Chapter 159: Desperation in the Archives
He didn’t want to.
If it were entirely up to him, the thought would not even have crossed his mind, considering how adamant he had been that it would never happen.
But as Kael looked down at the fragile body in his arms, being carried through the long, echoing halls of the estate’s archives, he felt doubt seep into his once unshakeable resolve.
Could someone like this twig truly survive if he stayed close?
Even now, with Riley breathing so shallowly that each exhale felt weaker than the last, there was the overwhelming feeling that he might never wake again.
A low snarl escaped Kael’s throat. His strides quickened.
He had taken the long route home. Teleportation was faster, but Riley had always hated it, and Kael could not imagine what damage it would cause to an unconscious human body. What if his fragile frame shattered under the strain? What if he truly broke?
Unacceptable.
So he walked, then flew. And with every step and every wing flap, his fury swelled.
He had left his parents behind to temporarily oversee the Ministry. Their concerns were irrelevant. His only purpose now was to seek the knowledge of the guardians.
Whether they wished to help him or not did not matter. He was the dragon lord, the current bearer of this cursed title, and he would see them bend. If it came to force, so be it.
His boots struck the polished floor, the sound harsh and unyielding as he entered the archives. He had been planning on how to draw the guardians out, but the thought died the instant he saw what awaited him.
Thyrran.
The serpent’s immense form uncoiled, not frozen in stone as most often remembered, but alive, scales glistening faintly in the dim light. And not only Thyrran. The other guardians were there as well, perched in silence, as though they had been waiting.
Kael did not waste a second. His gaze swept the chamber, landing on a marble table at the center. He strode toward it, set Riley down carefully in his arms, and, without thought, removed his coat. The heavy fabric was spread neatly across the cold surface before Kael laid Riley upon it.
It was an unconscious gesture of care—automatic, instinctive. Yet had anyone else been present to witness the dragon lord cushioning a human twig with such precision, eyebrows would have been raised higher than the ceiling beams.
The scene was strange. The massive serpent loomed nearby, watching in silence, its golden eyes glinting with something Kael did not like.
Kael’s voice broke through the stillness, low and sharp. "I am here for one reason. This human." His tone was a hiss, brimming with warning. "I will not tolerate games. Give me the answers I need, or I will tear this place apart."
Empty words perhaps, for inside the archives his power was muted. Yet anger radiated off him like fire. The last time Kael’s fury had reached this level, he had destroyed a nest. If pushed, he would find a way to do it again.
Thyrran shifted. The serpent’s gaze lowered to Riley, his head rising above the marble table as though preparing to strike. Kael’s muscles tightened. A prickle of unease wormed its way into his chest, rare and unwelcome.
What was that thing doing, hovering over Riley like prey?
But before Kael could snap a demand, Riley stirred. His unconscious form twisted, his hands jerking upward.
Then—scratching.
Clawing at himself, as though something within was tearing him apart.
Kael’s roar shook the chamber. "What is this?!"
He spun toward Thyrran, eyes slitted, voice vibrating with lethal wrath. "Explain. Now. What is happening to him?!"
The marble table trembled under his grip as Kael leaned forward, his every breath a storm.
What was making Riley react like this?
Who had dared cause it?
And more importantly, who could Kael kill to make it stop?
That was what Kael was good at.
Killing.
He had perfected it, honed it until it was the one skill no one could deny him. But taking care of something? That had never been his strength.
At one point, he thought he had done well. He had been proud, fiercely proud, of being able to guard the one thing that mattered to him. But when he had lost it right under his own nose, what else could that mean except failure?
Failure to protect. Failure to keep safe.
Failure to care.
That was why he despised this role that forced him to be responsible for lives he had never cared about. Beings he had no reason to think of. Because if he could lose the one that mattered most, then what of the countless others who did not even make it onto his radar?
Fate mocked him. Always.
Those he could not care less about would cling to survival. But anyone who meant something—anyone who had managed to slip past his walls—ended up broken, destined for a different fate.
Just like the one now writhing violently on the marble table.
Kael gritted his teeth and grabbed Riley’s hands, holding them down as gently as possible before the human could scratch deep into his own throat. The strength of those clawing fingers was pitiful, but the desperation behind them made Kael’s chest tighten.
Was he suffocating? Was he unable to breathe?
Did he need air?
Kael wasn’t sure. He hated not knowing. He hated more that he could do nothing in here. His fury rose like bile. The archives robbed him of his abilities, forcing him to watch while the human flailed in agony.
He wanted to tear the guardians apart for their silence. To shake them, to demand an answer, because he had no magic here. He couldn’t soothe the sigil. He couldn’t burn the problem away.
And yet still they sat, unmoving.
Finally, Kael’s voice thundered across the chamber. "Do any of you have an answer? What do you do with a human who overdrew my magic? Tell me!"
The words echoed, sharp as claws.
But contrary to his need to destroy, with painstaking care, he slipped open the buttons of Riley’s shirt one by one, each motion deliberate, controlled, as if the slightest roughness might shatter the fragile body beneath his touch.
Every motion was precise, yet frantic underneath.
At times like this, he thought maybe they really should have reconsidered where to put the sigil. If it had been placed on his hand, maybe he wouldn’t have had to show a bit of Riley’s skin to the guardians.
But it was not something to reflect on now because there were much bigger problems.
The sigil was revealed. Black against pale skin, lines etched into a shape that should never have been there.
Kael’s eyes locked on it.
And then his fury stuttered.
His breath caught.
The sigil...
It was not whole anymore.
The edges were faint, blurring, like ink dissolving in water. The dark lines had begun to fade, piece by piece, as though the very contract binding them was unraveling.
Kael’s throat tightened. His claws hovered just above the glowing mark, unable to touch, his mind spiraling.
Why?
How could it look like it was disappearing?