The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 192: Killing Gloria.

Chapter 192: Killing Gloria.

Location: Thegara, Moon Valley, Vine Castle, Dungeons.

Zaira doused herself with the scent-killer potion, the bitter liquid clinging to her skin like cold oil, concealing her scent, matching it with the scent of the moss on the walls. She pulled a dark mask over her mouth, her eyes gleaming with silent calculation. The witch told her no one should see her face, otherwise she had to kill them.

With swift, measured steps, she approached the guards from behind, unseen, unheard. A flicker of fire ignited in her palm, and the paper of the spell started burning low and hot. The shifters barely had time to sense her presence before their bodies wavered, knees buckling as they slumped to the ground in a muffled thud.

Inside her dim cell, Elaika stiffened. The plop of torches and flesh against stone echoed faintly through the silence. She stood, the chains at her ankles whispering. With cautious steps, she neared the door, heart thudding low like a warning drum. She listened.

Only the wind answered, whistling through the gutters, thin and hollow, like something mourning far above.

"Who’s there?" she called, her voice edged with fear. She hated to be alone, locked in this place.

It couldn’t be Coran. He hadn’t come near her since they locked her in this cursed corner of the castle. Her brother had abandoned her with that of a silence colder than ice.

Her so-called friends hadn’t dared show their faces, not once. Cowards, all of them, hiding behind fear while she rotted in chains.

Then came a sound. The sharp click of the lock turning broke the suffocating stillness. Elaika stepped back into the darkness, every one of her instincts bubbled on edge. She narrowed her eyes, crouching slightly, her fingers twitching, ready to strike. Something was off. The usual idle chatter of the guards was gone. No one announced a visitor. No warnings. Just silence thick enough to drown in.

The heavy door groaned open, iron scraping stone like an ancient beast stirring. Light spilled in faintly, casting long shadows across the cold floor. Zaira stepped inside but didn’t bother closing the door behind her.

"Elaika, it’s me!" she called, her voice carrying a hurried tone, too sweet to be trusted.

This bitch! What the hell was she doing here? She was the last person Elaika would trust if it was the end of the world.

Elaika didn’t move. Her silhouette flickered as she shifted her stance, claws half-drawn, the low growl of suspicion vibrating beneath her breath.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her tone dark and laced with warning.

"What do you mean?" Zaira replied quickly. "I’m here to save you."

Elaika’s lips curled into a dangerous smirk. "And how do you know I won’t kill you the moment you set me free?"

Zaira only shrugged, calm, almost amused. "Then you’ll send me to Kamin. I’d be glad."

"Why are you here?" Elaika snapped, her voice low but razor-edged. "I don’t want to be saved. I’ll be free soon enough, out there, on the front lines where I belong. I’m a warrior."

She stepped into the reach of the torchlight, shadows dancing over her face like restless spirits. Her green eyes constricted. "I couldn’t smell you. Did you kill the guards?"

Zaira shook her head calmly. "No. I just put them to sleep." She leaned forward slightly, voice softening as though delivering something precious. "Elaika... think carefully. I’ve heard whispers. Gloria is the lost daughter of Lord Alekin."

Elaika’s smirk faded into a hard, brittle frown. "What?"

"Yes," Zaira said, her eyes gleaming with swiftness. "That would make Reneira and Gloria... cousins."

She moved closer, her boot nudging the rusted shackle around Elaika’s ankle. "Let me release you."

Elaika didn’t move. "How do you know this?"

"I’ll let you meet them. But right now, just trust me," Zaira coaxed, a voice dipped in honey but laced with malice. "These people, they don’t deserve mercy. Kamin gave his life for that delicate little maiden."

A cold silence settled between them.

"Fine," Elaika muttered. "Open it. But have you thought about where we’re going?"

Zaira smiled, too wide to be kind. "We’re going to the feast in Jaigara."

Elaika tilted her head, suspicious. "For what?"

"I want you with me," Zaira said, voice low, wicked. "I want to kill Gloria... and Rail."

Elaika raised a brow, slowly rubbing her sore wrist, her expression unreadable.

"You don’t need me, Zaira," Elaika muttered, voice flat but probing.

Zaira knelt beside her, unlocking the heavy cuffs with a quiet click. "No, I don’t need you," she said, standing slowly, her silhouette etched in the flickering torchlight. "But I won’t let them kill you. Not before I’m gone. I want you to live... go out there and have a life. A normal one."

Elaika followed, barefoot and silent, her senses keen. As they passed the unconscious guards, her nose twitched, faint traces of magic lingered in the air, not thick but like damp smoke.

"Magic?" she asked, quietly.

Zaira nodded without looking at her. "Little tricks aren’t forbidden."

Elaika exhaled through her teeth. This girl... She was actually planning to kill Gloria?

They turned into a narrow corridor that funneled into a forgotten tunnel. The passage was cold, damp, and choked with roots. Soon they emerged into a low cave, where sacks of clothes and supplies waited, tucked under the stone like contraband.

"Change your clothes," Zaira instructed, tossing a bundle to the ground. "And take these. This spell lets you alter your shape. This potion masks your scent. Reneira taught it to one of the healer students."

Elaika stared at the items, unmoved. "I don’t want that shit."

Zaira rolled her eyes with a sharp huff. "Suit yourself. But at least use this," she insisted, pressing a small box into Elaika’s palm. "Your brother isn’t stupid, he’ll find you fast. And if you run into anyone from the River Clan, they won’t hesitate. They’re just waiting for an excuse to slit your throat."

With that, she turned, grabbed her sack, and strode toward the mouth of the cave. The wind whistled from outside, night had fallen, thick and moonless.

"I’m coming with you, to the feast!" Elaika said.

Zaira didn’t answer. She didn’t even look back. She didn’t have to. She already knew Elaika would follow. This girl, this fierce, wounded girl, hated nothing more than being left behind.

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