2025-09-07 05:19:27
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Chapter 97: The Ghost Of Memory
Chapter 97: The Ghost of Memory The warehouse, a sanctuary of sorts, was a tomb. Heavy with the metallic scent of blood and the suffocating weight of despair, it hung over Tate like a shroud. Tate had taken the severed hand, wrapped it in a piece of oil-saturated cloth, and placed it in an open crate as if hiding the horror would somehow make it not be. But the image seared itself into their minds—the pale skin, the savage mark, the silent accusation of a friend betrayed. Sheila sat against a stack of crates, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Her face was a map of shattered control. The carefully constructed barriers she had built to shield herself from the memories of her past—the attack on her family, the ruin of her life—were starting to disintegrate. The appearance of Dorian's hand had opened a door she had long kept closed. A small whimper escaped her lips, a hiss of raw, unadulterated pain. Tate fell to his knees before her, his hands held out, not knowing what to co
Chapter 96: The Prince's Gift
Chapter 96: The Prince's GiftThe warehouses were a tomb of discarded things: dusty boxes of stale materials, frayed ropes, and the remains of a broken carriage. They stalked decay and stagnant air, an odor that had become as ingrained in Sheila and Tate's reality as the odor of terror itself. This was their new reality, a reality of perpetual flight and grasping silence.They had already heard the rumors from the city, carried on the wind and whispered by sympathetic strangers who still dared to stand against the new King. The public executions had been savagely swift.Tate's men men whom he had taught, whom he had battled beside, and to whom he had entrusted his life now looked upon the ink of their signatures on the king's orders, a devotion that had become treason that would bring about death. They were deemed traitors, their past wiped out, their names blown to dust.Tate's face was a stiff mask of rage, jaw locked so tightly it ached. "He's not bypassing the guard," he snarled.
Chapter 95: The Haunting Of The Past
Chapter 95: The Haunting of the PastThe black ebony notebook and the yellowed painting lay on the floor of their sanctuary, a grim proof of the reality which was now irretrievably no longer in question. The imposter was not just an unwitting usurper but an unseen architect of their destruction, a great deceiver in making lies whose entire lifetime had been spent in reaching this extent. His revenge was not just a reaction; it was a lifetime's endeavour.Tate, his face a mask of cold fury, gazed at the portrait, his eyes tracing the face of the dead nobleman."He was here all along," he grunted, his voice low, anguished, and hard."He was a spectre in the palace, a murmur in the shadows. We were so blind. So committed to the crown, to the system, to the man we trusted. We were so afraid to listen to the truth, that we closed our eyes. We closed out Sheila and her fears. We closed out the servants' murmurs. We closed out the knot in our gut."Sheila, her eyes full of a great and terrib
Chapter 94: Deception
Chapter 94: DeceptionThe theory of a secret agent of the Chalice family lurking in the background of the palace was a chilling but logical one. It explained the imposter's knowledge of the royal family, the secret passages, and the locket. It didn't explain the most important part of the charade: the surgical transformation. The face, the form, the voice—they were a perfect, sickening copy of Kairo. The impersonation was not a disguise; it was an act of magical and surgical perfection.They walked back to their sanctuary, the photograph of the slain nobleman a heavy weight in their hands. From the ground, they laid it next to the black ebony diary, the gruesome manifesto of a monster. The diary then, with its coded scribbles and philosophical musings, now made a ghoulish kind of sense. It was not a manifesto; it was a blueprint. A blueprint of a painstaking multi-year plan."The journal," Sheila spoke, her voice a gentle, raspy whisper. "We've been reading it all wrong. We've been a
Chapter 93: The Unseen Architect 2
Chapter 93: The Unseen Architect 2 The unveiling of the portrait was a physical shock, a confirmation of the horrific fact they had been building in their imagination. The man who carried Kairo's features belonged to one of the Chalice family, an undistinguished clan, same as the one which had been purged by the Vale family a decade ago. He was not just an impersonator; he was the very definition of a centuries-old prophecy and a close, personal vendetta. "It's him," Sheila breathed, the sound of her own voice low and raw. Her eyes, fixed upon the face in the painting, stood wide with a new screaming comprehension. "It's the face of the man who killed Kairo's life, his identity, his very soul. He's not a king. He's a vengeful god, a monster who got himself involved in a prophecy that was about a serpent that would become powerful, a serpent that would consume a kingdom. And the Vale family. they betrayed them. They betrayed the prophecy. They betrayed the family. They betrayed the
Chapter 92: The Vengeful Face
Chapter 92: The Vengeful FaceThey ran until their lungs burned, until the sight of the blazing Chalice estate was a faint, angry glow on the horizon. The fire was a brutal monument to their near-fatal encounter, a testament to the imposter’s cruel and absolute control. The man was not just a king or a game master; he was a god, and his acolytes, like Orion, were terrifying in their blind faith. They had escaped, but with a new, heavier burden: the realization that the entire kingdom was a web of his making.Back at their hiding place, exhausted and bruised, they tended to their wounds. The silence was thick with unspoken thoughts. The fight had been more than a physical confrontation; it had been a philosophical one."He's not just a liar," Sheila said, her voice raw. "He truly believes this. He sees this as a holy mission, a rightful reclamation. The Chalice family prophecy. it’s a religion to them.""He said the serpent has many eyes," Tate added, his mind replaying every detail of
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