Chapter 115 The fault in herself
"This... this can't be possible," Arman whispered. His voice was no longer just a rasp; it was the sound of a man watching a myth breathe life in front of him. He couldn't believe his ears. The darkness of his blindfold felt less like a prison and more like a veil waiting to be torn.
"Esperanza, why are you lying?" Wayne hissed, his eyes wide and frantic. He took a half-step toward her, his hands shaking. "Stop this! Do you have any idea what you're saying? The Golden Dragon is a legend, a ghost—not a girl in a hallway!"
"Why should I lie?" Esperanza countered, her gaze cutting through him like a blade. "Let him know who I am. This Dragon is not afraid of anyone, least of all you."
Her eyes burned with a cold, incandescent rage, but beneath the fire, there was a pint of condolence—a sudden, sharp pang of pity for the broken man they held. She saw the scars, the starvation, and the decades of theft they had committed against his spirit.
"Take him back," she commanded, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous velvet. "Let him stay where he was. He is mine now."
Wayne looked at Raymond, then back at the girl who seemed to be growing taller, more radiant, by the second. He had no choice. He felt the phantom pressure of her will crushing his lungs. With a begrudging grunt, they began to maneuver Arman back toward the darkness of the cell.
As they moved, Esperanza tried to reach out with her mind, to thread her consciousness into theirs as she usually did. She wanted to see the rot in their hearts, to know exactly what they were plotting. But as she pushed, she hit a wall.
She saw nothing. No flickering emotions, no jagged thoughts—only a cold, hollow silence where their intentions should have been.
What is happening to me? she wondered, a flicker of doubt dancing in her chest. Why can't I see them?
She quickly brushed the thought aside, masking her inner turmoil with a mask of regal composure. She couldn't afford to look weak now. Not when the stakes had just reached their peak.
"His son is ready to help us," Esperanza said, her voice steadying. "Orion is doing this for the sake of his father. He’s doing it to save you, Arman."
The silence that followed was heavy. Then, Arman let out a broken, wet laugh that turned into a cough.
"No..." he wheezed, his voice fracturing. "My son... he did not agree because of me. He didn't come for a dying father..."
He lifted his chin, aiming his blindfold toward the spot where he felt her warmth.
"He agreed... because he has something for you in his heart, Esperanza. He did it for you."
The words hit her like a physical blow. Esperanza froze, the gold light around her flickering. The authority she had just wielded felt suddenly heavy, like lead in her veins. She looked down at the dusty floor, a sharp, localized ache blooming near her heart.
She thought of Orion—the way he looked at her, the way he risked everything without hesitation. She had been so angry with him, so convinced of his betrayal, but the truth was simpler and far more painful: he had traded his soul to keep her alive.
What am I doing to him? A wave of self-disgust washed over her. She was the Golden Dragon, a being of immense power and ancient blood, yet she felt small. She was using the very love that Orion held for her as a chess piece in a war she was barely beginning to understand.