Chapter 178: _Linger After Death Elian’s POV
The weight of Kyren’s last words still pressed against Elian’s chest as they moved through the dim corridors of the palace. The air felt heavier than usual, as though the walls themselves knew something had shifted. Elian’s bare feet padded softly over the cold marble until he realized, belatedly, that he hadn’t even thought to grab shoes before leaving the bed. Kyren didn’t comment. He simply walked with that same predator’s grace, his crimson robe billowing faintly behind him. The comm-stone’s glow still seemed to cling to his palm, like a reminder of the report that had cut their quiet moment short. Elian quickened his pace to match. "You said... the maid," he ventured, his voice hushed. "Something about her body?" Kyren didn’t slow. "You’ll see soon enough." [Love that ominous tone. Really comforting.] Elian’s jaw tightened, but he kept silent. The system’s voice was the last thing he needed blaring over the dread already in his stomach. By the time they reached the chamber at the far end of the east wing, the red crystal lights shone, casting long claw-like shadows across the floor.
The weight of Kyren’s last words still pressed against Elian’s chest as they moved through the dim corridors of the palace. The air felt heavier than usual, as though the walls themselves knew something had shifted. Elian’s bare feet padded softly over the cold marble until he realized, belatedly, that he hadn’t even thought to grab shoes before leaving the bed. Kyren didn’t comment. He simply walked with that same predator’s grace, his crimson robe billowing faintly behind him. The comm-stone’s glow still seemed to cling to his palm, like a reminder of the report that had cut their quiet moment short. Elian quickened his pace to match. "You said... the maid," he ventured, his voice hushed. "Something about her body?" Kyren didn’t slow. "You’ll see soon enough." [Love that ominous tone. Really comforting.] Elian’s jaw tightened, but he kept silent. The system’s voice was the last thing he needed blaring over the dread already in his stomach. By the time they reached the chamber at the far end of the east wing, the red crystal lights shone, casting long claw-like shadows across the floor.
Two sentries stood outside the door, their heads bowing immediately at Kyren’s approach. One of them opened the door without a word.
Inside, the air shifted again, seeming colder.
Elian’s nose caught the faint, metallic tang of blood mixed with something acrid—burnt herbs maybe. His skin prickled instantly.
Farrell stood near the center of the room, his expression grim.
Beside him was a woman Elian hadn’t met before.
She was tall, sharp-featured, her raven-black hair tied back in a braid that brushed against a dark leather harness strapped over her chest. Strange lenses glowed faintly over her left eye, alongside a gauntlet on her right arm.
She looked up as they entered, snapping the lenses off with a flick of her fingers.
"My king," she said crisply, her voice carrying the calm precision of someone who lived in logic rather than emotion.
Kyren inclined his head once. "Ishtar. Farrell."
Farrell bowed quickly. "Your Majesty. Elian."
Elian nodded back, feeling suddenly very aware of how underdressed he was in only a loose tunic and the blanket he’d draped around himself like some makeshift cloak.
He tugged it tighter as his gaze shifted to the far table.
The maid’s corpse lay there.
Her skin had taken on the ashen gray of something drained, and faint black lines spiderwebbed from her mouth and down her arms.
Her eyes were closed, but faint scorch marks lingered around them as though they’d been burned from the inside out.
Elian swallowed hard.
"Report," Kyren said, voice low but firm.
Farrell gestured to the body, his jaw clenched. "We preserved her as ordered, my king. The magic seal around her corpse was stable until Ishtar and I began the diagnostic sweep. The curse hasn’t faded."
Elian blinked. "It’s... still active?"
Ishtar answered this time, stepping closer to the table.
"Not active, exactly. Residual. Like ash left after a fire. But it’s strong. Whoever crafted this curse, their magic was designed to linger even after death. And..." She tapped the magi-tech lens back into place, its faint blue light flickering across her iris. "...it resonates with something we’ve seen before."
Kyren’s gaze sharpened. "Where?"
Ishtar deactivated the lens again before looking him squarely in the eye. "The attack on the capital yesterday. The witch who attacked while disguised as your father? This curse carries the same signature."
The words hit the room like a physical blow.
Elian’s breath caught.
His mind reeled back to the chaos of that day—the deception, the fury on Kyren’s face when he realized he’d been tricked by someone wearing the face of the man who’d shaped his life.
And now... it was here, woven into the corpse of a maid who had tried to poison them.
[Okay, officially not sleeping tonight.]
Elian stepped closer despite the bile rising in his throat. "Are you saying the same witch cursed her?"
Ishtar’s lips pursed. "The curse’s resonance is nearly identical. Magic leaves a fingerprint, and this one matches. But..." Her gaze flickered briefly to Kyren before returning to Elian. "...there are subtle differences. As though the witch was testing something new. A variation of the spell."
Kyren moved to the table, his crimson robe brushing the floor. He studied the body without flinching, his expression unreadable.
Only the faint tension in his jaw betrayed his thoughts.
"Testing," he repeated softly. "Like the attacks on Elian."
Elian felt every hair on his body rise. "So she was... what? An experiment?"
Farrell’s eyes dropped, his fists clenched at his sides. "The curse killed her from within, in less than a minute. Her organs were liquefied. If she hadn’t tried to poison you, we might have never known she was carrying it."
Ishtar adjusted herself, producing a thin shard of crystal etched with runes.
It pulsed faintly in her hand. "I extracted what fragments I could from the curse residue. It’s unstable but I’ve stored them here. They confirm the link to yesterday’s attack."
Kyren took the shard, holding it up to the dim light. The runes flared a sickly green before dimming again.
His eyes narrowed. "So the same hand is at work. Whoever it is moves between my walls and my capital with ease."
"Like a shadow," Ishtar murmured.
Silence pooled between them. The only sound was the faint hum of Ishtar’s magi-tech.
Elian hugged the blanket tighter, his stomach twisting. "This doesn’t make any sense. Didn’t Kyren kill that witch yesterday? He even took his head."
The rogue king glanced at him but remained silent, seeming just as stunned as he was.
Kyren’s hand lifted slightly. "What if... The witch I killed yesterday was merely carrying the power of someone more powerful? The same person behind this curse on the maid."
Ishtar squinted, adjusting her lenses. "The curse strength here does seem way beyond that of the witch wearing your father’s face yesterday."
Elian bit his lips, not knowing what to make of that possibility.
This was all getting draining real quick.
Kyren turned to Ishtar just then. "Anything else?"
She hesitated, then sighed softly. "The curse signature wasn’t just meant to kill. It carried a siphon component. A drain. Whatever it pulled from her—life force, essence, call it what you will—it wasn’t released here. It was transmitted elsewhere."
Elian froze. "Transmitted?"
Ishtar nodded grimly. "Like a beacon. Energy funneled from her body to another point. Which means someone benefited from her death."
[Great. She’s dead and still paying rent for someone else’s power bill.]
Elian ignored the quip.
His heart pounded louder than his thoughts. "So every time they curse someone like this, they’re... feeding?"
"That would be my assumption," Ishtar said. "And the witch who wore your father’s face yesterday? That might’ve been the beginning of the main culprit’s schemes."
Kyren set the shard back down with deliberate care. He was quiet but the fury underneath was clear.
Elian glanced at him, catching the faint crimson flare in his eyes. He couldn’t help but subconsciously shiver.
Farrell cleared his throat nervously. "My king... what are your orders?"
Kyren looked over the maid’s body one last time before straightening. "Burn it. Salt the ashes. And seal them with iron before scattering them beyond the borders. I won’t risk her being used again."
Farrell bowed sharply. "At once."
Ishtar nodded in agreement. "I’ll ensure the magi-tech sweep leaves no residue. We’ll lock the shard in triple containment until you decide what to do with it."
Kyren’s eyes flickered toward Elian then, softening for the briefest moment. "We’ll be moving sooner than planned. Whoever this main witch is, they’re going bolder. And I’ll not have them play games with what’s mine."