Chapter 110: They did not return
Raphael’s POV
The golden-haired elder shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “They did not return.”
All of us stood in silence for a moment before the silver-haired one turned signalling for us to follow. Without hesitation, they led the way, their long robes flowing behind them as we stepped deeper into the district.
The more we walked, the better the view became. It was no longer the ruins and rot smell. None of that was within this city that we entered. The people in this city were okay.
" I don't understand," Gwen said. Her eyes narrowed. " Why is this part of the city okay and the other sides down?"
The elders stopped, and then they turned their gaze on her. " This is part of a few cities that have not been ravaged by what's currently happening," the silver-haired one replied.
" Oh. Why can't the people at the villages come this way then?" Anastasia silently pinched her hands, signalling her to keep quiet.
All the elders exchanged a look and then sighed. " We have come to realize that the more we moved them, the more cities are destroyed."
" So you guys decided to leave them there?" I asked. Shocked.
" No. They decided to stop running and wouldn't listen to us no matter what we said. All we could do was go to them every day to make sure they were okay." Really. They decided that on their own.
When we got to their home. They escorted us inside just as other Faes gazed at us. The hatred in the eyes of these ones was visible, unlike the people of the ruined city.
The chamber fell into silence as the elders exchanged knowing glances after we sat down, awaiting our fates. There was no immediate answer, no rush to accept or deny the bargain Drogon had proposed.
Instead, they turned away, stepping through a carved wooden archway that led to an adjoining room. The heavy door creaked shut behind them, leaving the rest of us sitting in the room.
I clenched my fists, my patience already running out. The sight of these people, my people, living in filth and ruin still burned within me.
How had this gone unnoticed for so long? Caleb's failure and my ministers’ incompetence made me angry more and more. And with it came questions.
Who were they? Who was causing all this? I remember I couldn't resolve the killing and missing werewolf issue in the first realm before all these problems began.
Gwen shifted beside me, her gaze turning towards Drogon, who stood with his arms crossed, watching the doorway as if he could see through the wood. His expression remained blank, but the slight twitch of his fingers told me he was growing restless.
The minutes dragged on. Then, at last, the door groaned open, and the elders stepped back into the room, their faces composed.
The silver-haired elder, the one who had spoken for them before, folded his arms over his chest and studied me.
“We will accept your offer,” he said, his voice steady. “ He may heal our sick, and we will grant you the aid of our strongest. But in exchange, we ask for one more thing.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Speak.”
The elder’s lips curved slightly, but it was not a smile of amusement. “The minister who represents our people in your court, remove him from his position.” just remove?
I raised a brow. “Is that all?”
The elder leaned his head slightly. “You agree so easily?”
I scoffed. “You think I would protect a man who allowed his people to rot while he sat in comfort at my court? Consider it done.”
I would have dealt with that minister myself had I known of this neglect. If the elders had not demanded it, I would have stripped him of his title and made an example of him. That man had failed them, failed me.
A faint murmur passed between the elders as if they had not expected such a swift response. Perhaps they had thought I would protest, that I would defend the minister simply because he was of my court. But I had no loyalty to incompetence.
The silver-haired elder nodded, satisfied. He turned his head slightly and gestured toward the back of the room. “Then it is settled.”
From the shadows of the chamber, a figure stepped forward. I had sensed her before, she had hidden her presence well, but I still sensed it.
She moved with grace, her steps light. Her hair, black as a raven’s wing, cascaded over her shoulders in thick waves. Her face was sharp and striking, with high cheekbones and a gaze that burned like embers.
Gwen inhaled sharply beside me as if some distant memory woke within her.
The elder rested a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “My daughter,” he said. “The most powerful among us.”
The woman studied me, her golden eyes roaming over my form before turning to Drogon, then to Gwen, and finally back to her father.
She did not speak immediately, allowing the silence to stretch before she finally opened her lips.
“My name in the Arcane Arena was Alexia,” she said, her voice smooth. “But that name belongs to the past. It has no place here.”
She lifted her chin slightly. “My true name is Eloisa Shtyan.”
The Arcane Arena. She had participated in the Arcane Arena?
Gwen frowned, her brows knitting together. “I remember you,” she murmured, more to herself than to the woman before us.
Eloisa’s gaze moved toward Gwen, but she said nothing.
“It matters not what name you bore in the arena,” I said, my tone firm. “What matters is what you can do now. Can you be of use to me?”
Eloisa’s lips curved, but there was no warmth in them. “I would not be here if I could not.”
Good. I had no patience for false words.
I turned to the elder. “Gather those who need healing. Drogon will see to them now.”
The elder bowed his head. “It will be done.”
Drogon stepped forward, rolling his shoulders as if preparing himself. “It will not be painless,” he warned. “But they will live.”
That was enough.
I shifted my grip slightly as I adjusted the girl, Marissa, who had fallen asleep in my arms. She had stopped trembling, her breath even, her small hands curled into the fabric of my cloak.
She had been so light when I picked her up. Too light. A child should not weigh so little.
“Return to the palace,” I ordered Caleb and Anastasia. “Prepare a room for her.”
Anastasia blinked. “You mean to take her with us?”
I glanced down at the child’s frail form. “Would you have me leave her here?”
Caleb's lips pressed into a thin line, and she shook her head. “No.”
I knew what he was thinking. This was no place for a child.
The Fae might live long, but it did not mean they were immune to suffering. As Drogon moved to begin his work, I turned toward Eloisa.
“You will come with us,” I said. It was not a request.
Eloisa lifted a brow. “I did not expect it to be so.”
" Now, you do. There are a lot of things, you might not understand or expect till we get to the palace."
She nodded curtly.
Without another word, we turned away from the ruined district and began our journey back to the palace.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
