*******Harper
The world stilled around us, the suffocating tension of Vaelthor's throne room now just a bitter echo in my memory. I turned toward Kael, my voice low but steady.
"What do we do now?"
At first, he didn't answer. His gaze lingered somewhere far away, heavy with thoughts I couldn't read. The silence stretched, gnawing at my patience, until finally he sighed.
"I left because if we stayed a moment longer, Lord Zareth wouldn't have blinked twice before killing you."
The words landed in my chest like a blade. "Why? Why would he want me dead?"
Kael's golden eyes flickered to mine, then softened, though his tone was edged with truth too sharp to dull. "Because you're a threat to the Supreme Clan."
Confusion pricked me. "A threat? How?"
He stepped closer, his expression grim. "There's something inside you, Harper. A strange energy. It feeds on powers it touches. First, it was Vaelthor's—you drained him without even realizing it. But now that Vaelthor has regained his strength, that energy will search for something else to feast on. If Lord Zareth sensed that… he wouldn't hesitate. He'd eliminate you before you had a chance to grow."
The thought chilled me to my core. Was I some kind of parasite? A danger not only to enemies but to anyone who stayed close? I swallowed hard and forced myself to meet his eyes. "Thank you… for saving me."
Kael's shoulders relaxed slightly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself feel a sliver of gratitude for his presence. Even in this endless cycle of betrayal and death, he stood at my side.
"Don't worry," he murmured, his voice steady despite the exhaustion that lined his face. "I used quite a bit of my power back there, and yes, I'm drained… but I can still help us survive."
His hand wrapped around mine, warm and grounding.
And then, in a blur of shadows, the world shifted again. I blinked, and suddenly we were standing before a looming fortress—a castle carved from black stone, its towering spires clawing at the storm-clouded sky. The air here was different, thick with the scent of fire and ash, pulsing with raw power.
Kael's lips curved in something between pride and defiance. "We'll be safe here. This is the realm of demons. My turf."
"Your… turf?"
He smirked faintly. "Even though I'm only half-demon, they still recognize me as one of their own. Lord Zareth wouldn't dare cross me here. Not in this realm. Here, the demons will stand on my side."
As we walked deeper into the castle, our footsteps echoing against the grand hallways, I felt the weight of unspoken truths pressing on me. The stone walls dripped with history, torches lining the corridors casting flickering shadows that seemed alive. The air hummed with whispers—voices of demons unseen, watching, judging.
Trying to distract myself, I asked, "Kael… what exactly are the Supreme Clan capable of?"
His jaw tightened. "They're like witches in the way they cast spells, but don't compare them to witches. Theirs is something else entirely. Divine magic, pure and merciless. They're far more powerful than any witch or warlock you've ever seen."
I nodded, feeling the truth settle heavy inside me. No wonder he had rushed us away—standing against such beings was like walking willingly into a storm that devoured everything in its path.
We turned into another corridor, and without even realizing it, our hands were still joined. I stared at the faint warmth between our palms, surprised at the comfort it brought me.
"Kael," I whispered, "will you still help me find my true origin?"
His eyes met mine, unwavering. "Yes."
Something inside me eased at his certainty. For the first time since waking up in this twisted game, I wasn't completely drowning. With him here, maybe—just maybe—I could still hold on.
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Author's POV
Back in Vaelthor's hall, the silence had turned heavy.
Lord Zareth sat across from his brother, his face carved into a mask of unreadable calm. The tension between them pulsed like a second heartbeat in the room. Natalie entered quietly, her presence elegant as ever, and set two cups of dark wine on the table before them.
Vaelthor picked his up without hesitation, swirling the liquid lazily, his smirk still etched deep. Zareth, however, didn't so much as touch his. His fiery gaze locked on the drink as though it were poisoned.
"Why won't you drink, brother?" Vaelthor taunted, raising his cup in mock toast before taking a long sip.
Zareth didn't respond. His eyes shifted suddenly—sharp as a blade—to Natalie. Specifically, to her hands. His gaze lingered on the faint scar etched across her skin.
The silence snapped. He rose abruptly, his voice deep and commanding. "I want to see you." His eyes pinned Natalie, leaving no room for refusal.
And then, just as swiftly as he'd spoken, Zareth vanished into thin air.
Vaelthor's smirk faltered. His head turned sharply toward Natalie, suspicion carving his features. "What was that look for? What is he seeing in you?"
Natalie's face remained calm, but a flicker of determination sparked in her eyes.
"You're not seriously thinking of going to him, are you?" Vaelthor pressed, his voice low with menace.
"Yes," Natalie answered simply. "I have something to tell him."
In an instant, Vaelthor's cup slammed down on the table, shattering the heavy silence. He moved fast, dragging her close—so close his breath brushed her skin, his voice barely a whisper but laced with fury.
"You want to go and see him, huh?"
"Yes." Her voice was unwavering. "Because there's something I need to tell Lord Zareth."
His grip tightened. "What is it?"
She didn't answer.
His anger flared. "Do you—" his eyes narrowed dangerously—"do you like him?"
Natalie chuckled softly, her lips curling in amusement. "What's this, Vaelthor? Are you jealous?"
The word struck him like a blade. "Jealous? Hah—" His guard slipped, just for a moment.
And in that single heartbeat, Natalie was gone. Disappeared, vanishing just as Zareth had.
The air seemed to cave in around Vaelthor. His expression twisted, fury boiling over. With a roar, he flipped the table, wine and shattered glass raining across the black stone floor.
The echo of his rage rattled the throne room walls.