Chapter 777: Chapter 778: Remember the promise you made to him. You said you would always protect me
The moment Osiris saw Zara standing too close, holding her bleeding wrist toward Kian’s mouth, fury shot through him hotter than the brand on his back.
"This bitch," Osiris snarled. "What is she doing outside?"
The words cut across the battlefield.
Kian’s gaze snapped.
The fog tore for one second.
His jaws opened, but instead of drinking her blood, he caught Zara by the cloak and shoulder with his mouth. Zara screamed as he lifted her and flung her hard to the side. She hit the snow and rolled, her body scraping across the frozen ground.
Kian spat out blood and staggered toward her.
His eyes were deadly.
Zara’s face went white.
For the first time that night, she seemed to understand that she had miscalculated.
"Kian," she cried, crawling backward. "Kian, wait. It is me. It is Zara. You know me. You promised me. You said you would protect me."
Kian stalked toward her, huge paws pressing into the bloody snow.
Zara shook her head, tears falling now because fear had broken through the act. "Remember. Remember my grandfather. Remember the promise you made to him. You said you would always protect me."
Kian froze.
Only for a moment.
But he froze.
His eyes turned even more terrifying.
The promise.
Her grandfather.
Something old and painful struck through the fog in his mind. The moon goddess’s voice rose. The poison burned. Zara’s false medicine twisted. The battlefield roared around him.
Then an attacker slammed into his wounded side.
Kian’s focus snapped completely.
The enemy’s blade cut near his neck. Kian turned with a roar that no longer sounded fully sane. He tore the attacker apart, but he did not stop there. The poison, the vision, the false mind fog, and the pain all crashed together inside him until he no longer recognized faces.
A guard rushed close to help him.
Kian struck him aside.
The guard flew into the snow with a cry.
Asael’s face changed. "Hold him back!"
The battlefield shifted in horror.
Kian was raging now.
He killed attackers first, but when his own men came too close, he turned on them too. His huge white lion body twisted violently, claws tearing through anything in reach. His blue eyes were unfocused, clouded with silver light and blood-red pain.
Osiris cursed and rushed forward. "Do not let him reach the inner path!"
They had no choice.
They had to chain him.
Several beastmen ran for the heavy winter chains used for pulling stone and holding large captured beasts. The chains were thick, iron-dark, and cold enough to bite skin. It took six three striped beastmen just to drag them through the snow, and even then, Kian nearly broke through the first loop before they could pull it tight.
Osiris threw fire in front of Kian’s paws, not enough to burn him badly but enough to force him back for one breath.
Asael and three guards used that breath.
They looped one chain over Kian’s front legs.
Kian roared and broke two men’s grip immediately.
Another guard screamed as the chain tore through his palms.
Osiris rushed in again, flames wrapping around the chain to heat it just enough that it tightened against the snow and stopped slipping. "Pull!"
They pulled.
Kian fought like a beast possessed.
He dragged men across the snow. He snapped at the chain near his shoulder. He slammed his body against the ground hard enough to shake the frozen earth. It took Osiris’s fire, Asael’s strength, and every guard still standing nearby to bring him down.
Finally, the huge white lion crashed into the snow, chained and roaring, trying to break free with such force that the links groaned.
His mind was gone in the fog.
He recognized no one.
Not Asael.
Not Osiris.
Not the men bleeding to hold him down.
And far behind a broken wall, Zara watched with wide eyes, her hand pressed to her wounded side.
She had wanted Kian.
She had wanted his devotion.
She had wanted him to remember her.
Instead, she had turned him into something even she could not control.
Inside the birth room, Isabella screamed again.
This time, it felt like the whole world answered.
The room shook from far sounds. The babies cried harder. The women moved quickly, telling her the last child was almost there. Cyrus held her with everything he had left, but his body was weak now. He had given blood again and again. He had used his power again and again. His face was pale, and his hands shook when he touched her, but he still did not let go.
"Cyrus," Isabella sobbed, "I can’t. I can’t anymore."
"You can," he said, his voice hoarse. "This is the last one. You are almost done."
"If anyone says almost again, I will kill them."
The older woman, who had already heard many things from females giving birth, did not take offense. "Then we will not say it. We will only tell you when to push."
Isabella sobbed and laughed weakly at the same time.
Then the pain came fully.
Her body took over.
She leaned forward and bit into Cyrus’s arm again, taking his blood because that was what worked, because that was what the babies answered to, because this cursed beautiful world had decided that giving birth should require pain, blood, screaming, and a battle outside for decoration.
Cyrus groaned softly this time, not from pain alone, but from the way their bond flared. The mating mark on Isabella’s chest burned bright beneath her skin. The demonic blood inside the last child shifted. The baby moved down.
The older woman’s eyes sharpened. "Now. Push now."
Isabella pushed.
She screamed.
Her body trembled with the force of it.
Cyrus held her up when she almost collapsed backward. The younger woman supported her leg. The older woman guided the baby with steady hands. Glimora cried out softly, her glowing mark flaring as if she was pushing all her small strength into Isabella too.
Again.
Isabella pushed again.
