The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 240: Rare herbs

Chapter 240: Rare herbs

Agara had healed the King of Alvonia and drawn out the poison, but its venomous impact was severe. Though his life was spared, the damage to his spine was irreversible, an affliction even Agara’s formidable magic could not mend a spinal cord.

Ren clasped the King’s hand, her voice heavy with sorrow. "You won’t be able to walk."

King Benkin flashed a crooked grin, defiant despite the pain. "But I can still fly," he quipped. Yet the humor in his voice fell flat, swallowed by the weight of the moment.

Reneira turned to Gloria, her tone brisk but her eyes soft. "Take him back to Jaigara. I’ll visit him soon."

Without hesitation, Gloria sprang into action, calling for Sunkiath’s aid. But before the dragon could even stir, Kai stepped forward, summoning a swirling cloud of shadow. It enveloped King Benkin like a protective cloak, lifting him gently into the air and placing him onto the saddle with spectral grace.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Gloria said, bowing respectfully to Kai before climbing onto Sunkiath’s back. She settled in behind King Benkin, her gaze briefly following him, drawn to the young vampire, Hector, who stood quietly beneath the shadow of the dragon’s wings.

With a powerful beat of his wings, Sunkiath rose into the sky, slicing through the clouds like a blade through silk.

Kaisun turned toward Sigaros, his expression firm. "Return to the Witch Island and claim your throne. Once your realm is calm, come back for the peace treaty."

Sigaros inclined his head in solemn agreement and stepped toward the shimmering portal Kai summoned, its swirling center pulsing with dark energy.

Just before stepping through, the wizard paused and turned back, his voice low with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, go now! Agara is going with you," Kai urged, urgency sharpening his voice. "The castle’s magical barrier is weakening, you could be attacked by Phoria’s forces at any moment."

Sigaros gave a faint smile, calm in the face of danger. "I appreciate your concern. I’ll write to you."

With a final nod, the wizard and Agara vanished through the portal, its shimmering light folding in behind them. As the magic faded, Kai turned toward the young vampire, still shackled by the Fae King’s binding spell, glowing blue runes etched across the chains that held him fast.

He stepped in front of him, eyes narrowing. "It seems you’ve got a lot to say."

But the vampire said nothing. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon, cold and distant, as if Kai wasn’t even there.

Reneira joined her husband, her voice gentle but resolute. "Let’s return. Our people need to go home."

Kai gave a quiet nod and seized Hector’s arm, forcing him forward. The vampire didn’t resist but moved stiffly, the chains clanging with every step.

"Don’t even think of running," the Alpha King growled. "That chain will burn you to ash."

Hector offered no resistance as he walked beside them through the shadow pathway. So this was it, the pathway that the sorcerers dreamed to see. The enchanted chains linked softly with each step he took, getting heavy. Yet, his mind rushed far from the path ahead, his eyes kept drifting toward Reneira. She was the woman everyone had fought to possess, the one spoken of in whispers and war councils, the host for that saint witch. And yet... she seemed so ordinary. Gentle, even. There was a quiet softness to her, something that tugged at a distant memory. She reminded him of his mother, kind eyes, tender voice, the same aura of fragile strength.

Far away, back in Oak Village, the shifters lifted their eyes to the sky. A massive figure cast a fleeting shadow over the treetops, Ogain was circling overhead, his wings slicing through the wind.

"They’re here!" Arkilla shouted to Elaika as she scrambled down from the watchtower, her boots thudding against the wooden steps.

Moments later, a portal shimmered open in the village clearing, and figures began to emerge from its glowing mouth.

"Your Majesty!" Siamon cried, rushing forward, panic tightening his features. "Are you alright?"

Kai’s voice was steady but grim. "They used a demon-killer formation on me."

Siamon’s face went pale, horror flickering in his eyes. "How?"

"Search his clothes," Reneira commanded, her voice sharp with authority. "There’s an immense surge of dark magic radiating from him. I want him watched, day and Night, Butler Siamon."

As she helped her wounded husband toward the stone barracks, her expression softened, but her mind remained alert. Kai leaned heavily on her, his tattered armor streaked with blood and ash. He needed clean clothes, a moment’s rest, and a breath away from this frozen nightmare before they could even think of leaving.

Siamon approached the vampire with practiced caution. He rifled through Hector’s dark robe and quickly pulled out a strange, weathered book. Its leather cover pulsed faintly beneath his fingers. He opened it, only to find page after page... blank.

"All blank," he muttered, brow furrowed. He turned to Rail, who stood nearby with a wary glare fixed on the prisoner. "Watch him closely. I’ll deliver this to our Luna Queen."

Hector narrowed his eyes, gaze flicking toward Reneira. How did she sense the dark magic? The thought gnawed at him, but he quickly dismissed it.

He didn’t care about her. None of them mattered. Not now. The King was still alive, and as long as he drew breath, Hector would not rest. He would live for one reason only: to kill that man.

...

One week later...

Back in Thegara, Ren devoted every waking hour she found or better to say he gave her a chance to heal her husband. The scars from the demon-killer formation had faded, the physical damage seemingly undone, but something deeper lingered. At night, Kai writhed in his sleep, silent cries caught in his throat. It was as if something unseen gnawed at the edges of his soul, devouring him from within. His aura was heavy.

Rain tapped against the laboratory window in a slow, steady rhythm. The droplets steamed faintly against the glass, blurring the world beyond in a haze of gray and gold. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and crushed petals, Ren was blending a custom cologne for Kai, hoping the familiar comfort might bring him some peace.

Outside, her husband was away at the southern harbors, meeting with his generals. He was with General Eric today, reviewing troubling reports on the vampires’ strange, accelerated reproduction, yet another puzzle in a kingdom that refused to rest. They had to find out if those lords had bed women and had children.

As Ren adjusted the mixture on her table, a subtle ripple in the air announced a presence. Agara materialized beside her, silent and watchful, his expression unreadable.

"Did you summon me, little niece?" Agara’s voice was cool, his usual mask of calm in place.

Ren didn’t look up from the vial she was filling, her tone sharp with quiet accusation. "Yes. There’s something wrong with my husband, and all of you are hiding it from me."

Agara let out a weary sigh, as if he’d expected this moment but dreaded it all the same. "Is that all? I thought you’d summoned me to speak about Nimoieth’s second notebook." There had been hope, faint and fading, that she might unlock its secrets.

Ren finally met his eyes. "I read it. The second diary is filled with dangerous enchantments, dark, ancient magic. It speaks of portals... necromancy... and spells to raise the dead."

Agara’s expression faltered. His eyes widened, and for a heartbeat, true fear flashed across his face. Raising the dead... If Azrael learned of this, it would shake the heavens.

He said nothing, watching as she calmly poured the golden liquid into a glass vial, her hands steady despite the storm behind her words.

"I’m listening, Uncle," she said softly but seriously. "I want to help my husband, but I can’t do that if you keep me in the dark."

Agara stared at her, defeated. He knew that look in her eyes, steel wrapped in silk. She wouldn’t release him until he told her the truth.

"Why not ask him yourself?" Agara deflected, keeping his voice neutral. He was doing everything he could not to intrude on the fragile space between husband and wife.

Ren’s glare flared through him like a wildfire. "This is about the Gods’ prison, isn’t it? Saint Elcasor did something to my husband."

The sudden flicker in Agara’s eyes, too fast to hide, told her everything.

"Oh..." she breathed, her voice dropping with realization.

Agara remained silent, but that one crack in his composure was enough.

Ren arched a brow, refusing to let the moment pass. "So I was right. Now that I know, tell me. What is it exactly? Poison?"

Agara shook his head slowly. "No. Not poison. His aura... it’s polluted, with bloodlust."

Ren’s breath caught. "Vampire bloodlust?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Lust was lust, whether for blood or flesh, both could become insatiable, uncontrollable. And Kai... he had been suppressing it all this time. A dreadful thought clawed its way into her mind.

Was he poisoning Shadow again?

"He’s poisoning himself?" Reneira’s voice rose sharper than she intended, the shock spilling out uncontrollably.

The sudden intrusion of footsteps announced Arkilla’s arrival. "Ah, Master Agara, when did you get here? Gods! My heart nearly stopped hearing that..."

But her words caught in her throat when she saw the faint shimmer of tears in Reneira’s eyes.

Agara’s expression softened, tinged with sorrow. "I’m sorry, Reneira. But it’s true. This corruption is unlike any other, it can infect you... and your babies. He has no choice but to endure it."

Reneira sagged heavily into her chair, shutting her eyes as the weight of his words crashed over her. What kind of magic, what rare herb could possibly cleanse such a deep wound in his soul?

She inhaled deeply, steadying the storm of fear and frustration inside her.

"What herbs do I need to heal him?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper but resolute.

Agara’s face darkened with hesitation. "Rare ones. Too rare, perhaps. And if you attempt to heal him like this..." His voice dropped to a grave warning. "I’m afraid I can’t let that happen."

He couldn’t bear to see history repeat itself, the tragedy of Anarya was still pricking his heart.