Chapter 24: Azael is Kind?

Elara didn’t expect Emily to start the morning like a drill sergeant.

“Again,” Emily said, arms folded, watching her like a hawk.

Elara tried the control spell one more time. A small spark formed above her palm—steady at first, then shaking.

“Stop.”

Emily stepped forward and pressed her hand over Elara’s. “You’re pushing too much. If you force your magic again like yesterday, you’ll end up on the ground.”

Elara swallowed. “…Sorry.”

Emily didn’t reply. Her jaw was tight, her eyes sharp, and her whole mood carried this quiet anger—an anger Elara knew wasn’t meant for her, but still made the room feel heavy.

“Let’s try again,” Emily said. “Slow. Controlled. No pressure. Just feel the flow.”

Elara nodded and tried, but her mind kept drifting to the fight in the dungeon, to Emily’s copy, to the fear she’d seen on Kalaen’s face when she crashed into the wall.

Emily noticed her distraction. “Elara. Focus.”

“I’m trying,” Elara muttered.

Emily looked away for a second—just a second—but it was enough for Elara to see she was shaken too. She had never seen Emily like this. Not even when she fought her own copy.

“Emily… are you okay?” Elara asked softly.

Emily didn’t answer immediately. She kept her eyes on the spell book like she needed a moment to gather herself.

Finally she said, “Just focus on the lesson. That’s all you need to worry about right now.”

But her voice wasn’t as steady as usual.

Elara didn’t get much time to think about Emily’s mood.

On her way to put the books back, she heard two low voices coming from the corner of the hall. The door to the side room wasn’t fully closed. She wasn’t snooping—she really wasn’t—but the sound slipped through.

Azael’s voice.

“…Belmond is not the problem,” he said, sounding unusually serious. “Something else is moving in the dark.”

Kalaen answered, “Because of the dungeon?”

“Because of the timing,” Azael replied. “The watchers, the heretics, the disappearances—none of it is random. Someone is pushing things faster.”

Kalaen sounded uneasy. “And you think it’s connected to her?”

Azael didn’t respond right away.

Elara froze just a few steps from the door.

Azael’s voice dropped lower, but she heard enough.

“If they realize what she is too early,” he said, “they’ll come for her.”

Elara’s chest tightened.

Her?

Who was “they”?

What did he mean by “what she is”?

Her hand hovered near the door, heart beating too fast, waiting for more—hoping for more—but before she could lean closer…

“Elara!” Emily called from the end of the hall.

Elara jumped, nearly dropping her books. She stepped back fast, forcing her face to look normal.

Emily walked over, confused. “Why are you standing here? Come on. We’re not done.”

Elara nodded quickly and followed her, trying not to glance back at the door.

But her thoughts wouldn’t stop.

Azael knows something about me.

Something he refuses to say.

And Kalaen knows too.

The silence between her and Emily felt heavier now. Her whole chest felt heavier.

And for the first time since she arrived in the castle…

Elara wondered if she was the biggest danger in it.

Emily had barely gotten Elara to restart the spell when the air in the room shifted.

A quiet heat rolled in.

Emily straightened immediately.

Azael walked in.

He wasn’t angry.

He wasn’t annoyed.

He just looked… tired. The kind of tired he hid well unless someone paid attention.

Emily bowed her head slightly. “My lord.”

Elara froze with the half-formed spell flickering above her palm.

Azael raised a brow. “Don’t stop on my account.”

She swallowed and tried to keep the spell steady, pretending everything inside her wasn’t spiraling after what she overheard.

Azael stepped beside Emily, watching with an unreadable expression.

“Her control is improving,” Emily said. Her voice was flat, but there was a hint of pride in it.

Azael hummed. “Good. She’ll need it.”

Elara’s chest tightened again. She tried to breathe normally, but Azael’s tone made her heart jump.

Need it for what?

“Relax your fingers,” Azael said quietly, as if he could sense her rising panic.

She obeyed, and the energy steadied a little.

Emily nodded. “Better.”

Azael crossed his arms. “Three days ago, you could barely light a candle. Now you can hold a mid-tier spark without your hand shaking.”

Elara blinked. “I… didn’t think I was improving that much.”

“You are,” Azael said simply.

Emily added, “She’s a fast learner.”

Azael glanced at Emily. “Of course she is.”

There was something in his voice—like he wasn’t surprised at all.

Elara’s heart flipped.

She didn’t know if she should feel proud…

…or terrified.

Emily closed the spellbook. “That’s enough for today.”

Elara let the magic fade, her hand tingling.

Azael nodded toward her. “Good work.”

She muttered, “Thank you…” even though her mind was still caught on the words she overheard.

Azael walked closer—close enough she could feel the warmth from him.

“If anything feels strange while you’re practicing,” he said quietly, “you tell me immediately.”

Emily shot him a look. “I’m the one teaching her—”

“I’m aware,” Azael said calmly. “I’m not questioning your skill. But if anything shifts in her magic, I want to know.”

Elara swallowed. “Why?”

Azael paused for a second too long.

Then he said, “…Because you’re important.”

Her breath caught.

Emily raised a brow but said nothing.

Azael cleared his throat, suddenly acting like he hadn’t just said something that made Elara’s heart stop.

“Continue,” he said softly. “I’ll be nearby.”

And just like that, he walked out.

Leaving both women staring at the door he exited from.

Emily turned to Elara slowly.

“…What exactly did he mean by important?” she asked, genuinely stunned.

Elara’s face heated. “I— I don’t know!”

Emily stared at her for a little too long.

“Elara,” she said flatly, “I’ve known Azael for a very long time. He doesn’t call anyone important.”

Elara’s stomach dropped.

Emily sighed and rubbed her forehead.

“This turn is going to be a disaster,” she muttered.

Elara was still at the table when a soft knock tapped against the door.

Emily didn’t wait to be invited in—she pushed the door open and stepped inside, her hair slightly messy and her expression serious.

“Good, you’re awake,” Emily said.

“That sounds… ominous,” Elara replied.

Emily didn’t smile. “Azael sent for you.”

Elara blinked. “Sorry—what?”

“I know,” Emily said, crossing her arms. “He usually doesn’t ask politely. But this time he did. Direct order: Bring Elara to the southern wing. Alone.”

Elara’s stomach tightened. “Alone?”

“Yes.” Emily’s tone held a quiet warning. “Don’t panic, but… something happened last night. We’re still figuring it out.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“Wasn’t meant to be.” Emily sighed and motioned her over. “Come on. He’s waiting.”

They walked through the castle, descending the long hallway that led toward the southern wing. Elara tried to keep her breathing steady.

“Emily,” Elara murmured, “Why do I feel like you’re not telling me something?”

Emily hesitated. “Because I’m not.”

“Emily……”

“Look, he’s… different today. And he kept asking if you were alright. That’s all I’m saying.”

Elara nearly tripped.

“Azael was asking about me?”

“Repeatedly,” Emily said. “Which is weird. The last time he cared about someone’s condition, they were plotting to assassinate him, and he wanted to be sure they stayed alive long enough for him to interrogate.”

“Great,” Elara muttered. “Comforting.”

They reached the large double doors of the southern wing. Dark wood. Carved patterns that shifted when you weren’t looking at them directly. Two guards opened the doors without a word.

Inside, Azael stood near the large window, hands behind his back, staring out at the storm clouds gathering in the distance.

He didn’t turn around. But his voice was unmistakable.

“Elara. Come in.”

Emily shot her a look that said be careful and stepped back, closing the door.

Elara swallowed hard and walked forward.

Azael finally turned to face her—and she stopped breathing for a second.

He looked… strangely human. Present in a way she hadn’t seen before. His eyes scanned her quickly, checking every detail like he needed confirmation.

“You’re unharmed,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a question.

More like he was reassuring himself.

“I’m fine,” Elara said. “Emily said you wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” He stepped closer—but not too close—as if he didn’t want to risk overwhelming her. “Last night, the castle reacted to your presence. You triggered forces that haven’t moved in centuries.”

Elara’s heart thudded. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did,” he said. “You survived something that should have killed you. And I need to know how.”

She looked up at him. “Do… do you actually care? Or is this just about power?”

Azael’s jaw tightened—not in anger, but in something like restraint.

“I care,” he answered.

Simply.

Clearly.

Unexpectedly honest.

Elara’s breath caught.

“And,” he added smoothly, “it is also about power. But the two are not mutually exclusive.”

Her emotions twisted—confusion, fear, something else building in her chest.

Azael watched her closely, his voice lower now.

“The castle isn’t safe for you. Not anymore. So until I understand why you’re affecting its magic… you don’t go anywhere without someone I trust.”

“Kalaen?” she asked.

“No”

His eyes didn’t leave hers.

“Me.”

Elara’s breath caught at his answer, but Azael didn’t seem affected by how boldly he’d said it. He spoke like he was stating a fact, not flirting. Not threatening. Just… truth.

“You?” she repeated.

“Yes.” Azael stepped past her, gesturing for her to walk with him. “You’re a variable I can’t afford to ignore.”

Elara frowned. “So I’m a problem now?”

“No,” he said. “You’re an anomaly. And something wants you dead.”

The weight of those words sank in slowly.

Azael opened the door for her. She stared for a second, he never did that for anyone.

“You’re acting strange,” she said before she could stop herself.

Azael paused. “Strange how?”

“Like you’re… worried.”

His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes flickered, something sharp and tired and controlled.

“I’m responsible for everyone inside these walls,” he said. “When one of them nearly dies under my roof, I address it. That is all.”

Lie. Maybe half a lie. Elara could tell. His voice was too even.

They started down the hallway together, his steps slow so she could keep up.

“You didn’t sleep,” she said quietly.

Azael didn’t deny it.

“I had other matters to handle,” he replied.

“You mean the thing that attacked me?”

His jaw tightened. “I should have sensed it earlier. I will not make that mistake again.”

There it was again, that protective edge he kept slipping into without realizing.

Elara looked up at him.

“So what now?”

“Now,” Azael said, “you tell me everything that happened yesterday. Specifically what you felt before the entity appeared.”

“Why? You already know more about this place than anyone.”

Azael stopped walking.

“Elara. The castle only reacts like that to entities with deep magical resonance. You shouldn’t have any.” His gaze locked onto hers. “And yet it went for you first.”

Her chest tightened.

“I didn’t do anything to the castle.”

“And that is what concerns me,” he said.

They reached the training hall corridor. A guard stood nearby, waiting.

Azael turned to her again.

“You are to stay inside the main wings. Either I or one of my inner circle will escort you.”

Elara crossed her arms. “So I’m being babysat.”

“If that is what keeps you alive,” Azael said, “yes.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he stepped closer—closer than before—and his voice dropped just a little.

“I don’t want anything happening to you. Understand that.”

Elara froze.

He wasn’t teasing.

He wasn’t manipulating her.

He meant it.

“…okay,” she said softly.

Azael nodded once. “Good. Go back to your studies for now. I’ll send for you again soon.”

He turned to walk away, but halfway down the hall he glanced over his shoulder….

And Elara realized he actually was worried.