her own blood, until her body crossed the threshold of the circle. Her footing failed more than once, legs buckling like broken branches, but she pressed forward with blind determination, just following the light. She had to reach the Spike. Had to...before her body gave out or her mind dissolved into the pain.

The warmth inside the circle wrapped around her like a sacred breath, a jarring contrast to the frozen nightmare outside. It didn’t feel real. In this cruel, blood-soaked hell, how could something so divine still exist?

The Spike stood at the center, hovering, glowing faintly, haloed in golden motes of light that shimmered like holy embers. They swirled gently around it, casting a peaceful glow that touched her soul, the caress of light was so soft and deep, like lullabies from a time she couldn’t remember.

She stretched out her trembling, blood-streaked hands. Fingers curled around the Spike, warm, solid, powerful.

Then the world fell away.

Darkness opened like a blooming flower and swallowed her whole.

...

In the courtyard, far from the circle’s sanctity, chaos reigned.

Kai fought with blistering resolve, his blade dancing through ash and bone, setting fire behind. The ground was a canvas of carnage, streaked with blood and the smoldering remains of enemies. Sunkiath, perched like a waiting god atop the wall, unleashed arcs of flame that couldn’t scorch the sacred grounds but incinerated the troops, scaling the castle walls, and burning them to cinders before they could lay a claw on Kai.

Kai’s blade cleaved clean through a vampire’s neck, the creature’s head tumbling through the air like a severed fruit. As the body hit the ground with a sickening thud, Kai turned, and his heart dropped.

Gloria collapsed.

Azrael moved toward her, his hand already reaching down, but Kai was faster. He shoved the prince aside with a glare that could have drawn blood.

"Don’t touch her," he growled, his voice raw with fear and fury.

Bending swiftly, he scooped her limp, blood-soaked form into his arms. She was so light. Hardly alive. Her body was battered and still warm, but if they delayed even a heartbeat longer, she wouldn’t stay that way.

"Move! We’re leaving!" Kai roared.

His voice cut through the courtyard’s chaos like a whip. Rail and Master Agara pulled back immediately, retreating under the protective cover Azrael provided. He moved like a shadow made of fire and steel, slashing through the encroaching horde with brutal efficiency.

Once they reached the outer courtyard, the wind howled through the jagged breach in the ice walls, an exit carved in desperation. Kai, blood-slicked and panting, extended his hand. A portal burst open, swirling like a violet wound in the air.

They crossed through.

Above, Sunkiath launched skyward with a thunderous beat of wings, ascending into the storm-dark heavens. But before the dragon followed his master, he circled once, a predator scenting rot. His glowing eyes locked on a figure that materialized near the ruined throne.

The Lord Vampire.

Tall, pale as bleached bone, white hair billowing in the wind. His aura was poisonous and thick, and he raised a hand as though to command or cast, or perhaps simply observe.

From beyond the veil, the armored King of Alvonia’s voice rang out like a blade unsheathed.

"Burn him, Sunkiath."

The dragon obeyed.

With a deafening screech, Sunkiath unleashed a torrent of flame that lit the sky like a falling sun. Fire poured down with divine fury, heat warping the air, melting stone, searing the very bones of the castle. The vampire tried to flee, darting, vanishing, reappearing, but Sunkiath was faster. He chased him through the sky, with relentless, wrathful storm-given wings.

There would be no escape. Not for that filth.

Sunkiath ascended into the heavens, wings cutting through clouds like blades through silk. The bloodstained ruins of the vampire fortress vanished beneath him, swallowed by mist and distance. Above the storm-banks, the world opened, an endless ocean of sky tinged with gold. The sun bathed the dragon’s scorched scales in a pale, godly light.

"Sunkiath," the King murmured, his voice low but resolute, "take us to the Fae Realm. I must speak with King Xakiel."

The dragon veered slightly, soaring toward the distant horizon, but the beat of his wings faltered for a moment. Pain pulsed through their bond, sharp, raw. The King’s brows furrowed. He sensed it before he saw it.

Sunkiath’s tail dragged, scorched, and torn. Thick dark Blood trickled in thin ribbons down his scales. One of the giant vampires had clawed him when he perched on the wall. He was wounded and bleeding. For the first time.

’Let me grab a bite first,’ the dragon growled, his voice a deep rumble that echoed in the King’s mind like thunder rolling through the stone.

The King’s jaw clenched. He gazed at the crimson streaks smearing his dragon’s once-pristine hide.

"Yes," he said grimly. "But make it quick. Look at what those monsters did to you. You’ve never bled before."

And that terrified him more than anything.

~*~

Back in Jaigara — the capital city of Alvonia.

Ren stood frozen, unable to believe what her eyes beheld. Gloria lay sprawled across the floor of the chamber, her blood-slicked fingers locked around a dull, lifeless Spike. Not a glimmer of gold. Not even a flicker. She was doing her best to heal her.

"Why doesn’t it sparkle?" Azrael asked, his voice flat, too calm, too clinical as if the girl’s condition were an afterthought.

Agara turned to him with fire blazing in his glare. "Is that all you care about?" he barked. "Where is the King? And the dragon?"

Azrael shrugged, unconcerned, his mouth curling with lazy disdain. "They fled. The dragon was wounded, likely off hunting before it fell from the sky."

Before anyone could react, Rail– his wounds fully mended, strength flooding back into his limbs – stormed forward. His eyes burned red with fury, each step pounding like a war drum. He charged at Azrael, fist drawn back to shatter the bastard’s jaw...

"You fucking bastard..."

But Kai moved like a shadow, intercepting him in an instant. He seized Rail’s arm, halting the blow just inches from Azrael’s smug face.

"Believe me," Kaisun said, his voice hoarse, teeth clenched, "I want to beat the fuck out of him too. But don’t forget who he is. He can end your life only by thinking about it."

Kai’s eyes narrowed steel and stormed behind them. "Don’t waste your soul on someone like him."

Rail collapsed to his knees, his breath ragged. Defeat poured off him like blood from an open wound. He had failed to protect her. The weight of it crushed him, an ache no healing could mend, no time could dull.

"All of you, get the hell out of my chamber," Ren snapped, her voice sharp as a blade drawn in rage. "I’m healing her. Stop fighting."

Fury surged beneath her skin, barely contained. She didn’t want to look at any of them. Didn’t want their excuses or regrets. That could wait. What mattered now, the only thing that mattered was keeping Gloria alive.

Azrael gave a casual shrug, his tone detached. "Take care of your cousin. And the Spike. We’ll explain everything later."

Then he vanished into thin air as if he hadn’t just left wreckage behind him.

"Cousin?" Ren murmured, stunned, but she shoved the thought aside. She couldn’t afford distractions.

Blood slicked her hands as she peeled the fabric from Gloria’s shredded back. Magic pulsed faintly around the wounds. She pressed her palms to them, lips tight with focus.

Arkilla stepped close to Rail, scowling, her voice cold. "Everyone...Out."

Kai lingered at the threshold, trying to break past the wall Ren had erected between them. But this time, she’d sealed it with an iron will, blocking their link.

She didn’t want comfort. She didn’t want company.

She wanted Gloria back.

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