Chapter 217 Seraphine

Chapter 217 Seraphine
I left the laboratory behind me, its endless shelves, its thousands of journals, its impossible story. I hadn’t expected the truth to hurt this much. Not because I pitied Thane, but because, somewhere beneath the monster, there had once been a man desperate to save the woman he loved.

That man was long gone. All that remained was the monster.

I set the journal back on its shelf, my fingertips lingering on the worn leather before I turned away. The corrupted thread of magic still beckoned, stretching deeper, still waiting, still leading me toward the mountain’s heart, toward Thane.

The corridors changed as I walked. The meticulously kept stone gave way to polished obsidian floors, black and gleaming, reflecting torchlight like a mirror. Massive pillars carved with dragons spiraled around the hallways. Ancient banners hung overhead, their colors dulled by centuries.

This was no longer a laboratory. It had once been a palace. A kingdom.

And the deeper I went, the grander it became. Archways soared above me. Mosaics sprawled across the walls, dragons and Dragonborn warriors frozen in scenes of triumph and power. Every carving whispered of legacy, of a ruler who had once commanded respect.

Now, dust pooled in every corner. Spiderwebs joined the statues. The silence felt abandoned, not peaceful... forgotten.

My footsteps echoed through the emptiness until I stopped before another pair of enormous doors. Unlike the laboratory, these had been forced open, one hung crooked, the other splintered near its center. Something powerful had either entered or left.

I pressed my hand to the wood and pushed. The smell hit me at once... death, several days old. My nose wrinkled involuntarily.

The throne room was vast. Sunlight should have spilled through the stained-glass windows, but the mountain had swallowed the castle centuries ago. Only magical chandeliers kept the gloom at bay, casting blue light across stone and marble.

At the far end, atop a dozen wide steps, sat a black throne, its back carved into folded dragon wings. Beautiful. Intimidating. Empty.

No. Not empty.

Something lay at the base of the steps. I knew what it was before I reached him. The scent and silence told me.

Kael.

He lay on his back, as if he’d merely collapsed. But people who collapsed didn’t have swords buried in their chests. The blade had pierced him cleanly, straight between the ribs, one strike, perfectly placed. No hesitation. No struggle.

His fingers still curled around the hilt of his own sword. He’d drawn it, too late. His crown lay several feet away, dented where it hit the floor. Flies buzzed lazily above the dried blood that stained the marble steps. His robes, once elegant, had stiffened into dark crimson folds. His eyes stared upward, forever frozen.

I stood beside him for a long moment, simply looking.

This was the man whose kingdom had become a prison. The man who had looked away. Signed the orders. Allowed Thane’s experiments beneath his own mountain. Let mothers disappear. Heard children’s cries echo through these halls and did nothing.

I searched myself for grief, for anger, for satisfaction. I found nothing. No tears, no triumph. Only a strange emptiness.

"You could have stopped this," I said softly. My voice echoed across the chamber. "You didn’t."

I knelt beside him. There were no defensive wounds, no cuts across his arms, no sign of a real fight. Whoever had killed him had done it quickly, almost mercifully.

I looked to the sword, then the wound. One thrust. Straight to the heart. Thane hadn’t tortured him. He hadn’t made an example of him. He had simply removed him, as if crossing out a mistake on a page.

I rose slowly. "So this is what happens," I murmured, glancing around the empty throne room. No servants. No guards. No advisers. No mourners. Not a soul had returned for their king.

"You built your kingdom beside a monster," I said, the words bitter in my mouth. "And convinced yourself you could control him. But monsters don’t stop being monsters just because they work for you."

I looked back at Kael one last time. He had thought himself safe, useful, necessary until he wasn’t.

A memory surfaced from the journals: Names create hesitation. Thane had written that nearly five hundred years ago. Standing here, I finally understood.

Kael wasn’t a king anymore. He wasn’t even an ally. He had become another variable. Another obstacle. Just another subject whose usefulness had ended.

If Thane could kill the man who gave him sanctuary, who protected his work, who sacrificed a kingdom to keep his secrets, then there wasn’t a single person in the world he wouldn’t sacrifice, not soldiers, not children, not innocent women, not friends, not allies, not even himself.

The realization settled on me like winter.

It was never about loyalty, never about building a better future together. Thane had been alone for centuries. Maybe he never realized it. Or maybe he did.

Maybe that was the price for believing that every life could be measured, every outcome justified. In the end, there was no one left worth saving except the mission.

I walked to the foot of the throne and looked back, one final time.

"I’m not sorry you’re dead, Kael," I said quietly. "You made your choice." My gaze softened, not with forgiveness, but with acceptance. "You became another victim of the very evil you chose to protect."

The throne room offered no reply. No grand farewell. No justice. Only a dead king at the feet of a throne he never deserved.

I turned away. The corrupted thread still beckoned, slipping through a narrow door hidden behind the throne. Its darkness pulsed like a heartbeat... waiting.

Beyond it, Thane.

I drew a slow breath, straightened my shoulders, and stepped past the fallen king without looking back.

There would be time later to remember how kingdoms fell.

For now, I had to stop the man who buried one beneath a mountain.