Chapter 123: A Rescue?

Seraph’s POV

The creatures dropped me immediately without any sense of defiance.

My body hit the cold stone harder than I expected, air rushing from my lungs as their grips vanished all at once.

They stepped back, then bowed. I took a close look at them, but they didn't seem to be mocking him. They lowered their heads deeply in submission.

I stayed where I was for a breath too long, my wrists still bound, my mind trying to catch up with what my eyes were seeing.

Endil stood a few paces away, as if this were an inconvenience rather than an interruption, or whatever this actually was.

He did not spare me a single glance. His entire attention was on the creatures.

“Leave,” he said casually, like he was asking them to try a nice loaf of bread.

They obeyed quietly.

They both turned to retreat into the thinning tree line — but one of them paused.

The horned one.

It glanced at me, then back at Endil.

“What do you plan to do with her, Sir?” it asked.

I looked to Endil, wanting to know as well, but he did not answer.

He just smiled.

It was the smallest curve of his mouth — almost thoughtful.

What happened next was so fast I barely tracked it.

He moved.

One second he was standing several paces away. The next, he was in front of the horned creature, hand already at its throat.

There's no rising dust, whatsoever.

Just a sharp sound, not even a scream, more like air being forced out violently — and then a clean crack.

The body fell before I processed that it was dead.

He released it as though discarding something mildly irritating.

The second creature froze. I could feel its fear from where I lay.

Endil did not even look at it this time.

“Take it,” he said mildly.

The creature scrambled, lifting the limp body across its shoulder, bowing again — lower than before — before disappearing into the trees without another word.

Silence returned. My heartbeat was the loudest thing in the clearing.

This was the first time I had witnessed his power in action, and my God — is there such a thing as a weak monster in Lydian?

He turned to me then.

And for a long moment, we simply looked at each other.

This version of him did not belong to quiet conversations and manipulative but controlled words.

This was something else.

He was far colder than before.

Finally, my technique worked, and the ropes around my wrists came undone.

I pushed myself up slowly, refusing to scramble.

Refusing to appear shaken as he looked at me with light amusement.

“What is this?” I asked finally, my voice rough but steady. “Why are you here?”

One dark brow lifted.

“Well,” he said lightly, “that is one way to thank your savior.”

“You are not my savior.”

He tilted his head, considering me.

“No?” His gaze flickered briefly to the rope on the ground before returning to my face. “What would you prefer I had done?”

“Nothing of any importance.”

I held his stare.

He studied me for a moment longer, then a slow smirk curved his mouth.

“I am very glad you haven’t lost your edge,” he said softly. “That is what I fancied most about you.”

Heat flared in my chest.

I looked at him properly then.

After everything I imagined about Lydian… after all the doubt and suspicion and restless nights…

This was Endil.

Standing in front of me.

Solid and real.

I should be thrilled, even though I hate him for constantly trying to murder me, still.

He is real.

And unless I had begun hallucinating the one presence I could never mistake, this was no trick of my mind.

Because I could feel it — that aura and pressure in the air around him — something that made instinct recoil even as something else leaned closer.

My imagination could not fabricate that.

“Between the time you ran home,” he said casually, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve — and I stopped myself from pointing out that I did not run, but I did, so I don’t — “Lydian has changed.”

I frowned.

“I barely left for two days.”

He looked amused.

“Technically,” he corrected, “you left for exactly a few minutes.”

The words settled wrong.

“What does that even mean?”

“That,” he said smoothly, “depends on how you measure time.”

I stared at him, then shook my head.

That’s not what’s important now.

He’s making me deviate.

“Aren’t you her lackey?” I shot back. “Or does killing her messengers fall outside your duties?”

His eyes darkened just slightly at that.

Then he stepped closer.

Close enough that I could see the faint flecks of gold buried in his irises.

“Why are you here?” he asked quietly.

The shift in tone was serious now.

“You could have had comfort,” he continued. “Safety. You could have stayed away from this whole place. Did Anzel not give you what you’ve always wanted and more?”

Even as I stared intently at him, it was hard to track the emotions that crossed his face.

“I want to know something, Seraph.”

The way he said my name made my pulse stutter despite myself.

“I am betting on you,” he said. “Before I decide how far that bet extends, I need to know your worth.”

His voice lowered — not in seduction, but in challenge.

“So tell me.”

His eyes held mine completely now.

“Why did you come back?”

The forest felt very small suddenly.

Why did I come back?

What is this supposed to mean?

My thoughts surged all at once — my mother’s window curtain, the missing archives, the horned creature’s bow, the way he snapped a neck without hesitation, the way he watched me now like I was both question and answer.

I swallowed once, because all of that doesn’t matter at all.

What matters is just one person.

Time passed in slow motion.

Then finally, I smiled slightly.

Sharp at the edges.

“You want to know my worth?” I said.

It was my turn to step closer this time.

Close enough that if he wished to intimidate me, he would have to try harder.

“Precisely,” he said with a nod, and I marveled at the utterly serious look on his face.

“I need to know you’re ready.”

The words softened slightly in my head, but the impact was still as powerful.

Ready for what?