Chapter Twenty Four – The Portraits.

Chapter Twenty Four – The Portraits.
“Yes, my lord. He came here for her. For his soulmate.” Isla said, voice dropping into a low, silken whisper.

“And a demon like Kaidon? He’ll burn through the world for what belongs to him.”

Alaric’s jaw clenched, his heart pacing faster despite himself.

“He has a soulmate… and she was here, in Eldoria?” The words tasted bitter as they left his mouth.

Jealousy twisted inside him like a venomous thorn. It didn’t make sense.

How did Kaidon always manage to get what no one else could? Why did fate favor him?

Alaric’s fists curled at his sides, knuckles pale with pressure. Isla didn’t miss the shift in his demeanor—she smirked with satisfaction.

“Poor Lord Alaric.” she said mockingly, circling him slowly.

“Watching the world bend for someone else. Again.”

He didn’t respond.

But inside, a dangerous thought began to form.

And Isla could see it. She had planted the seed.

“How come he gets to continue his bloodline… and I…”

The bitter thought twisted in Alaric’s mind, and before he realized it, the air in the library shifted—violent winds circling the chamber, rattling books and snuffing out flames. His power was surfacing.

Isla’s lips curved into a wicked smile. 
Perfect. she thought. My plan is working flawlessly.

“Well,” she said, her tone syrupy sweet, “I can help you convince her. And kill him.”

Alaric’s molten eyes snapped toward her—searing, dark, dangerous. She felt a shiver crawl down her spine at the raw power behind that stare.

“Why are you helping me?” he sneered, voice low and laced with suspicion. “You’re a witch.”

The mirth on Isla’s face melted instantly. Her expression darkened.

“His selfish father… and those cursed ancestors of his.” she spat, venom in every word. “They didn’t just doom their kind. They cursed us, too. Witches. We’ve been shackled in a bond forged by their arrogance. The only way to break it… is to destroy his bloodline. Wipe them out.”

Her voice trembled with fury as she clenched her jaw, eyes burning with rage.

“I want him dead, Alaric.” she whispered, her voice hard as iron. “And I will do anything.”

Alaric didn’t speak for a moment. He stared at her—reading the weight of her hatred, the depth of her resolve.

“Fine.” he said at last, his voice like a verdict.

Isla’s smirk returned like a snake uncoiling. 
“Perfect.”

“What do I have to do?” he asked, cautious.

“Oh, Lord Alaric…” she purred as she turned for the door, “You don’t have to do anything.”

He frowned.

“I just need you to distract him.” she said without turning around. “While I take care of his precious soulmate.”

Alaric stepped forward. “What?”

“Don’t worry.” she called over her shoulder. “When the time comes, I’ll let you know.”

And with that, Isla walked out of the library, her cloak billowing behind her like smoke. Down the long candlelit corridor, her amethyst eyes began to glow.

“Killing two birds with one stone.” she whispered to herself, her voice soaked in malice. 
“Welcome to your doom, Kaidon.”

♠︎♠︎♠︎

Back at Kaidon’s Castle.

Taliya slowly pushed open her chamber door, just enough to peek into the hallway outside. It was quiet—eerily so.

Shadows danced along the stone walls as the torchlight flickered dimly, casting ghostly shapes that seemed to breathe with the silence. Not a single guard in sight.

No Lenora. No maids. Nothing but stillness and silence.

Her brows furrowed. 
“Okay.” she whispered under her breath, barely audible. “I should try… now.”

Carefully, she slipped out, closing the door gently behind her. The air outside her room was heavier, colder.

The silence clung to her like damp cloth as she hesitated, glancing left and then right.

After a brief pause, she chose the right passage and began walking down the long corridor.

Her bare feet padded softly against the stone floor, and her heart thudded like a drum inside her chest.

The further she went, the more uneasy she felt.

That was when she saw them.

The portraits.

Massive, gilded frames hung solemnly along the walls, each capturing a man more daunting than the last.

Their expressions were stern, eyes almost too lifelike—as if they were watching her.

Most had features that hinted at raw power: sharp jaws, intense gazes, dark auras practically spilling from the canvas.

Her eyes flitted nervously from one face to another, then halted.

There he was.

Kaidon.

His portrait was larger than the others. Shadows and fire framed his image, and even painted, his eyes bore into her with that same piercing hunger.

She swallowed hard, goosebumps rising along her arms. Her fingertips twitched.

“I shouldn’t be here.” she murmured shakily.

Just as she turned away from the painting, a soft echo broke the silence.

Footsteps.

From the left. Slow. Measured. Getting closer.

Taliya’s blood froze.

Without thinking, she spun around and darted in the opposite direction.

Her breathing quickened, panic blooming in her chest as she turned corners blindly.

She had no idea where she was going—only that she needed to get away from whoever was coming.

She was just about to round another corner when—

Thud.

She crashed hard into something solid. Her balance faltered and she nearly fell backwards, bracing for the cold stone floor.

But she didn’t fall.

Strong hands caught her just in time, gripping her waist with practiced ease. She gasped, her eyes snapping open to find herself face-to-face with—

“Rylan…” she breathed, blinking.