CHAPTER 469: ATONE FOR SINS (3)

The terrible scream of guilt, disbelief, and anger that erupted from Ash was met with no sympathy. No one knew the specifics, but the visuals showed that the thorny ancient curse had seemingly been moved from son to mother.

Simon had his first breath of relief in what felt like forever, but it had only been a few minutes.

The head guard still stood by Simon’s crumbled body as the last of the thorns disappeared into the ground and towards their new target, Ash.

Ash’s anguish was only met with scorn. The betrayal felt by the Fae folks at that time was immeasurable, and even when Ash rushed around trying to avoid the thorns gripping her, there was nowhere to run.

She had pleaded to take this pain for her son, but the reality proved that those were just empty words.

This revelation from Syla and his queen was just too much for the Faes to handle.

At this moment, the old Fae elders were struck dumb.

Brian had repeatedly told them and even hinted. Though he had only said that Roman was still alive, some of the details he had brought up started to make more sense at that moment. There was no room for regret, for they could not turn back the hands of time.

The Timeless Witch had a smugness around her as if she had done something that needed a pat on the back. This was true, but who was going to do that in this moment of chaos where the governed wanted to tear the couple apart?

Guilty, Syla could not refute anything as he had ’said’ those words himself. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling. But it was not from fear but from the sheer weight of his long-suppressed resentment. Even after Roman’s death, Syla still could not understand why.

The man on the throne was Roman’s child in any way that he looked at. So why did Roman get the best side of everything? Even his son could sit on the throne before he had been coronated. The power that emanated from him was potent, unlike anything Syla had ever felt!

Syla’s eyes, wild and unfocused, darted around as if searching for something.... Someone .... to validate his fury.

Then, Prince Syla snapped.

Even his beloved in that state was not enough to pull him out of whatever was going on with him. A manic grin stretched across his face.

"So, what if I committed that crime? What if I killed him?" he spat, his voice rising, cracking under the madness. "How could Roman get everything? The power, the admiration... even the woman I loved!" Syla’s fists clenched as he staggered forward and almost out of his wheelchair, but even that did not bother him. His eyes gleamed with something unhinged.

"We were from the same family!" Syla bellowed, the words trembling with years of festering hatred. "What made him better than me?! What gave him the right?!" His laughter burst out suddenly, sharp and twisted, echoing through the stunned silence.

Ian stood up and placed Shelby on the throne he had just vacated. Shelby did not make a word of protest this time. Even with this, Ian sent a silent message to Currey. He never looked at Murray even once, making Murray’s guilt of the near-death of his mistress even more prominent.

Currey patted his brother on the shoulder and moved silently to stand at the base of the stairs on which the throne was. That was as far as he could go.

Ian kissed Shelby’s forehead softly and then started down the stairs towards the deranged Fae, who was supposedly his uncle.

"Hahahaha...." Syla, oblivious to the oncoming danger, was lost in his own hysteria. Never did he think that his sins would be made so public by no one but himself.

His body shook as if he were possessed by his own bitterness, his laughter drowning in hysteria.

And then, Syla’s face crumpled.

His breath hitched, his hands trembled, and for just a fleeting moment, the weight of everything crashed down on him. But the madness wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t let go.

Ian took the final steps till he was a few feet away from his deranged uncle.

A hush had fallen over the gathered, with the exception of Ash’s tormenting screams and Simon’s whimpers. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on, but the Syla, deranged, broken, beyond reason... did not care.

Just when they thought that nothing else could be worse than what they had heard, Syla’s lips curled into something that might have been a smirk if not for the sheer insanity dancing in his eyes. He tilted his head, looking at no one and everyone at once.

"Do you want to know...?" he whispered, then he laughed, too loud, too unstable.

"Do you want to know how I ended him?"

Some flinched. Others swallowed hard.

’He wouldn’t dare... would he?’

No one answered.

But Syla took their silence as an invitation.

"Oh, it was..." His fingers twitched as if reliving the moment as if feeling the warmth of the blood that had once coated his hands. "It was a masterpiece," he murmured, almost in awe. Then, his eyes widened, and the grin stretched .... too wide, too unnatural.

The details poured from his mouth, gory, vile, stomach-turning. What shocked them, even more, was Ash’s role in it? How could a female so beautiful be so sinister?

As the words poured out, any such sympathy for her dwindled to nothing. In fact, some wished that they could break her limb for a limb!

Even among faes, creatures of ancient power, who had seen wars, plagues, and the wrath of the gods themselves... it was too much.

’How much had Roman suffered at the hands of his brother and fiancée?’

The old Faes who had pushed for this marriage initially, felt tremendous guilt at this.

’If only...’

However, that was long past.

The details poured out on the ambush after Roman had returned from one of his mysterious trips.

Some turned away, horrified. Others stared, frozen, unwillingly entranced by his unravelling mind.

Then, a shudder rippled through the crowd—a realization.

This wasn’t just a confession.

This was a man reliving his greatest triumph.

Syla felt a blast from reliving the memory of taking his brother’s life.

"How did you manage that if he was as strong as you say?"

Ian asked. This was the question that was on everyone’s mind. To them, Syla had no match in terms of power, looks, or anything when it comes to his brother. Syla was as inferior as could be, so even though they were shocked, some of them started doubting if Syla had indeed killed his brother. The details were too vivid to be ignored though. Was it a beauty trap?

But Ash was already Roman’s fiancée ... so it still did not add up.

Ian towered over Syla making him shrink back in fear, but he still answered his question. In some sense, Syla was proud of his actions.

"The fool did not have his extra protection necklace when he came back from wherever he went. Aside from that, something was different about him, and he was relaxed to the point of lessening his vigilance as well..."

’WHAT?’

"... he was a warrior but a fool! Who lets down his guard just because he is happy? Who gives away his extra protective charm? Maybe I didn’t think much of it, but now I understand... hahahahahahaaa!!!!!"

Shelby unconsciously looked down at the pendant. The love token that Roman had given to Geneva back then.

When she brought out the necklace and caressed it, some of the other Faes locked eyes in it.

Shelby was too lost in her mood to notice this. This was because when she had realized that the very necklace that she had come to love... the one that had kept her company... the one that she now cherished, had played a part in her father-in-law’s downfall, a bitter taste filled her mouth.

Her mood darkened, her thoughts drifting back to the haunting image of the friendly Roman she had ’seen’. It created a ghost of guilt and regret that etched itself into her memory.

’Don’t blame yourself, my Elfin.... It is done and in the past.’

Ian’s voice pierced her memory and it somewhat calmed Shelby a little.

Ian turned back to the pitiful-looking man in the wheelchair. He itched to lift him up and break his neck, but then Ian knew that as much as he wanted to, there were rules in this new land. Rules that he did not wish to follow, but he could not help it.

Ian lifted Syla by the neck....

Syla struggled. But it was a feeble attempt, and it felt like feathering brushes on Ian’s hands.

"Record-keeper?"

"Yes, Your Highness,"

"How do you deal with scums like him?"

Brain lowered his head. His thin neck almost looked like it would fall off, but it obviously didn’t,

"We can banish them or place them in the dungeon!"

Syla still clawed at Ian, who was exerting just the right amount of pressure to strangle but not kill. Ash was still in agony from the thorns, and Simon was still a writhing mess from the shadows!

The eldest Far among them, a dignified figure with silver-threaded hair, leaned forward. His voice was measured calm, yet carrying the weight of countless decisions made before this one. "Banishment would strip him of all titles, all power. He would be cast into the void, never to set foot on these lands again."

It looked like the disgust and disappointment were mutual because another voice, low and sharp, countered across the chamber. "No. The dungeon. Let him rot in darkness. Let the centuries weigh down on him until he forgets his own name."

Murmurs rippled through the room, uncertainty certain. Syla gasped for breath, and when he could manage it, he laughed like a maniac. There was no ounce of regret. Maybe his only regret stemmed from the fact that his family never ascended the throne.

"Why not both?" Came Ian’s cold and unamused voice.

The Faes exchanged glances, and then another speaker stepped forward, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

"Exile him... but not to any of the viable lands. For the crime of killing his brother and having no remorse cast him into a prison beyond realms, a place where he is both trapped and forsaken. Let him wander endlessly through a world that is dead to him, where time bends but never breaks, where even death will not offer him an escape. That will be a good fusion of the two."

"Why not add his family?"

A chilling realization dawned across all of them. This was not mercy. This was not justice. This... was a fate far worse.

Ian dropped Syla into a heap, not paying him any attention, but genuine fear flickered in Syla’s eyes since his capture. Ian was done with him, and by the look of things, Syla’s fate was sealed!

"Do it!"

Ian then walked up to his wife, carried her, and turned to leave. That action startled them.

"W-ait! Are you going to leave? Who will take the throne?"

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