CHAPTER 111: CHAPTER 111: KNOW YOUR ENEMY, FRIEND AND FOE.

Far beyond the borders of Zerathane, in the outskirts, Damien stood alone with a deep frown carved on his face . His dark hair whipped against his face as he stood just a few meters away from the edge of a cliff.

It wasn’t duty that brought him here.

No.

He had come for answers.

Damien inhaled the raw scent of the mountains. The quiet was tense and he felt it in his bones like a warning.

And then a powerful rush of wind shot down from the sky like a meteor.

Damien didn’t flinch.

A winged man landed so sharply that the cliff trembled beneath their feet. Massive dark bronze wings folded behind him, and he landed close to where Damien stood.

"Damien!" Lioren barked with a grin, grabbing him into a rough embrace and slapping him on the back. His laughter boomed across the cliff literally.

"You could’ve said you wanted a break from the palace instead of summoning me like you’re about to declare war."

Damien’s face remained hardened. "You know I rarely call for you without reason."

"You rarely call for me at all," Lio replied, folding his wings as he stepped beside him. "It must be something."

Damien raised an eyebrow and the two men began walking toward the farthest edge of the cliff. From up here, the entire remote, quiet valley stretched below them. It was the perfect place to talk about things that were not meant for mortal ears.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Lio asked, hands folding behind his back, expression suddenly serious. "What’s going on?"

Damien clenched his jaw. "I’ve been getting a lot of weird feelings since I found out about "Xavriel.

Lio nodded. "You did it’s about Xavriel."

Damien’s jaw tightened. "It is."

Lio raised a brow. "What about him?"

Damien exhaled slowly. "I’ve always known Xavriel was unpredictable and dhangerous, yes, but not without a method. But the things I’ve observed recently..." His voice lowered. "I am beginning to doubt everything I thought I understood about him."

Lio said nothing at first. That silence alone was enough to confirm that he understood the weight of Damien’s suspicion.

"You know I’ve never fought him seriously," Damien continued, staring out over the valley. "And honestly, I never want to. There’s a madness in him. A kind of silent insanity that doesn’t break." He shook his head. "A terrible kind..."

Lioren’s eyes twitched subtly. "You met him in Veylar years ago, didn’t you?"

Damien nodded. "Back when I was still a prince on official business. Even then, he felt like a man who had been tempered by something darker than death. Like a divine being who had fallen, but not far enough to lose his pride."

Lio hummed. "So what exactly do you suspect?"

Damien hesitated, then answered quietly, "That he knows something we don’t and is planning in secret. Waiting... waiting... waiting for the perfect time to strike.

Lio stopped walking.

"Damien," he said slowly, "are you asking me if I know anyone who can see the future?"

Damien blinked, puzzled by the sudden direction of the question. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because," Lio replied, eyes narrowing, "whenever someone fears another person’s knowledge, it usually means they want their own answers too."

Damien fell silent, raising an eyebrow.

Lio sighed heavily and looked toward the sky. "Witches are the ones gifted with Sight. The pure blooded ones. They can train the reins of time past, present, and future."

Witches...Morrigan.

Morrigan.

Her name hit him like a stone.

He hadn’t seen her since his return. She had vanished with Severin without a trace.

"I know of one." Damien started. "But I don’t know where she is," Damien muttered. "And even if she was here... I don’t know if I trust her."

"I didn’t think you still did," Lio replied with a small scoff. "No one really trust witches." he hummed, slipping his hands into his pockets and looking up.

"And dragons... well, we can’t see the future. The only way is by giving up half your demon. And if you’re unlucky, the future you see won’t even be real."

"That’s why we don’t attempt it," Lio continued. "Elder dragons might help, but they rarely interfere with time. Most believe it’s a sacred boundary."

"And the gods?" Damien asked.

"They can see everything," Lio said flatly. "But you know as well as I do they don’t meddle unless they want to destroy something or protect something."

"So witches." Damien’s voice was low. "Pure witches."

"Exactly." Lio shrugged. "But we don’t know where to find one."

A heavy silence fell between them. The wind roared, filling the emptiness of their thoughts.

Damien’s mind drifted to Elena and he suddenly began to miss her. Lately, he had noticed very strange things happening to her.

Like one time, after bathing the kids together, she went out to get new towels since the kids soaked the first one during their bath.

On her way out, he had seen an eerie, bright light emmanate from her back. He closed his eyes and opened them to be sure he wasn’t seeing things.

He knew she had powers. The words of that silver haired woman about Elena when he had met her stuck to him like overcooked rice.

"Elena is both and neither..."

He had seen everything but kept it from her. She was still recovering from childbirth and fragile. He didn’t want to frighten her or add more weight to the pain she already carried.

"She’s manifesting more often," Damien confessed quietly. "Her powers. Her surges. I’m not sure what’s bringing them out so sporadically."

Lio’s expression softened. "Bring her to an elder dragon. They can tell you what is happening."

Damien fell into deep thought, staring at the sky. After several long moments, he gave a small nod.

"Maybe I will."

Veylar.

After Seraphine left, Xavriel stood on the balcony of his room, leaning against the railing. His silver-blue hair blew gently behind him, but his expression was far from peaceful.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, and his eyes were sharp.

For two days after she left, he had left his recent hideout for Veylar.

He left for a place he had prepared long ago. A place he had power over.

It was the place where he kept the witch he had stolen from Calithar.

The house stood near the outskirts of Veylar, surrounded by dark trees and twisted shadows. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that suffocated.

Xavriel barged in through the crippled door. For some reasons, he thought it a bad idea to give her a decent accomodation.

The witch flinched violently where she sat chained to a sturdy iron rod. Her body was gaunt, her eyes hollow, but she was still alive. Barely.

Xavriel didn’t speak at first. He simply walked past her to the counter where rows of sparkling glass held variety of bottles.

He took one of them which contained a red liquid, a glass cup then poured himself a glass of blood and leaned against the table.

"Hey." he said lazily. His deep, masculine voice sounded like a rock landing on a pyramid of sand after a long fall.

The witch fell to her face, shaking.

"Please your majesty. You...you said you’ll give me a better life than how his highness treated me." she stammered out. "Yiu said I’d get my freedom —"

"Exactly. After you’ve proven yourself useful." he said quietly. Xavriel raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. The liquid stained rushed down his throat and he gave a satisfied hum.

"And now...it’s finally time to prove that." he said cooly, pushing himself from the counter.

Her heart jumped. "T-Time? For wh-what?"

"Manipulation," he answered simply.

That alone made her tremble.

He set down his glass and rolled his shoulders as though preparing for a casual spar. "During the fight with your former, pathetic lord, I managed to get something from him."

The witch swallowed hard. "I—what do you mean?"

Xavriel flicked his wrist.

A glowing object appeared between his fingers.

A feather.

But not just any feather.

It was a celestial white quill with streaks of silver lightning running along its spine.

Calithar’s feather.

Even holding it made the air vibrate with its radiating energy.

The witch’s face drained of color. "My Lord—no—no, that’s forbidden—"

Xavriel smirked, tilting the feather so its glow reflected in his eyes.

"Oh, I know."

He crouched down in front of her, placing the feather on her lap with a mock-gentle gesture. "That’s why I brought it to you." he smiled, revealing his pearl white teeth.

She shook her head continuously but Xavriel just ignored her. He always knew Cassian would never go through with his plan. Nevertheless, he helped him for two reasons: he also had an annoying brother, it wasn’t a one-sided deal.

Xavriel never got to have Elena in the end but that was completely his own doing. He figured to let it wait. She wasn’t going anywhere after all.

"You are going to help me see something...in the future.

The witch choked, scrambling back in fright away from Xavriel. "I-I can’t! Using a god’s feather—my body will—"

"Break apart?" Xavriel supplied, lifting an eyebrow. "You’re a pure blooded witch. I’m sure at least a few of your organs will survive."

She stared at him with horror.

Trying her luck, she bolted from the rod but she didn’t make it two steps.

Xavriel’s power slammed into her like a tidal wave, dragging her through the air and pinning her against his chest. She thrashed helplessly.

He leaned close, his voice a low whisper in her ear.

"Run again, and I’ll show you what real suffering looks like."

He let her drop to the floor like a discarded toy.

Then he stepped back, crossing his arms as he watched her struggle to breathe. His eyes went to her chained wrists and it broke immediately.

"Now," he said calmly, "pick up the feather."

Her hands shook uncontrollably as she obeyed, lifting the glowing quill from her lap. Not like there was any other choice.

Xavriel grabbed her under the arm, dragging her to her feet and pushing her toward a wooden table on its last legs from continuous thermite infestation.

"Begin." he commanded.

The witch placed the feather onto the surface and immediately began chanting ancient incantations. Her voice wavered, cracked, but she continued.

The feather lifted from the table and after a few seconds of chanting, a pulse of energy burst outward.

And then,

A vision erupted into the air.

Xavriel’s eyes narrowed as a scene unfolded before him. Calithar appeared, summoning a mirror and stepping into it. The mirror took him to Elena.

The conversation...

The moment...

The tension...

The desperation...

It all played out in glowing, ghostly images before him.

The witch beside him shrieked as she began vomiting black blood. Her skin paled. The flesh on her left arm dissolved. One side of her face began to wither like a dying flower.

But Xavriel didn’t look at her.

Not even once.

When the vision ended, the feather fell dead onto the table and the witch collapsed with it.

Her left ear had rotted completely, half her hair had fallen out and she lay trembling, barely breathing.

Xavriel hummed slowly, his lip curving lopsidedly.

"So," he murmured with a chilling smile, "he’s going to her... is he?"

The witch whimpered.

Xavriel offered her one last wicked smirk.

"Thanks." he said cockily.

And then he walked away, leaving the rotting witch on the breaking floor.