Chapter 124 Doubt

Chapter 124 Doubt
Lyla returned to the tent with faltering steps. The biting night air nipped at her skin, but it wasn't the cold that made her shiver. It was the exhaustion. An exhaustion rooted deep in her marrow, making every step feel like lifting a mountain.
Just as she reached the tent flap, the world began to spin. Her vision blurred, her legs gave way, and her body started to tilt backward.
But she didn't hit the ground.
Two powerful hands caught her mid-fall, pulling her into a warm, familiar embrace.
"Lyla..." Lysander whispered, his voice thick with worry. He was already awake—perhaps he had been for a while, sensing his wife’s restlessness through their bond. "You almost fell."
"I'm just... a little dizzy," Lyla replied weakly, trying to force a smile despite her pallor.
Lysander didn't argue. With ease, he scooped her up—one hand supporting her back, the other beneath her knees—and carried her to the bed in the corner of the tent. He laid her down gently, as if she were made of glass that might shatter at any moment.
Lyla wanted to protest, but she had no energy left. Her eyelids felt heavy, yet her mind continued to race. The man in the black cloak... the voice in her head... the dream... it all felt too real to ignore.
Lysander grabbed a wooden cup and poured warm water from the thermos he always kept nearby. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, one hand tenderly stroking Lyla’s head—smoothing her tangled hair, touching her forehead, which felt slightly feverish.
"You look exhausted," he said, his voice low and full of love. "You have to look after yourself too, Lyla. Not just everyone else."
Lyla closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. "I know. But... the survival of the dragon clan is my responsibility too, isn't it? I’m not just a queen. I’m a healer. They need me."
"We need you," Lysander corrected softly. "But we need you healthy. We need you alive. What good is a queen who sacrifices herself until there is nothing left?"
Lyla didn't answer. She knew Lysander was right. But at the same time, she couldn't stop. Every time she saw a wounded dragon, every time she heard a groan of pain, every time she looked at those vulnerable eggs... she thought of Nina. Of everything Nina had sacrificed. Of everything that still needed protecting.
"Lysander..." she whispered, her eyes opening to stare at the tent ceiling.
"Hm?"
"I want to ask you something."
"Tell me."
Lyla hesitated for a moment. The man in the black cloak said he was the beginning of the darkness. But he also said he was the only one who could save her. And that question... it had been gnawing at her since the moment she first heard that voice in her head.
"Is there another dragon... one stronger than you?"
Lysander went still.
The silence stretched on. Lyla could hear her own heartbeat, could feel the warmth of Lysander’s hand as it stopped moving through her hair.
Inside Lysander’s heart, the answer had existed for a long time. Throughout the thousands of years he had led the remnants of the clan, he knew he wasn't the strongest. There were others—ancient beings sleeping in places beyond reach, whose power nearly rivaled that of gods. But he had never told anyone. Not out of fear, but because there had been no need.
"There are," he finally answered. But not stronger. They are equals.
He didn't say those last words aloud. He only thought them. But through their bond, Lyla could feel the weight of the truth.
Lyla watched him for a long time, then gave a faint smile. "Forget it. I only asked because... I was curious."
She didn't want to burden Lysander with her anxiety. Not yet. Maybe later, when this was all over. But for now, she only wanted to feel her husband's warmth, wanting to forget—even for a moment—the man in the black cloak who haunted her dreams.
Lyla pulled Lysander toward her, hugging him tightly. She buried her face in his chest, listening to the steady, calming rhythm of his heart.
Lysander was startled for a second, then returned the embrace. His arms wrapped around Lyla's back, pulling her even closer.
"What is really going on, Lyla?" he whispered. "I can feel something bothering you. Something you aren't telling me."
Lyla shook her head against his chest. "Later. I'll tell you later. For now... just let me stay here. With you."
Lysander didn't push. He simply kissed the top of her head and let them both drift into the silence of the night.
Outside the tent, the full moon shone brightly, illuminating the quiet valley. In the distance, Mordred smiled. He didn't need to hear their conversation. He already knew. The seed of doubt had been planted. And doubt, like water, would seep into every crack, weakening even the sturdiest foundation.
"Lean on him, Princess of Light," he whispered to the night wind. "Because when he fails to cast me aside, you will realize that only I can give you what you truly need."
He turned and vanished into his own shadow, leaving the sleeping Atheria behind. Tonight's mission wasn't to kidnap. It wasn't to attack. It was to start something far more dangerous than a mere battle: doubt.
And he knew that doubt, planted with patience, would bear fruit in its own time.