Chapter 298 Chapter 298

Chapter 298 Chapter 298
Dorian hung helplessly in the underground cell he was placed in, eyes almost closed, stomach gnawing with hunger, throat parched with thirst. He was completely spent of strength, hanging limply to the chains that had bound him, barely breathing. He had long since lost track of time—days, perhaps weeks—until the dark felt endless, as though he had been abandoned here to wither and die and he hated it.

Hated it so much.

He gritted his teeth with what little strength he had left, anger flaring within him. Memories of how he’d pathetically lost to Xenon flashed through his mind, and a low growl spilled from his lips. If only he had fought a little better. He just needed a chance to fight. To get out of this damned place.

That was his thought until he heard the doors unlock, the sound filling the air. A presence filled the doorway before finally stepping into the room, and the atmosphere shifted, becoming sinister. Goosebumps rose across his skin.

“Hello, Dorian…” Xenon greeted, his voice devoid of any warmth, his eyes flashing in the dark room.

Dorian tensed instinctively, fear flashing through him before he clenched his jaw, delivering a low growl.

“How are you doing?” Xenon asked, pacing around the room, his voice dipped with sarcasm, head tilted to the side. “Not good, I can see.”

“What are you doing here?” Dorian seethed, but his voice came out scratchy.

“I came to give you updates. So much has changed since you’ve been imprisoned, you know?” he began, glancing at Dorian, who moved restlessly in his chains. “Well, for one—and most importantly—the people aren’t hopeless anymore. The rain has returned. I’m sure you’ve heard it pour down these past few days, and it’s only a matter of time before the starvation in the realm disappears to become a thing of the past.”

He paused directly in front of Dorian, glaring down at him. “And all of this happened in only a couple of months. That’s a lot of progress. Something you couldn’t hope to achieve in all of your seven years on the seat.”

Dorian made a feeble attempt at a snarl, trying to attack Xenon. He hated that this man came here to spite him, to remind him of his incapabilities and failures.

“That’s a lie!” he raged, renewing his struggles with the chains. “You’re only deluding yourself…” he growled. “The people will never accept you. They will never see you as their true king. The civil war between both clans will never end—you’ll see!”

Xenon widened his eyes at that, before narrowing them mischievously, letting them glimmer in the dark. “Which is why I’m here. To make sure they end.” He closed the distance between them, his hot breath against Dorian’s fear-stricken face.

“You’re going to tell me the names of all your accomplices and loyalists still running free, so I can find them and bring them to justice.”

“Over. My. Dead. Body,” Dorian spat.

Xenon pulled back. “Over your dead body? Oh…” He paused, then grinned. There was no mirth in it. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“Guards.”

He ordered, and the door swung open, soldiers coming in with a huge pot filled with scalding oil, barbed whips, sickle knives, and a bottle of wolfsbane. On seeing those things, Dorian turned paler than a ghost, his heart thudding wildly in his chest, terror flooding his veins.

Surely, this was a prank. Xenon wouldn’t do something like this…!?

“Torture this bastard till he gives me the names I need,” Xenon said, stepping back.

“What!? No… No! How dare you!” Dorian screamed, horror filling him.

A soldier dipped one of the barbed whips into the oil and struck Dorian with it. Pain exploded through him, white-hot and blinding. He screamed as barbs tore into his flesh, oil searing wounds open. Each strike stole something from him—not just strength, but certainty. Pride. Belief.

“No… No! Please!” he screamed as the whip descended on him again. And again.

Time blurred.

No one could tell how long passed, but by the time Xenon gave the order to stop, Dorian was bloodied, fresh wounds dripping with blood.

Xenon moved closer then, placing his hands under Dorian’s chin and tilting his face up. It was swollen, one eye sealed shut. “Now, will you tell me?”

Dorian could barely form a sentence.

“Have the names ready by tomorrow, or you’ll go through this again.” With that, Xenon whirled around and exited the room.

He made sure to walk a couple of distances away before slowing down, his hands gripping his chest. Being in that place was hell. His beast had wanted to rip him in two, but he had to exercise patience. Death was too easy a punishment for what the man had put him through.

Death would have been mercy, and mercy was something he no longer could afford.

The thought of his child surfaced—sharp, sudden. It still stung, even if he would never admit it to anyone. He pushed those distressing thoughts out of his mind. He didn’t want them to bleed into the bond.

At the mention of the bond, he realized he had been away from Rayena a moment too long. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he made his way back to the palace and finally to his chambers.

He found her asleep on the bed, her hair sprawled around her, lips slightly parted. Quietly, he walked toward her, sitting on the side of the bed, his fingers brushing through her hair.

She must have been exhausted the entire time, but hid it well from him. Seeing her made the tightness in his chest loosen, and he could breathe properly.

“Sleep well, my sweet. I’ll be here when you wake.”