All Chapters of His Wingless Angel: Chapter 81 - Chapter 88

Damascus didn’t wait for the final signal.A blur of speed and fury, claws raking into stone as he launched himself over the outer perimeter and crashed through the first line of guards like a living weapon.Blood. Bone. Screams.Cain and Jax were at his flanks, silent and lethal. They didn’t ask questions. Didn’t need to. They’d seen Damascus like this before during battle.Back then, he was fighting to protect a King.Now, he was fighting for his mate.For his child.The bond with Amara burned like wildfire in his chest, drawing him inward and down through corridors and choke points, past broken doors and gutted stone. Every second sharpened his instincts. He could feel her panic flaring, then cooling. She was fighting. Running.Alive.Damascus dropped a wolf with one swipe of his arm, his eyes gold-bright and wild. The halls were carved with old ruins, but the flare of power that had rocked the compound minutes ago had fractured them.She did that, he realized.Amara was changing.

The forest was too quiet.Damascus turned in a slow circle, breath shallow. Moonlight cut through the trees in thin ribbons, silver and cold, but the shadows between the branches moved.Or maybe the forest was breathing.Jax lowered his voice, “Where the hell are we?”Cain sniffed the air and narrowed his eyes, “Not on the map. Not even close. I don’t recognize any of this.”Amara leaned against Damascus, her body still trembling from the seal’s backlash. Her skin burned with the imprint of raw magic, but her heartbeat was steady.“I’ve never been here,” she said quietly, “But it feels like something’s waiting.”Her mother staggered to a nearby stump and sat, cradling her side. “This is Old Land,” she said, “Hidden by blood wards. No one enters without the bloodline.”Damascus stepped between Amara and the darkness, instincts still high. “What kind of land?” He had so many questions about everything that had occurred since she was taken, but he also knew now was not the time to explor

The stairwell spiraled downward into shadow, each step colder than the last.There was no natural light here. No torches. No moon. And yet, the deeper they went, the more the walls began to glow. Soft pulses of gold and violet etched into the stone, forming patterns that moved subtly as if breathing.Damascus kept Amara close, his body between her and the unknown. Cain and Jax followed silently. This wasn’t a battlefield yet.But it felt like a tomb.Amara’s mother lingered at the top, hesitant, “This place was sealed for a reason.”Damascus looked back, “And she’s the reason it’s opening.”The staircase ended in a vast chamber, circular, domed, lined with stone arches that curved into impossible angles. The walls were carved with symbols older than any language Damascus had seen, glowing faintly with the same runes that had lit beneath Amara’s feet.In the center of the chamber stood someone’s tomb.But it wasn’t made of stone.It was made of crystal. A deep violet, nearly black, wit

Silence gripped the chamber like a vice.Even the runes had gone still.Amara’s heartbeat thundered in her ears.A gold dragon.Her child would be a creature no world had ever seen. Born of two bloodlines. But destined to rule completely over one species.Together, unquestionable dominance.But she didn’t feel powerful.She felt trapped.“Fate,” Amara said quietly, “always sounds like someone else’s decision.”Aiyana didn’t flinch. “It is not fate. It is design. And the child you carry is the final piece.”Amara’s mother stepped forward at last, her voice shaky but clear, “And what of free will? Of choosing who we are, not being born into chains?”Aiyana turned toward her, “You knew somewhat of the truth, even if you could not carry the bloodline forward. Your silence kept her alive. So did your love for her father. I do not question your loyalty to our bloodline. But you mistake destiny for a cage. This is not punishment. It is restoration.”Jax muttered under his breath, “Sounds lik