Chapter 209: The Divine One
The High Council did not intervene in kingdom affairs unless sufficient evidence warranted investigation or their direct presence. Which is why the sight of two council members here, at a royal celebration, sent a silent ripple of shock across the ballroom. Their arrival was unexpected, and whispers stirred quickly. What business did the Council have in Dartmouth? Had the kingdom been accused of misconduct? Had the monarchy crossed a line they should not have?
The murmurs only grew sharper after Councilman Lucian’s words. Curiosity turned to suspicion, and the people now wanted answers, and fear hung faintly beneath their excitement of witnessing some drama.
Lord Renwick cleared his throat, trying to maintain decorum, "Of course, there is no issue with your presence," he said smoothly. Then he leaned in, voice dropping to a cautious whisper, "But if I may ask... what concerns exactly are we referring to?"
Councilman Lucian arched a brow at Renwick, "Do you truly wish for me to answer that here, with all these lovely people gathered for a....celebration, I presume?"
Renwick stiffened immediately, "Y-yes, of course. You’re right."
Recovering quickly, he extended a hand in welcome, "Please, enjoy yourselves while you’re here."
Lucian let out a quiet laugh, though it held no amusement, "Enjoy?" he echoed. "That depends on what we find, I suppose." A sharp, knowing smile tugged at his lips.
Before Renwick could respond, the pure-blooded vampiress beside Lucian spoke in her stern voice. "Where is your Queen and the Crown Prince?" Her dark red eyes swept across the hall, cold and searching, "I don’t see them here."
Renwick was preparing to answer when a far too cheerful voice piped up from behind him, "I know exactly where she is! In fact, she personally asked me to escort you. Apparently, she has a surprise planned for everyone!"
The entire ballroom rotated like a flock of startled geese.
When everyone turned to see who had spoken, they found another vampire standing beside a sorcerer, both of whom looked distinctly unprepared for a ballroom filled with nobility. Their clothes bore wrinkles, hair slightly out of place, as if they had arrived here by accident....or been dragged through something questionable on the way.
Lucian and Amara assessed the newcomers in silence.
Lord Renwick, meanwhile, felt his brows pull together at the sight of their appearance. He and the rest of Dartmouth’s court had no idea these two had been thrown into the dungeon the day before, though he did wonder why certain faces were missing tonight.
Now, looking at them like this, the puzzle only grew more chaotic. Were they attempting some bold fashion statement? Or had they walked straight in from a nap behind the stables? Renwick hoped not.
Lucian and Amara’s eyes narrowed at the new arrivals, and it was Lucian who spoke first, "And who might you two be?"
The vampire’s red eyes widened slightly, as he clearly was not expecting the High Council to be present. Soon, a familiar brightness lit his face, and his lips curved into his signature grin. "I am the one and only Professor Dante Bonesnap....and this lovely lady beside me is-"
Seira cut in swiftly before he could find a more dramatic or questionable description for her, "Professor Seira Morr," she said simply. "We are from the Blood Moon Academy."
The council members’ eyes widened slightly at the introduction. Lucian briefly glanced toward Oliver, his younger brother, only to find the man wearing the same confusion he felt.
Oliver looked genuinely confused to see the two professors freely walking among the guests, yet said nothing. Lucian turned back to Dante and Seira, a faint crease forming between his brows. Had Oliver’s information been wrong?
Just last night, Oliver and the uneasy human prince had sought Lucian out while he and Amara were stationed in a nearby village for inspection. He had been surprised to see his younger brother arrive with such urgency, insisting they come to Dartmouth at once.
Getting involved in someone’s business was not something Oliver did. Still, regardless of what his brother had told him, the High Council had already been planning to travel to Demos City. The number of missing women reported there had grown too alarming to ignore, and Lucian intended to investigate whether something darker or forbidden was at play here. Their arrival here had not been a coincidence but inevitably sooner than later.
"So you’re telling us the Queen has a surprise planned for us?" Lucian asked, his ever-observant gaze locked on Dante, who was smiling like a man who definitely hid bodies before arriving.
Dante’s grin somehow stretched even wider, "Yes! Please follow me, will you?"
Seira remained silent, her eyes sweeping across the ballroom as murmurs of curiosity grew around them. She quickly counted familiar faces, checking for her students. Relief loosened her shoulders when she confirmed none were missing aside from the three she knew were already set on the path decided.
She could only pray that everything unfolded as intended. Yet a knot of dread twisted in her stomach, tight and persistent. Because even with a plan....nothing about tonight felt certain.
After a moment of silent contemplation, Amara finally spoke, "Very well. Lead the way."
With that, the two professors turned, and the curious crowd began to follow them with growing eagerness. Even King Solan and Queen Elara were puzzled by the sudden development, and exchanged a look before deciding to trail after the procession.
...
[Music recommandation: Jujutsu Kaisen 0 Movie OST -Greatest Strength]
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While all of this was unfolding elsewhere in the palace, something entirely unexpected was taking place inside Ivan’s chamber.
From the portrait of King Zevran Kaine, a pale blue, translucent silhouette began to emerge, with his long hair drifting like mist behind him. Within seconds, the pale blue silhouette solidified, and his once painted features reshaped themselves into the unmistakable likeness of the king in the portrait.
It was as though King Zevran had stepped out of the frame and into the present...alive once more, even though he remained translucent. His ancient gaze drifted to the struggling figure on the floor. There was deep sorrow in his expression as he looked at Ivan being broken and bound.
The spectral king moved toward Ivan with slow steps. When he reached him, he lowered himself onto one knee and bowed his head with solemn reverence.
"Fight it..." His faint, resonant voice echoed through the chamber like a forgotten prayer.
Ivan, who barely heard the words, even in the midst of agony, his darkened eyes strained to pierce through the haze, desperate to see the source of the voice.
The golden shimmer coiled around his hand glowed brighter, as if refusing to release him even as the dark energy raged through his body like a beast determined to tear him apart.
"You must fight it," Zevran spoke like thunder muffled by centuries of silence. "This isn’t you....this isn’t the person I served with my entire heart."
King Zevran lifted his head slowly, the soft pale blue glow around him shone like starlight as he stared at Ivan’s still struggling form. Shadows writhed across Ivan’s body, muscles pulled taut under the assault of darkness.
Zevran’s wise, sorrowful eyes hardened with finality, "You must wake up now....oh, divine one."
His voice then dropped to a whisper, yet it echoed across the chamber
"Malakai..."
Hearing that name, something deep stirred within Ivan as if his entire being had been shaken. His heart, that was tightly coiled with the darkness, skipped a beat. Then another beat....and soon it started to pick up the pace again at an impossible speed that it felt it would explode.
Golden light started to glow brighter, and the darkness grew weaker, before surging back with a furious snarl, yet Ivan’s pulse only grew louder, stronger.
"Ugh!"
A raw, agonised scream tore from his lips. His dark, feral eyes snapped open as a violent tornado of darkness erupted from his body, whirling and expanding until it swallowed the room. Anything it touched was hurled aside, shattered to pieces as if mere glass under a raging storm.
Dark roots coiled across his skin like living veins, as his body lifted off the floor. He hung suspended with limbs loose, head thrown back as if held in the jaws of something merciless. His suit and shirt ripped apart under the pressure and revealed taut muscle straining beneath the corruption, every dark line on his body screaming rebellion even as the darkness tried to consume him whole.
And through it, the golden dust around his right hand began to stubbornly spread upward, crawling toward his shoulder like a rising sun trying to break through a storm.
King Zevran’s soul remained where it stood, untouched by the raging tornado that tore through the chamber. Debris flew, furniture splintered, stone cracked, but he did not move. His pale green eyes stayed fixed on Ivan alone, as though he were waiting or expecting that this moment would change everything.
The tornado only grew fiercer, darkness ripping through the chamber with feral hunger. Every second, the destruction spread, the walls groaned, the floor trembled, and power lashed out like a beast freed from chains.
Outside the palace wing, Alex and Caleb stood perched among the treetops alongside several Ignis Blades, an elite line of black-clad shadows. Their robes whipped in the roaring wind, but their crimson eyes remained locked on a single chamber near the highest tier of the castle.
