CHAPTER 231: CHILDREN

Getting to the castle, and right back to her room, while Aria went in with Liora, Rymora and Harriet were left outside.

The corridors had fallen into that hushed silence that castles often carried at twilight—stone walls swallowing sound, every creak of a distant hinge echoing faintly like a ghost.

"Do you really think...." Harriet began to speak, her words faltering midway as her gaze collided with Rymora’s. The woman’s quiet expression gave nothing away.

There was no turmoil there, no flicker of faith or doubt—simply indifference, as though the very question of a god’s existence were beneath her notice. Rymora’s stillness carried its own weight, silencing Harriet more effectively than any rebuke could.

After that, they pretty much settled into silence, waiting for Aria to finish her conversation and return. Both women lingered in the corridor with a nervous sort of patience, desperately hoping that Zyren didn’t come back anytime soon.

His looming presence—always unpredictable, always dangerous—hung over their thoughts like a storm cloud. It was already remarkable that he had not appeared at lunch earlier that day, an absence so unusual it felt like an omen in itself.

Back in the room, Aria was already locked in a conversation with Liora—one that had begun with urgency but was now spiraling into something sharper, more aggressive.

"So... no god of light? What do they have?" Liora asked, her voice carrying a desperate edge, every word pressed out as though clinging to hope that was already crumbling.

"They’re killing vampires and using their blood to fuel a ritual that gives them power!" Aria’s reply burst out, her shock still raw, still vibrating in her voice. She could scarcely believe she was repeating what she had learned, yet the truth was undeniable.

But Liora didn’t so much as blink. She held every ounce of her attention fixed on Aria, her expression unyielding, her silence pressing like a wall.

"....If I don’t fix this," Liora finally breathed out, her tone laced with anger and a shiver of fear, "I’ll be drinking blood before the day is over!"

"They can’t help you, Liora!" Aria snapped. The sharpness of her words was born of frustration, exhaustion; she felt as though she were trying to reason with a child who simply refused to understand.

"The holy water and all the other items are lies!" Aria pressed on, her voice trembling but fierce. "They made them only to bedazzle commoners, while someone else works in secret to heal them—maybe a priest, maybe someone hidden away. But the relics themselves? They’re worthless!"

Her voice dropped, weighted with exasperation. "Moreover, if those things worked, then my powers should definitely work on you! If you really want to go back, I can take you there myself!"

"What do you want me to do?" Liora finally belted out, her composure breaking into raw desperation. "I’m at my wits’ end here!" Her voice cracked, the edges fraying like torn fabric as she began to pace the room, restless as a cornered child, hands wringing in helpless circles.

Aria, watching her sister’s unraveling state, felt her own chest tighten. Worry pulled at her features as she gathered herself to respond.

"I don’t know!" she admitted, her voice low but urgent. "I really cannot think of anything else but having a conversation with Savira! She knows more about this problem than anyone else!" Aria turned to face her sister squarely, trying to pierce through Liora’s resistance with the full force of her concern.

"Even if she knows about your powers, what can she do to you?" Aria continued, stepping closer, her voice softening slightly as she sought to coax Liora into reason. Slowly, painfully, she saw her sister’s rigid stance ease—just barely—as though Liora were beginning to consider it.

But before Aria could finish, the door suddenly pushed open with a deliberate weight that startled them both.

Her heart pounded in her chest. There was only one person she knew who would enter like that, unannounced, without hesitation.

Zyren.

He strode inside with measured grace, a slightly amused expression tugging at his lips. The air itself seemed to shiver with his presence. Even from where Aria stood, the scent of dust and blood clung to him, thick and metallic, seeping from his clothes. In one hand he carried a small black bag, which he set down on the table with a casual precision, as though the object bore no weight at all.

"Excuse me, your highness!" Liora blurted before her gaze had even fully settled on him. She rushed toward the door, her own heart hammering in her chest. Fear drove her steps faster than thought.

She knew well enough that vampires possessed sharp senses—what if he smelled what she had done? What if he knew? Her relief came sharp and sudden when Zyren made no move to stop her. She slipped out, closing the door quickly behind her.

In the hall, Rymora and Harriet stood a short distance away, their faces painted with the same surprise Liora had carried. Neither spoke as she passed, and Liora gave them no words in return. Her left hand trembled violently, hidden beneath her coat, shaking like that of someone desperately needing a fix, like an addict battling withdrawal.

Back inside, Aria had not moved. She stood frozen in the center of the chamber, white gown flowing to the floor, her matching coat trailing behind her like a pale shadow. Her red hair, styled to perfection, caught the dim light of the chamber, framing her face like a burning crown.

Under any other circumstance she might have been pleased with her appearance—might even have enjoyed the silent elegance of the moment. But the memory of Zyren’s last words to her lingered heavy: that he could take her whenever he wished, that her body was his to claim at his leisure. The thought hollowed her pride, chilled her beauty with dread.

He’s covered in blood, surely... she thought, pressing her lips together as her throat tightened. She opened her mouth to speak, desperate to fill the silence, but Zyren’s voice cut through first.

"You went to the temple." His tone was not a question, but a statement, sharp and precise.

Aria’s eyes widened. She nodded once, reluctant, caught off guard by how much he already seemed to know.

"I heard you can spot Zygons," he continued, slipping out of his coat. The garment dropped to the floor with careless ease. His pale fingers worked deliberately at the buttons of his shirt.

"Yes... kinda," Aria admitted, the words tumbling from her lips before she could weigh them. "It almost went badly, but the temple fixed it." She added the last part with pointed curiosity, her mind fixed on whether he knew the truth of what the temple did.

"They have powers. Of course they fixed it." His voice was flat, dismissive, eyes focused more on his shirt than on her. But Aria refused to let the conversation end there.

"Do you know how?" she pressed, her tone airy but sharp at the edges, her gaze shifting away from his exposed chest. His skin was marble-white, muscles carved in elegant lines, the sort of beauty that was both mesmerizing and unsettling. Heat flushed her face as he stripped further, removing his pants without hesitation, entirely unbothered by her presence.

"Yeah," Zyren answered simply, without pause, without shame. "They breed vampires. Or vampires indebted to them. Then they raise the children, draining their blood." His words landed like stones, heavy and unyielding.

Aria’s eyes flew wide, shock searing through her. "You know!" she gasped, every muscle in her body stiffening. Her voice trembled with disbelief. "You know what they do!" she enunciated again, louder, as if saying it twice might force him to meet her outrage.

But Zyren did not answer. He turned, moving with languid certainty toward the bathroom. The sight only fueled Aria’s frustration. He slipped into the chamber beyond without hesitation, leaving the door ajar, his voice drifting back with chilling calm.

"I’ll only answer your questions during my bath, not after." His words, soft but edged with indifference, unsettled her more than anger would have.

Aria frowned, irritation flickering across her features. Still, she heard the sound of water running—warm water filling the tub with the aid of the mechanism built into the castle, one that kept the supply ever heated. She lingered, uncertain, until the sound of him stepping into the bath reached her ears.

"Come closer," Zyren called, voice low, commanding.

Aria’s jaw tightened. Rage kindled inside her, but she obeyed, stepping forward until she was five paces from the tub. Her voice rose, hot with fury.

"They are children! Vampire children! You would leave them to their fate?" Her words tore out of her like fire, her breath sharp with horror.

"They raise them, Aria," Zyren replied, his tone calm, merciless. "If they create them, and use them, and they die, then they have served their purpose." He said it with the sort of honesty that made his cruelty all the more unbearable.

The words carved deep into Aria, leaving her trembling, more frightened than she had ever been in his presence before.