The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 73: The Devil’s Heart Flower

Chapter 73: The Devil’s Heart Flower

She swallowed hard, struggling to contain her anguish for this young woman lying before her. The girl was clad in a wedding gown; it must have been her special day, cruelly ruined by the Lord vampire’s vicious attack. The injustice of it twisted painfully within Ren’s chest as she thought they were transforming what should have been a joyous occasion into a nightmare painted in blood.

"Our past attempts failed; the soldiers’ hearts stopped after they succumbed to the hallucinations induced by the fever. But this girl hasn’t started hallucinating yet. We must swiftly gather every possible remedy to reduce the fever. If we can eliminate it, she has a chance to survive," Ren urged.

Her knowledge of this fever was limited. She had only studied medication for three short years, her training abruptly halted when she was brought here.

"The strongest herb capable of combating fever is the Jomen flower, which blooms only in the harshest winters and loses its effects if not used instantly and fresh. Unfortunately, it’s extremely rare," Healer Rigo explained somberly.

Ren nodded slightly, but her thoughts drifted elsewhere, memories guiding her to the temple stairs. She vividly recalled descending those steps, her gaze catching on a peculiar sight in the cursed garden at the mountain’s base. Amidst lifeless vines and frozen earth had blossomed a radiant, purple flower, its vibrant glow defiantly alive amidst decay. Could she somehow retrieve it?

Turning resolutely to Agara, she declared, "Please, take me to the Cave Temple."

Agara shook his head, cautious yet curious. "Why?"

"I know of an herb capable of purifying infected blood. Perhaps it can even kill this fever. Please, let me try."

"What herb is it, exactly?" Healer Rigo asked warily.

"The Devil’s Heart," she answered softly. "The flower resembles a human heart and radiates a strange glow. Its leaves are poisonous, but the petals can extract infection and neutralize toxins." Ren hesitated, then continued earnestly in her mind, ’I’ve only read of it in myths, but the drawing matched what I saw. And considering who my husband is, why shouldn’t this flower be real?’

The healer’s expression tightened skeptically. "Luna Reneira, that flower is only a legend."

"I saw it myself, at the mountain’s base," Ren insisted firmly, her voice edged with determination. "I won’t let this girl die. If you refuse to guide me, then I’ll go with Arkilla and Rail."

She spun sharply, preparing to leave, but Agara grasped her arm, stopping her. His touch was gentle but unwelcome, causing her to frown slightly. He quickly released her.

"I’ll take you there," he relented quietly.

Outside, Rail and Arkilla were locked in a heated debate about the Alpha King and Axe, pushing Arkilla’s patience to its limit. Siamon suddenly intervened, interrupting their quarrel with an air of authority.

"Accompany Luna Reneira, and keep a vigilant watch over her," he ordered sharply, frustration clear in his voice. "For fuck’s sake, stop arguing and protect her. If she returns with even a scratch, I’ll personally end you both."

Arkilla stared at Siamon with suspicion. Something had been increasingly strange about him lately, disappearing without explanation for days, returning only to issue threats. His demeanor was unsettling, almost foreign to her, not that calm figure she knew.

"Where exactly are we heading?" Arkilla asked warily.

"To the Cave Temple, through the Shadow Gate. Fetch your weapons. The souls lurking in the shadows will sense her raw magic, so be incredibly careful," Siamon instructed.

Arkilla and Rail exchanged puzzled glances before sprinting off to the weapons room, quickly gearing up.

Agara soon shaped a shadow portal in the cave in the back garden, and Ren stared, baffled. This was how her husband had moved so effortlessly, always appearing and vanishing without warning. Arkilla clearly knew about this; her expression remained calm, unsurprised. Yet even this revelation paled in comparison to how heavily armed Rail and Arkilla returned, literally to the teeth. Arkilla wore a fitted leather combat suit, two swords sheathed across her back, blades, daggers, and shuriken strapped tightly around her waist and legs, and her bow held in her hand, arrows in the quiver on her back.

"Are all these weapons truly necessary?" Ren questioned, incredulously. The cursed garden might be dangerous, but weapons felt useless against madness and curses, possibly even hazardous.

"Last time, His Highness traveled with us. Now we’re crossing a freaky shadow portal, Your Grace," Rail explained nervously, clearly uneasy about stepping into the unknown.

"Stay close to me," Agara cautioned Ren gently, leading them into darkness.

A chill wind rushed at them, pulling at their clothes and hair. Ren strained her eyes, seeing nothing but a narrow gray path suspended within complete darkness. Fear surged through her, and she instinctively gripped Agara’s sleeve tightly. This wasn’t mere fear, it was terror, compounded by whispers swirling around her, voices filled with chilling curiosity.

’His Bride!’

’What is she?’

’I smell such powerful magic! Tasty’ one slurred.

Their whispers echoed eerily. Arkilla’s bowstring creaked as she drew back an arrow carved with protective runes, ready to defend against any aggressive spirit.

A ghostly touch brushed Ren’s hair, giving her goosebumps. ’Her scent is familiar,’ a female voice whispered intimately close. Rail raised his weapon swiftly, pointing at something Ren couldn’t see clearly.

Agara intensified the light from his palm, illuminating their surroundings. Screeches filled the darkness, and Arkilla released her arrow instantly. Ren’s breath seized as she locked eyes with a horrifying, eyeless specter—nothing but snapping fangs lunging at her. Her knees weakened abruptly; Agara caught her swiftly, scooping her into his arms and rushing forward while Arkilla shot arrows and caused more screeches.

Only then did Ren realize she hadn’t been breathing, her mind momentarily frozen by terror. This was the Shadow Realm—a place devoid of warmth, filled instead with madness, darkness, and predatory hunger.

"Breathe, My Lady," Arkilla urged gently, tracing soothing circles on Ren’s back. "We shouldn’t have used this cursed gate." Nearby, Rail retched violently, equally affected. Strangely, Arkilla remained resilient, her composure steady.

Gradually, Ren’s breathing steadied, though her thoughts remained chaotic. After an entire month spent in the peaceful monotony of Thegara, today had plunged her suddenly back into a whirlwind of darkness and fear, a chilling reminder of just how quickly everything could change.

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