Chapter 61: The Blood-Cursed Truth

Chapter 61: The Blood-Cursed TruthZavren stood outside the castle, his cloak draped softly to the side as the night wind blew—colder than ever. His face was neutral, unreadable, yet his mind was deep in thought. He began to wonder... Was he still the same man who had once longed for war? Yes, he was. In fact, he had practically longer for it—welcomed the idea of letting them strike first. He didn’t care. Back then, he had even looked forward to it. But now... why the hesitation? Was it because of his wife? Because of the child she carried? A slow laugh echoed through the garden where he stood. He wasn’t near the beautiful flowerbeds—but rather, on the other side, where the clean stone lanes led into the edge of the forest. He stared quietly at the branches, as if they carried a language only he could read. "Lady Emberg... I had no idea you’d still be awake at this hour," Zavren said calmly, eyes still fixed on the thin air. A smile touched the older woman’s lips, almost surprised that he’d noticed her. "I see you’re still as sharp as ever," she said, moving quietly with the aid of her walking stick. "And what were you expecting—that my sharpness would fade?" Zavren replied before adding "I suggest you don’t strain your legs too much. It might not be good for your health." He turned toward her as she smiled brightly. "Oh, please. You don’t need to worry about an old woman like me. Even the earth must be tired of me by now. History will tell my tale..the oldest old lady alive,’" she laughed. "Can you imagine? Me, still alive while history speaks? What a mockery to its ego that would be." Zavren chuckled quietly at her words. "Sometimes I wonder if you shouldn’t have turned all that wit into a theatrical act." "Oh, believe me, I wanted to," she said, voice softening. "But what more could I want now? Seeing my children... and you... happy, even if just a little—that brings me more peace than anything else ever could." She paused, eyes meeting Zavren’s cold gaze that had barely softened. Just as she expected of him. "I heard about the vampires’ motive. Seems like they’re trying to play tricks—torture, then death... huh." Zavren’s eyes glinted slightly as he turned back to the blank air. "Oh? You seem quite familiar with their petty attempt at summoning the blood-cursed beast," he said calmly. The woman’s eyes widened slightly—not that she expected anything less from him, but the calmness in his voice was unsettling. As if he already knew the next move. "Why do I feel like you know something, Alpha Zavren? You seem to have a plan... don’t you?" Her words drew a dark chuckle from Zavren’s lips as the wind blew more violently. "Oh? And what if I do?" His face shifted into a slight frown before she continued, a sudden thought flashing in her mind. "I wonder... why would they go as far as injecting a werewolf just to make it crave blood like them? What are they really up to? We need to know." she finished worriedly. "Vrazen is a sly pureblood," Zavren said in a low, flat tone that rang through the air. "It would be foolish to think you’ve figured out his plans. He has Plan B, C, and D tucked neatly under his sleeves." The lady’s hand tightened around her walking stick as she clicked her tongue. "He really wants revenge on his wife, doesn’t he?" Zavren’s face darkened slightly, his lips curling upward. "The Senerp... it’s here, Lady Emberg. He wants the Senerp, convinced we’re hiding it. He plans to take it—forcefully." Zavren laughed bitterly, a sharp grin cutting across his face. "But how foolish. How can he take it by force... when we ourselves have no idea what the Senerp truly is?" Lady Emberg’s frown deepened. "Alpha Zavren... I feel like you do," she whispered. Zavren’s grin widened. "And what if I do?" he replied, voice smooth as silk. Her eyes widened again. "Oh Lord," she breathed. "There’s a reason the Senerp is forbidden," Zavren said, his grey eyes now gleaming with dark excitement. "And that’s why I have to keep it by my side... for protection." The old woman stared at him in disbelief. "Your Highness... you never cease to amaze me," she said, a faint smile forming on her lips. "I advise you get some rest. It’s almost midnight—if I could estimate... or perhaps it already is," Zavren spoke quietly. "I should be the one saying that to you, Your Highness," Lady Emberg replied. But just as she turned, her body stilled. "The hat." Her eyes widened at his words as he continued, "The one you gifted that lady... many centuries ago. Do you think it still exists?" Zavren asked the question softly, almost distantly. The woman’s gaze shifted as she turned slowly to face him, surprised. "And why the sudden question, Alpha Zavren? I know you don’t just ask things without reason, so tell me... why did you bring that up?" Her voice was quiet, but the surprise lingered. "Just feeding my curiosity," Zavren replied, gaze still fixed ahead. She followed his line of sight. It landed on a single branch—plain, unmoving—yet she realized his eyes had been there for a while. As if it held some hidden message or ancient memory. She sighed. "It could still be," she began softly, "but I’d guess it’s buried... somewhere deep beneath the ground. It’s been so long, and I can’t really imagine it still existing. But then again, that’s just my reasoning, Who truly knows?" Zavren’s lips lifted into a faint smirk. "Who knows," he echoed, voice low. "Did you know there were powers buried within that hat?" she asked suddenly. "It was crafted for protection—from any form of harm."Then, with a gentle smile, she added, "That lady deserved more than that hat." Zavren gave a single nod. "I see." Lady Emberg’s lips drooped slightly as her expression turned wistful. "Let me go and rest. The more I frown like this, the higher the chances you’ll add more wrinkles to my already wrinkled face." She squinted at him playfully. "I hope I’ve fed your curiosity enough for tonight." "Overfed," Zavren replied shortly. The woman chuckled, shaking her head as she turned once more. "Have a restful night, Lady Emberg," Zavren said. She paused in her steps. For a moment, she said nothing. Then, without turning around, a soft smile curved her lips. "Thank you, Alpha Zavren." Without waiting for a response, she resumed walking toward the castle, her lips moving into a knowing smile. Zavren stood calmly as he walked toward the tall tree branch. He stopped just in front of it, raising his hand and gently trailing it along the branch ever so calmly. As his fingers brushed the hard surface, he spoke in a quiet, composed voice. "Senerp, huh..." His eyes lifted to stare at the tree leaves above, then slowly trailed downward, stopping exactly where his hand had paused. His voice came out low and quiet. "Let’s see how this ends." Silence stretched as the wind blew harder, as if passing some unknown message through the air. "What do you want?" Zavren asked silently as the man behind him bowed deeply, his body trembling lightly. "A... a letter has been sent to you," the royal guard stammered, his head bowed low, both hands holding out a neatly shaped white envelope. Zavren turned slowly, his piercing gaze landing on the man before shifting to the envelope. His brow twitched slightly. "Young man, are you sure this envelope is mine?" Zavren asked quietly, though he already knew. The black stripes wrapped around the envelope meant only one person could have sent it. He rarely received envelopes like this—only the vampires used such designs. "Y-yes, Your Majesty," the man replied. "It was sent to your castle three hours ago. Anhour was used to ship it here, as Mister Raven said we must deliver it to you immediately—it was important." There was a calm pause. "So I’m guessing one hour remains unaccounted for, what happened to that hour?" Zavren asked calmly. "Y-Your Majesty, we originally planned to report it to you... but we didn’t want to disturb you, we thought to give it to you early tomorrow morning." The man bowed even deeper. Zavren’s eyes returned to the envelope. He spoke coolly. "But for it to be sent here, that means I needed to know quickly. Yet you postponed it till tomorrow?" His eyes glinted at the trembling man. "Surely there was a reason. Otherwise, it could’ve been left at my castle until I returned...Don’t you think?" "Y-yes, Your Majesty," the man replied, still keeping his gaze down, not daring to look up. Zavren nodded slightly, lips finally curling upward. "Feeling very kingly tonight," he muttered, extending his hand. The man gently placed the envelope in his palm. "Get out," Zavren said flatly. The man bowed once more and quickly left. Zavren’s eyes scanned the envelope, focusing on the black stripes beneath it. "What are you up to this time?" he whispered. With deliberate motion, he peeled back the upper flap. A soft cracking sound followed. He untied the black ribbon at the top and slid the letter out. His lips stretched into a wide grin. "All this... for me? What an honor," he said, unfolding the letter. His grin widened, white teeth glinting as his canines sharpened slightly. His eyes locked on the four words written in deep red— No... not ink. Blood. Written in dangerously elegant cursive, it read: "Long Live The King." —Vrazen