CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE (31)
By the time Damiel had finished assigning orders to every division of the army, evening had settled over the northern fortress.
Ordinarily, Damiel would have remained until every report had been reviewed a second time. He trusted no one completely when it came to military strategy.
Tonight...
His thoughts wandered.
Not toward the battlefield.
But toward the room waiting at the end of the fortress corridor.
Toward one human girl.
Whoever had orchestrated the werewolf attacks had finally begun to reveal themselves. Every instinct told him the coming battle would not end with wolves alone.
For the first time in years...
He was stepping into a war without knowing the true face of his enemy.
"We leave after nightfall," Damiel commanded as he rose from his chair.
"Prepare yourselves."
"Yes, Commander."
One by one, they bowed before leaving, until a few commanders were left.
Damiel remained only long enough to ensure every order had been understood.
Then he left.
-----------
The ancient corridors were illuminated by flickering wall torches.
Stone pillars carved with Avalon's forgotten victories stretched toward the high ceiling, their shadows dancing across the polished floor.
Servants hurried through the halls carrying linens, lantern oil, and supplies for the soldiers stationed throughout the fortress.
Damiel barely noticed them, even as they bowed deeply.
His footsteps remained steady as he approached his chambers.
He pushed open the heavy wooden door.
Silence.
The room was empty.
His gaze swept across the neatly arranged table.
The bed.
The chair near the window.
No Reyna.
His brows knitted together almost imperceptibly.
Where had she gone?
He crossed the room and stepped onto the stone balcony overlooking the inner courtyard.
Below, several servants knelt beside a long stone basin, quietly washing uniforms and cloaks beneath the fading evening sky.
Among them...
He found her immediately.
Reyna.
She knelt with a small wooden bucket beside her, sleeves rolled neatly to her forearms as she carefully scrubbed the silver embroidery of his military cloak.
She worked silently.
Unlike the others, she wasn't gossiping.
She wasn't looking around.
She simply focused on her task with quiet diligence.
As though keeping busy was the only thing she knew.
Damiel rested one hand against the cold stone railing.
She must have grown bored.
The thought came naturally.
A servant who had spent her entire life working would never grow accustomed to doing nothing.
His gaze lingered a little longer.
The setting sun painted the courtyard in shades of amber.
The faint breeze lifted loose strands of her dark hair.
She tucked them behind her ear before continuing to wash his clothes.
Completely unaware that someone was watching her, it was as though she was in her own world.
Damiel watched in silence.
Then, almost unconsciously...
The corner of his lips lifted.
Only slightly.
She truly didn't know how to rest.
He turned away before anyone below could notice him watching.
The room felt strangely different without her.
Quiet.
Still.
Empty.
A faint fragrance lingered in the air.
Honey.
Fresh lemon.
It had somehow become the scent of the room itself.
Damiel removed the silver plating covering his shoulders and forearms, placing each piece carefully upon the wooden stand beside the bed.
He kept the rest of his military uniform on.
There would be no point changing.
They would leave again soon.
He lowered himself onto the bed, resting against the carved headboard.
Only for a moment.
His silver eyes drifted toward the open balcony doors.
The evening breeze stirred the curtains gently.
He listened to the distant sounds of the fortress below.
The clatter of armor.
The murmured voices of soldiers.
The steady rhythm of servants finishing their duties.
Somewhere among them...
Reyna.
He closed his eyes.
Not to sleep.
Simply to rest.
The scent of honey and lemon surrounded him.
Then—
Darkness swallowed everything.
There was no warning.
No gradual descent into unconsciousness.
One heartbeat he lay upon the bed.
The next...
He stood once again within the endless black void.
Cold chains circled his wrists and ankles.
The endless river stretched before him.
Across the dark water...
The shadow waited.
As though he had been expecting him.
Darkness.
Cold.
Silence.
Waiting.
"Your strategies leave little room for error." The shadow started.
"You didn't drag me here to praise me."
"No."
The shadow stepped closer.
"I came to warn you."
The black water between them rippled as the shadow moved.
"Your enemy is patient."
"You've chosen not to follow the board they prepared."
"You've begun moving your own pieces."
A faint smile crossed the shadow's unseen face.
"I wanted warn you, the creature is ancient, very ancient," the shadow said.
Damiel's gaze sharpened.
"From this moment onward..."
"...do not leave him an opening to attack you."
"He is older than you imagine."
"More powerful than you know."
"And infinitely more patient, time is his most asset."
The black stream suddenly surged violently.
New images emerged.
Damiel...
On his knees.
Blood poured from the wound in his chest.
A sword engulfed in crimson flames pierced straight through his heart.
Around him stood members of the royal family.
Watching.
Not with grief.
With satisfaction.
His men—
Kael.
Roan.
Zaiel.
All knelt nearby, battered and bleeding, barely able to move.
Then...
A pair of glowing crimson eyes appeared through the smoke.
Watching.
Waiting.
The owner remained hidden.
Only the eyes could be seen.
Then another figure entered the vision.
Reyna.
She broke through the crowd, running desperately toward him despite everyone trying to hold her back.
As she reached for him.
The vision shattered.
The shadow spoke quietly.
"Protect her."
The shadow continued.
"She is both your greatest weakness..."
"...and your greatest strength."
"The day your enemy discovers what she means to you..."
"...he will stop trying to attack you."
"He will come for her instead."
The darkness trembled.
---
Damiel's eyes snapped open.
His chest burned.
He gasped sharply, clutching at his heart.
It felt real.
As though a blazing sword had truly been driven through his chest.
The pain spread through every nerve, stealing the air from his lungs.
His vision blurred.
Veins surfaced beneath his skin.
His ash-colored eyes glowed with streaks of crimson.
Meanwhile...
The last rays of sunlight disappeared beyond the fortress walls.
Reyna wrung the remaining water from Damiel's cloak before carefully spreading it on the rail rope to dry.
She thanked the elderly servant who had shown her where to wash the clothes and quietly made her way back through the corridors.
She hoped His Highness hadn't returned yet.
If he had...
She feared she had taken longer than she should have.
Balancing the empty basket carefully in her arms, she pushed open the chamber door as quietly as possible.
Her eyes searched the room as she found him fast asleep on the bed.
Moving quietly across the room, she placed the empty basket under the table.
Just as she turned—
A muffled gasp broke the silence.
She spun around.
"Your Highness?"
Damiel had fallen from the bed onto his knee.
One hand clutched tightly over his chest.
His breathing was ragged.
Pain twisted every feature of his face.
Dark veins spread slowly up his neck, pulsing beneath his skin.
His silver eyes glowed violently, streaked with crimson.
"Your Highness!"
Without thinking—
She ran to him.
And dropped to her knees in front of him.
Damiel's body trembled violently.
His breathing came in short, painful gasps as though every breath tore through his chest.
His hand remained pressed tightly over his heart.
Veins, spread beneath the skin of his neck before fading and returning again.
His silver eyes, usually calm and unreadable, glowed fiercely, streaks of crimson burning through them.
She had seen him like this once.
Without hesitation, she wrapped both arms around him.
Holding him as tightly as she could.
"Please..."
Her voice broke.
"Please stop hurting him."
She shut her eyes tightly, tears spilling freely down her cheeks.
The words were barely above a whisper.
Yet the moment they left her lips—
Everything changed.
The crimson faded first.
Then the veins slowly retreated beneath his skin.
The suffocating pressure crushing Damiel's chest dissolved as though it had never existed.
His breathing gradually steadied.
The pain...
Obeyed her.
Again.
For several long moments, neither of them moved.
Damiel simply remained in her embrace.
Listening.
Feeling.
Her heartbeat raced wildly against his chest.
Her arms trembled around him.
She was terrified.
Not for herself.
For him.
It was a feeling he had never experienced before.
No one had ever looked at him with such unguarded concern.
No one had ever cried for him, especially not when he was the one in pain.
Slowly...
His breathing returned to normal.
Only then did Reyna realize she was still holding him.
Embarrassment flooded her face.
"I-I'm sorry, Your Highness..."
She quickly tried to pull away.
Before she could...
A large hand gently caught her wrist, not roughly, just enough to hold her in place.
She froze.
Damiel lifted his head.
Their eyes met.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
His gaze searched hers quietly.
Not as a commander.
Not as a prince.
But as a man trying to understand something beyond reason.
In his vision, she was the only one running towards him when he was in pain, and now she was the only one who was with him in pain.
Silence settled between them.
His gaze slowly lifted to her face.
A loose strand of black hair clung to her tear-stained cheek.
Without thinking—
He reached out.
His fingers gently tucked it behind her ear.
The movement was slow.
Careful.
As though she might disappear if he moved too quickly.
Reyna's breath caught.
She didn't move.
She couldn't.
They were impossibly close now.
Close enough for Damiel to notice tiny flecks of gold hidden inside her blue eyes.
Close enough for Reyna to see the shifting silver within his.
The infamous Ashes of Hell.
She found herself lost inside them once again.
There was something magnetic about them, and it kept pulling her in.
Damiel noticed.
Again...
She wasn't looking away.
He slowly leaned forward.
One inch.
Then another.
Reyna remained perfectly still.
She didn't retreat.
She didn't close the distance either.
She simply watched him.
Waiting.
His eyes drifted to her lips.
Soft.
Only a breath away.
A sharp knock echoed through the room.
"Your Highness."
Kael's voice came from outside.
"We're ready."
The moment shattered.
Damiel closed his eyes briefly before taking a slow step backward.
His expression became unreadable once more.
"Their timing is unfortunate," Azaelth muttered bitterly inside his mind clearly annoyed.
Damiel ignored him.
He released Reyna's hand reluctantly.
"Stay here."
His voice was calm again.
"Lock the door after I leave."
"No matter what you hear..."
"...do not leave this room."
Reyna nodded obediently.
"Yes, Your Highness."
He walked toward the door before pausing.
Without turning around, he spoke once more.
"And Reyna..."
She looked up.
"Thank you."
The words were quiet.
Almost unfamiliar coming from him.
Before she could answer, he had already opened the door.
Kael and Roan stood waiting in full armor.
Both bowed.
"We're ready, Commander."
Damiel stepped into the corridor, his expression once again that of Avalon's feared prince.
Cold.
Composed.
Untouchable.
As they walked toward the fortress courtyard, Damiel's thoughts did not linger on the coming battle.
They returned instead to the warmth of the arms that had held him...
...and to the human girl who had boldly looked into the Ashes of Hell—
and, both times, had seen something beautiful instead of something to fear.