Chapter 95 I Know
Layla narrowed her eyes onto the door. She straightened out her white coat and then turned to the lady with apprehension. Accusation was written all over her features. What was a young lady doing all alone with the most charismatic vampire prince of the empire?
"Was His Highness bothering you, my lady?" Layla carefully asked, leaning against a bookshelf with her arms crossed.
"A b-bit," Ophelia murmured, bending her head to stroke the pup in her arms.
Layla's gaze snapped to it immediately. "My lady, that's—"
"Please, d-don't address me so politely, you saved my life," Ophelia said.
Layla pressed her lips together, but didn't complain. "I am in no place to give you advice, but I must warn you to be careful of His Highness."
Ophelia blinked. "Y-yes, I've been told."
"His Highness is only kind to those he deems useful and when he is done, he'll toss them away," Layla warned. "Especially given the rumors surrounding you, I wouldn't be surprised if he—"
Layla cut herself off upon seeing Ophelia's confused expression. "You do not know what they call you."
"I-I don't…"
"Nevermind then," Layla stated, deciding to change the topic. "What is that creature in your arm?"
"M-my puppy, Nyx," Ophelia eagerly introduced, holding out the animal for her to see. Her eyes glistened with excitement and she even giggled at Nyx kicking his legs in the air. Then, she hugged the puppy to her chest again with a large and fond smile.
"Nyx, huh?" Layla dryly responded, pressing her lips together at the animal's unnatural blue eyes. Then she let out a sigh, for it wasn't her business to meddle with. The castle despised animals that were not useful.
"Don't let it wander to the wild dogs' den then," Layla explained.
"T-the what?"
"It's located near the Mavez Palace. The den contains mad dogs that consume human flesh. The empire tortures its prisoners there. No men can last a single day inside of the den," Layla explained.
"O-oh…" Ophelia's grip tightened on her pet, for she was terrified of the small animal being caught in the jaws of frigid creatures. Her heart skipped when Nyx naively licked her fingers, almost in reassurance that he wasn't that dumb.
Layla glanced at the animal again. "Though, I doubt… nevermind. Do excuse me. I've come in here to fetch some books and that's all."
Ophelia stepped aside to let Layla do her work. She followed Layla and watched as the young magician packed herbs into weathered-down brown leather bags. Then, Layla gathered a few powders here and there.
Without warning, Ophelia blurted out, "C-can you lead me to Reagan?"
Layla's hands froze in mid-air. She spun around in shock, almost wondering if she heard correctly. When she saw Ophelia's earnest expression, she reluctantly nodded.
"His schedule is occupied by researching the goblins that recently attacked the palace. Their brains were larger than most and it showed the monsters' intelligence had increased," Layla explained. "But I suppose he'd make time for you."
Ophelia wondered why Reagan would do that. "O-oh, I do not want to be a burden."
"You won't," Layla murmured. "Certainly not with your traits."
"M-my traits?"
Layla didn't respond. She maintained her aloof expression and continued to quickly put things into her bag. She had to leave before Killorn discovered her absence. Lord knew he was furious with her. She knew what he was attempting to do and before he could hurt her, he'd rather piss him off using his wife.
"This way," Layla said after strapping her bag over her shoulders. Then, she began to guide Ophelia out of the library.
"I-it's alright, no need to come with m-me," Ophelia explained to the guards who immediately stood at her attention. They exchanged glances of confusion, but didn't protest. Who'd dare go against the command of their Luna?
Wordlessly, Ophelia followed Layla out of the palace. She let out a sigh of relief when the warm sun hit her skin, warming her from the inside out. She breathed in the fresh air, savoring the beauty of the palace. The wind blew past them, carrying leaves, and a refreshing scent of flowers and vanilla.
Ophelia assumed the vanilla was used by vampires who covered up their intense scent of death and blood. The walk to the tower was long and Ophelia struggled in her heels, but she continued onwards without complaint. Soon, they walked through an enormous archway of vines and came to a dead end.
"U-uhm…" Ophelia wondered if they went the wrong way.
Electricity crackled in the air and she saw Layla's hands glow. Layla swept her hands over the stone wall. One by one, the bricks moved to the side, revealing a winding maze.
"Follow me closely, you'll get lost if you don't," Layla instructed.
Ophelia gasped when Nyx suddenly hopped off of her arms. "Nyx!"
"Let him go," Layla coldly said. "He'll always find his way to you."
"B-but—" Ophelia watched as Nyx ran out of the maze and straight down the archways, hurriedly escaping from the direction of the magician's tower. Her heart fell in fear.
"You named him. He is your beast now and you are his master," Layla explained with a wry expression. "He'll be fine."
Ophelia wondered why Layla was so self-assured of this decision. Reluctantly, she followed Layla through the foggy maze. Her throat tightened and each time they turned a corner, the ground would rumble. When she glanced behind her, she saw the path they walked through no longer existed and was hidden by dense bushes that towered over them.
The maze moved on its own.
"To keep out unwanted guests and protect the magicians, long ago, the powerful Moon Goddess blessed us with this maze," Layla explained. "Or so, the legend goes."
"W-why would the Moon Goddess be involved with magicians?" Ophelia asked.
"The Moon Goddess was the one who granted magic to us humans," Layla said. "She does not only look over the werewolves, but also the humans."
Ophelia felt her hair burn at Layla's words. She curiously touched the strands and realized it had slightly glowed. Layla didn't seem to notice it as she continued to guide them. Eventually, they made it out of the maze and the tower was directly in front of them. She let out a gasp of shock at how tall and grande the ivory building was. The tower stretched into the sky, the tip touching the clouds, with windows spiraling up. Through keen eyes, she saw shimmering circles of what could be assumed to be barriers.
"This way," Layla directed, taking her by the elbows and walking through the doors. "Without me, you will be blown into bits and pieces by the security from here."
Ophelia's heart excitedly skipped when the golden doors slowly rumbled open. When she walked through, she was amazed by the beauty of the tower. From the outside, it appeared small, but the inside was enormous. Magicians and witches bustled amongst themselves, walking with a destination in mind whilst others were engaged in conversations. When Ophelia walked through the entrance, everything seemed to stop.
The hums of discussions immediately died down. A silence filled the air and she felt their scrutinizing stare analyzing her from head to toe. Then, they turned to their friend, beginning to whisper amongst themselves.
"Pay them no mind, they're gossiping about me," Layla deadpanned.
Ophelia blinked. "Why?"
"You'll find out tomorrow," Layla dryly said whilst taking Ophelia to a set of stairs. She swept her hand over a painting that fell and revealed a stair that led into the walls.
Ophelia blanched at the logic behind this. She was certain there was no way the staircase would lead anywhere, since the tower was shaped like a cylinder. Was the outer appearance just an optical illusion?
Ophelia was lost in thought as Layla took her by the arms and guided her up the stairs. She wondered about the possibilities of magic, for there was not a lot she knew about.
"We're here," Layla stated, coming to a stop by the door.
An earthy scent filled the air as Ophelia walked inside. She was amazed by the complexity of Reagan's workspace. There was a large window in one corner, herbs of all kinds hanging from the ceiling, strange spinning devices in the air, messy desks here and there, books littering beside bookshelves, and doors that seemingly led to nowhere.
"Ah, my lady," Reagan murmured in greeting, immediately as a cloth flew across the air to hide what he was working on.
"O-oh please drop the titles, i-it is quite alright," Ophelia stated.
Reagan warmly smiled at her. "As you wish then."
Ophelia was relieved, for she was still not used to their formal language. In the Eves Castle, no one ever spoke to her in that favorable manner.
Reagan was an aging man with leather skin, pale white hair and long beard, appearing disheveled yet kept at the same time. His eyes were hidden behind a thick bush of blond that was beginning to fade to cream. His gray robes made him appear humble, but the rings in his finger didn't.
"Come and take a seat," Reagan stated whilst waving his hand towards a humble table in the corner of the room. "And you, Layla, have work to do."
Layla rolled her eyes and said nothing. She strolled to the table covered by a cloth and got to the task immediately.
"T-thank you," Ophelia managed when Reagan poured her a cup of tea. Immediately, the aroma of sweet chamomile, mint, and honey filled her nose. She let out a soft sigh of relief and blew into the hot liquid.
"You're quite welcome, dear," Reagan took a seat himself and watched her through the rim of the cup. He couldn't help, but stare at her white hair and purple eyes. It is just as the prophecy says.
"You have such lovely pupils, my lady," Reagan commented as she drank from the cup.
Ophelia was startled and nearly dropped the drink. She settled it back onto the wooden table and didn't want to say anything. Instead, she glanced around their surroundings. His study was located in the far annex of the castle, in a wing she didn't know existed. There were all sorts of things in the room.
"I-I inherited it from my mother, or so I am t-told," Ophelia finally stated.
Ophelia noticed the books, parchment, and scrolls stacked near three bookshelves. Reagan's study was plain, with wooden furniture, large chests, doorsleadingd to curious places, desks, and the list went on. She loved the hanging plants tied with laundry strings that hung from the ceiling, adding an earthy scent in the air.
Ophelia faintly glanced at his wooden cane resting upon the table.
"And the silver hair, dear?" Reagan curiously asked, tilting his head.
Ophelia had heard many people question her appearance, but none seemed as kind and understanding as Reagan. He didn't seem to judge her at all. Instead, he appeared genuinely inquisitive.
"M-my mother as well," Ophelia murmured. "I-I quite re-resemble her."
"She is a lovely woman, then," Reagan said with a nod.
"W-was…"
Reagan's gaze softened. "She must've been a wonderful soul to birth you."
Ophelia sucked in a breath. No one had ever spoken that kindly of her mother before, except her kind-hearted father. Her lips trembled, for she never had a proper goodbye with him. He must've thought she left in the middle of the night.
"T-thank you," Ophelia shyly said.
Ophelia timidly touched the braid that Janette did for her. She fingered the ends of her hair, hoping that it didn't look too strange.
"A-and uhm m-my purple eyes are f-from genetics, m-my mother supposedly had a genetics mishap," Ophelia mumbled.
"You are as adoring as you are, my lady," Reagan calmly reassured her. "In fact, purple eyes were once a commodity before the horrid extinction centuries ago."
"I-I beg your pardon?" Ophelia squeaked out. She never heard of that before.
"Werewolves are creatures that worship the Moon Goddess above all, for she is the mother of all wolves. Not just that, but she controls the mating bond and determines which wolves have the privilege to shift from man to wolf or werewolf," Reagan explained.
"The difference between wolf and werewolf is that the latter is stronger, larger, and able to stand on two feet with powerful claws that can shred grown men into pieces. Back then, werewolves were made to protect anything the Moon Goddess created—including the human girls with either silver hair or purple eyes," Reagan paused, waiting for any questions.
Ophelia naively blinked.
"But that was long before the war that made humans the weakest of the food chain. With no protector and rumors of the strange human's abilities, they were hunted like sport, until extinction. The legend goes that the moon goddess was so furious by this betrayal, she never showed her face again on earth again," Reagan continued.
"That is…" he trailed off, eyeing her curiously. "I'd assume you are the Duke's mate. You may not think it's possible, for you are human, but he regards you as one, even if it's not set in stone by the stars."
Ophelia stiffened. She suddenly remembered one crucial phrase Killorn had growled at the night of the auction—"Get my mate off the stage."
Ophelia slowly blinked. "A-and how does the D-duke know that I am his mate? H-he said he didn't have one. I a-also know it's not genetically possible…"
"The Duke is unlike any other," Reagan murmured. "He feels no emotions, but can mirror them. As you can tell, he is the best at getting angry and irritated, for those are the emotions his father has always shown. It is all the Duke has ever known."
Ophelia wondered what kind of man the late Duke was.
"A mate's scent is supposedly very strong and addictive to them. When they touch, there should be tingles and sparks," Reagan explained. "But you are a human, dear, and will not experience such emotions. The Duke, however, should."
'He doesn't seem like he does.' Ophelia wondered how typical mates were supposed to behave. She suddenly felt even more sorry towards Killorn. She was human and would never understand the complexities of their bond.
"You are a special soul, dear," Reagan abruptly said, his voice turning more serious. "In particular, your eyes."
"I b-beg your pardon?"
"They say those with amethyst eyes are descendants of the Moon Goddess and those with silver hair are direct ones. Do you understand what I am implying?"
Ophelia didn't want to, but she said it anyway. "Y-you think… I am the Direct Descendent everyone is looking for."
"I don't just think it," Reagan slowly said. "I know you are."
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