CHAPTER 449: TORN FABRICS-II

Even when the morning arrived, Isaac was still asleep.

He remained in a state of comatose, a slumber neither natural nor restful. His breathing was shallow but steady, and his wounds, though sealed, seemed to pulse faintly as if something still fed on them. The scent of iron never fully left the room.

Arabella had been sitting there since dawn, a book open in her lap, though her eyes had long ceased to follow the words. She had been reading about the King of Versailles, hearing whispers of him from the other sorcerers in the castle, rumors strung together like threads of dread.

Some said he was a phantom, a relic who ruled from the shadows. Others said he was dead, and that the crown had been taken over by a demon who merely wore his face. And yet others, those braver or more foolish, claimed they had seen him once, during a blood eclipse, his eyes gleaming brighter than rubies in the dark.

She had heard all of these, and none of them felt quite real.

Until she reached Lily.

"Frightening, isn’t he?" Lily murmured as she wrung a damp cloth, wiping the sweat from her brother’s brow. Her voice trembled, but her hands were steady, too steady for someone her age.

Bella turned from the window, softening her tone so as not to startle the girl. "Frightening... I can’t imagine what kind of person the King of Versailles is."

"I don’t think anyone has," Lily said quietly. "No one’s seen him, not even Lord Morpheus. Or at least, that’s what we’re told."

Bella tilted her head. "Told by whom?"

"By the sorcerers who serve him," Lily replied, dipping the cloth into the bowl again. "Most of them are chosen by Lord Morpheus. Only his men ever go near the King’s chambers. The rest of us stay here."

"You mean to say," Bella asked slowly, "that the only ones who have met the King... are Morpheus’s?"

Lily nodded.

"But everyone here," Bella murmured, "told me that the King is the one who hurt their families. How could that be?"

"Because that’s what they believe," Lily said, her tone suddenly distant. "No one has proof. Only stories, stories that Morpheus tells us."

Bella stilled.

The room was quiet except for Isaac’s breathing and the soft drip of water from the cloth.

"But a vampire King would never be allowed to come to the castle..." Lily continued, almost as if she were reciting something drilled into her memory. "We’re safe here. Lord Morpheus protects us. We shouldn’t question him."

Bella’s green eyes narrowed. "Question Morpheus?" she echoed, watching as a fragile, almost guilty smile flickered across Lily’s lips.

"My brother," Lily said softly, "used to question everything. The castle, the barriers, the reason none of us can leave. He’d ask what the world outside looked like. No one else dared to. Those who did, well, they disappeared."

Bella’s throat tightened.

"Morpheus said they were taken by the King," Lily added quickly, as if fearing she’d said too much. "That’s what everyone believes."

Arabella reached over and gently brushed away a tear that had slipped down the girl’s cheek. Her fingers lingered on Lily’s cold skin, and for a fleeting moment, she saw herself reflected in the child’s eyes, someone who wanted to believe in safety, even when everything screamed of a lie.

Outside, the wind howled against the stained glass windows, rattling them like restless spirits.

Everyone in this castle moved like clockwork. They bowed when Morpheus passed, spoke only when he prompted, smiled when he smiled. Their devotion was mechanical, rehearsed, a worship born not of love, but fear. Fear of doubting him, fear of questioning his action.

Lily drew a shaky breath. "But now I truly believe in His Lordship," she whispered. "He’s protecting us. Maybe Isaac will understand that now. Maybe he won’t question him again."

Arabella’s gaze fell on Isaac’s still face. His lips twitched faintly, almost as if in protest, even in sleep.

"To question him is a bad idea," Lily went on, wringing her hands. "Questioning him could lead to this."

Bella looked toward the window again. The morning light had grown dimmer instead of brighter.

And for the first time, she realized, perhaps the sun itself hesitated to touch this castle.

By the fourth day of the week, Isaac stirred from his sleep.

His eyelids heavy as he stared at the ceiling, in a daze as he wondered what had happened. His body felt so heavy, like it wasn’t his own body. It confused him as to why he couldn’t properly move his hands, no when he tried to do so, he instead winced with pain that cause him to frown.

He slowly pushed himself to sit up, looking at the door at the same time it opened and Arabella walked in.

Dressed in her green gown, her gaze snapped to him in awe, "You’re awake, Isaac."

"Milady! Please don’t run-" Isaac tried to get up to stop her only to wince and cry in pain while holding to his sides. "Ouch, ouch, why is my stomach..."

"Did you forgot what happened?" Arabella questioned him who blinked back to her, confusion in his face.

What had happened? Well he recalled guarding her room... did he fell asleep?! How embarass-

No. He didn’t fall asleep.

A sudden recollection entered Isaac’s head as he remembered standing in front of her room, "There was a man.." he muttered as fragments of memories like shard of glass flooded his head. "That man walked towards me and demanded your location... I hide the door behind me and then he demanded the air for something... then my stomach was stabbed by something black... it looks like a blade but I’m not sure, I felt magic from it."

"A man?" she repeated him while rushing to help him with water. "What does he look like?"

Isaac’s lips turn dry at the thought of having to remember the face of the person who had tried to kill him again.

But he could never forget the face, how could he?

"Red eyes," he muttered, holding his forehead, "Black hair, dressed in black, red eyes like a vampire... and he was standing with another man. A man with bright blue eyes and golden hair."