Chapter 229

Chapter 229
Kael's POV

I stared at the cave entrance where "Lyrien" had just disappeared, my ancient instincts screaming warnings. After centuries of existence, I've learned to trust these instincts above all else. The woman who'd approached me moments ago, claiming Lorcan was trapped inside and needed our help, looked exactly like Lyrien—but something was fundamentally wrong. Her scent carried artificial undertones beneath Lyrien's natural lavender essence, and her eyes lacked the genuine warmth I'd come to recognize in the true moon goddess heir.

This is a trap, I thought, deliberately following the impostor into the darkness. But whoever set it doesn't know what they're dealing with.

"Hurry," fake Lyrien urged, her silver hair catching the dim light as she led me deeper. "I can sense Lorcan just ahead. His energy is weakening by the minute."

I nodded, maintaining a concerned expression while my eyes meticulously scanned our surroundings. The tunnels twisted in unnatural patterns, becoming increasingly maze-like. Ancient runes covered the stone walls, their faint glow almost imperceptible to normal sight, but to my draconic senses, they burned like beacons of malice.

Binding curses. Energy-draining arrays. Trigger mechanisms hidden in the floor tiles. My dragon senses detected the subtle magical signatures with ease. Whoever designed this knew exactly what they were doing—knew how to trap beings of immense power. This was the work of someone with centuries of experience.

I studied the impostor's movements with calculated precision. She had Lyrien's appearance down perfectly—the exact shade of her hair, the graceful posture—but small details betrayed her. This "Lyrien" walked with her shoulders too stiff, her fingers twitching slightly when she mentioned Lorcan's name. And there was something predatory in her eyes that the real Lyrien never possessed.

"These tunnels feel wrong," I said, intentionally sounding nervous. "Are you sure this is the right way?"

"Positive," fake Lyrien replied, her voice carrying a hint of impatience that the real Lyrien would never show when someone expressed concern. "Just stay close to me."

The tunnel suddenly widened into a spacious circular hall with a high, domed ceiling covered in more elaborate runes. In the center of the chamber, Lorcan lay bound to a stone altar by chains that glowed with sickly green light. The floor around the altar was inscribed with an intricate pattern of runes forming a complete circle—a classic power-draining formation that would activate the moment someone stepped into it without the proper countermeasures.

My jaw tightened. Lorcan looked pale and weak, his chest barely rising with shallow breaths. The magical chains were slowly draining his life force.

"Lorcan!" fake Lyrien exclaimed, her voice cracking with well-feigned distress. She grabbed my arm, her fingers digging in with surprising strength. "We need to get to him now!"

I noticed how her heart rate had accelerated, her pupils dilated with excitement rather than fear. The predator preparing to spring its trap.

"He looks so weak," I said, allowing genuine concern for Lorcan to color my voice. I made as if to rush forward, playing directly into the impostor's hands.

"Wait!" Fake Lyrien pulled me back with surprising force. "There might be magical traps! Let me check first."

Too eager. The real Lyrien would be more cautious about my safety, not so quick to lead the way into danger.

"Follow my footsteps exactly," fake Lyrien instructed, moving toward the chamber entrance. "This path should be safe."

I watched as she deliberately chose a route that would trigger the trap once I followed. The calculating gleam in her eyes—so unlike Lyrien's genuine compassion—confirmed what I already knew.

As we reached the threshold of the chamber, with fake Lyrien one step ahead and gesturing for me to follow, I suddenly grabbed her wrist in an iron grip.

"Game over, Lark," I said coldly.

The shock on the impostor's face was genuine. As if my words had broken a spell, Lyrien's features began to warp and shift, melting away like wax under flame. Blonde hair replaced silver, sharp blue eyes replaced Lyrien's gentle ones, until Lark's true face emerged from beneath the magical disguise.

"How did you—?" she gasped, struggling against my hold, panic replacing her earlier confidence.

My eyes glinted with ancient power, allowing a hint of my true draconic nature to show through. "Dragons can see through any disguise. I knew you weren't Lyrien from the moment I saw you outside."

Lark thrashed against my grip with unexpected ferocity, her perfectly manicured nails extending into clawed points that slashed at my forearm. She was stronger than she appeared, fueled by desperation and rage.

"Let me GO!" she snarled, her face contorting with fury as she twisted and kicked, landing a sharp blow to my knee that would have crippled a normal man.

I maintained my hold, unflinching. Her attack was like a sparrow trying to wound an oak.

"Your witch's magic may have enhanced your strength," I observed calmly, "but you're still no match for a dragon."

Lark's struggles intensified. "You think you've won?" she spat, her eyes wild with hatred. "Morgravia is already dealing with your precious moon goddess. You're too late!"

With her free hand, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small amulet—the one I'd noticed hanging around her neck when she was disguised as Lyrien. The carved stone pulsed with dark energy as she clutched it desperately.

"Morgravia!" she shouted, pressing her thumb against the amulet's center. "I need you NOW!"

Nothing happened. The amulet glowed briefly, then cracked down the middle, black smoke hissing from the fissure before dissipating into the air.

Lark stared at the broken talisman, disbelief washing over her features. "No... she promised. She PROMISED!"

"Let me guess," I said, understanding dawning, "Morgravia gave you that as an emergency escape? A way to summon her if things went wrong?"

Lark's silence was answer enough. The realization that she'd been betrayed by her own ally painted itself across her face in stark lines of horror.

"Your witch friend never intended for you to survive this encounter," I told her, almost pitying her naivety. "You were expendable—a distraction meant to keep me occupied while she dealt with Lyrien."

"No," Lark whispered, then louder, "NO! We had a deal! She promised me Lorcan! She promised me the Luna position!"

"Why is Kely doing this?" I demanded, maintaining my grip despite her struggles. "Is revenge all she wants?"

A cold smile twisted Lark's lips, though fear still lingered in her eyes. "Morgravia—or Kely, as you know her—seeks vengeance for her daughter Seren, and for her master Lex. Even though Lex was banished to the void, her loyalty remains unbroken." Her eyes narrowed maliciously. "And that bitch Lyrien will pay the ultimate price."

I froze momentarily as the pieces fell into place. "Morgravia is Kely?" The silver-haired instructor from Solakus, who had always shown such interest in Lyrien and Vex. The woman who had positioned herself as their mentor, gaining their trust while orchestrating their downfall.