Chapter 36 THE RETURN AND THE CLEANSING
When the Shelby’s engine died, the peaceful silence in front of Silas’s cabin was replaced by the heavy weight of an approaching storm.
Dorian leaned against the car, saying his goodbyes to Silas. It wasn't an emotional farewell; it was the final check between two soldiers before a mission. Silas pulled a small leather pouch from his pocket and pressed it into Serra’s palm. It was heavy and strangely warm.
"Use this, girl," Silas said, his voice raspy in the morning chill. "Ash wood dust and silver powder inside. A simple trick from the Shadow Age. If there's a Void carrier in that palace... this powder will burn their skin. The smoke will be black."
Serra gripped the pouch tight. "Thank you, Silas. Not just for the shelter... but for reminding me of who Dorian is."
Silas looked at Dorian and shrugged. "He's a good kid. Just fights his father's ghosts too much. Go now. And don't die. I can't be bothered with your corpses."
(THE PALACE: GRAVEYARD SILENCE)
The drive back to the palace was quiet, but this time the silence wasn't due to distance between them, but the gravity of the war ahead.
When they walked through the main gates, the atmosphere of the palace hit them like a slap in the face. The smell of woodsmoke and food from Silas’s cabin was gone. Here, the air was sterile, cold, and smelled of fear. Servants glided like shadows, avoiding eye contact.
Dorian stripped off his jacket and threw it onto a chair. "Lukas!" he roared. His voice echoed down the corridor. "Valeria! To the Great Hall. Now!"
Within minutes, the team assembled. Valeria’s eyes were bloodshot; she likely hadn't left Kael’s side. Lukas was shaking, probably in a caffeine coma.
"Status?" Dorian asked, taking the head of the table.
"Disgusting," Valeria said honestly. "Everyone is blaming everyone else. Vespera's death... the way she was found... rumors are spreading. The servants are saying the palace is cursed."
"They're right," Serra said, dropping Silas's pouch onto the table. "It is cursed. But not by ghosts. By one of us."
Lukas opened his tablet. His fingers moved in a blur. "I tracked the water brought into the room. The camera feeds were wiped, but they missed the smart lock logs. The door opened at 02:14 AM. Not with a keycard. With a mechanical key."
"Old school," Dorian muttered. "Who?"
"Not kitchen staff," Lukas said. "Only one person was in that corridor at that time according to the logs. Elara's head maid, Mara."
Dorian's face hardened. "Mara? That woman was born in the palace. She was one of the nannies who raised us."
"Not anymore," Serra said, standing up. "Gather everyone in the Great Hall. Servants, guards, remaining Council members. Everyone. The cleansing begins."
(THE GREAT HALL: JUDGMENT)
Half an hour later, the Great Hall was packed. Hundreds of faces looked at Dorian and Serra with a mix of fear and curiosity. Dorian stood before the throne, but didn't sit. Serra was right beside him, holding the leather pouch.
"There is a traitor in the palace," Dorian said. His voice reached the furthest corner of the hall without a microphone. "Last night, poison was brought into my room. And worse... Vespera was slaughtered in her cell."
Whispers erupted from the crowd.
"Mara," Dorian called out. "Step forward."
The crowd parted. A middle-aged woman in a grey uniform stepped forward, trembling. Her face was pale, hands wringing her apron.
"Alpha..." Mara said, her voice barely audible. "I... I didn't do anything."
Serra walked toward the woman. Her instincts were screaming. The woman's fear was real but... incomplete. There was a strange emptiness in her eyes.
"Where were you at 02:14 AM, Mara?" Serra asked.
"In my room, Luna. I swear. I was sleeping."
"Lie," Lukas said, stepping forward with his tablet. "Your footprint was found on the carpet in the corridor. And your fingerprint is on the pitcher left in the room."
Mara shook her head, tears welling up. "I don't remember... I swear I don't remember. I just... had a dream. A dark dream. A voice was calling me."
Serra opened Silas's pouch. "Hold out your hand, Mara."
The woman hesitated, but seeing Dorian’s gaze, she extended a trembling hand. Serra poured a pinch of grey ash onto the woman’s palm.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then, Mara screamed.
The moment the ash touched her skin, it turned into black smoke and began to burn her flesh like acid. But it wasn't just the skin burning; the blood inside her veins bubbled up like black tar.
"It's not her!" Valeria shouted. "She's not just a carrier, she's a puppet!"
(THE PUPPET'S MESSAGE)
Mara's body went rigid. Her screams cut off abruptly. She lifted her head at a strange, broken angle. Her eyes... those eyes didn't belong to Mara anymore. The pupils were gone, replaced by that familiar, bottomless darkness.
Her mouth opened, but the voice that came out wasn't a middle-aged woman's. It was a metallic, multi-layered, echoing whisper.
"You cannot find me, Volcan..."
Dorian lunged forward, grabbing the woman by the shoulders. "Who are you?! Where are you?!"
Mara's—or the thing inside her—lips curled into a twisted smile. "In your blood. In your home. Your shield was my door. And now... I will take your weakest link."
"Kael," Serra whispered. Dread dropped into her stomach like a stone.
Mara's body suddenly convulsed violently. Dorian let go. The woman collapsed to the floor. Her body, just like Vespera’s, imploded before their eyes. Her skin dried, turned grey, and became a pile of husk. Her life energy sucked out in seconds.
Panic erupted in the hall. Screams, people running...
But Dorian and Serra didn't move. They locked eyes. The message was clear.
"The Infirmary," Dorian said. His voice was so cold Serra shivered. "Kael is alone."
"Valeria!" Serra shouted over the noise of the crowd. "To the Infirmary! Now!"
They started running. The corridors blurred. Dorian's breathing was ragged. Mara was a decoy. The Great Hall was a distraction. And the real target was that massive, stubborn man lying defenseless in a hospital bed.
"The weakest link..." Serra thought as she ran. Kael wasn't weak. But right now... right now he was a perfect, vulnerable feast for the seed.
If they were too late, Dorian wouldn't just lose a cousin; he would lose the last piece of his humanity.