All Chapters of Incubus Reborn: Sleepless promise: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

The east ward was not silent that night. Every alley carried whispers, every home lit with hurried lamplight. The raid had failed, and the story was already slipping beyond Malrec’s reach.Saraphina sat at the edge of the safehouse table, her hands still trembling faintly though she hid it behind clenched fists. The smell of smoke and blood clung to her. She could still feel the Weller boy’s small hand in hers, the desperate grip of someone who believed she could not fail.Lucian leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes watching her with a weight that steadied even when it pressed heavy. “You did what needed to be done,” he said quietly.Saraphina exhaled slowly. “I did what my heart demanded. But what if it wasn’t enough? Malrec will not stop with raids.”Kaelen dropped heavily into the chair opposite her, blades still at his back, eyes flashing with restless anger. “You’re right. He won’t stop. The man’s pride is bleeding. Every strike we land only makes him bleed harder. He

The chants still thundered through the ward, echoing against stone walls and shuttered windows. Saraphina stood at the heart of it, firelight casting her in gold and scarlet, her chest rising with each breath. The assassin’s body lay sprawled at her feet, his blade slick with both his own blood and Lucian’s.Kaelen crouched over the corpse, wiping his swords clean with the assassin’s cloak. His mouth was a thin line, but his eyes were burning. “A captain of the guard,” he muttered. “He didn’t send a cutpurse. He sent his own. That means Malrec isn’t even pretending anymore.”Mirielle slipped through the edge of the crowd, her hands full of fresh ledgers and leaflets that had somehow multiplied even in the chaos. She thrust them into eager hands, her voice sharp as a knife. “See for yourselves! Even his captains spill your blood in the streets! Who is the real traitor here?”The people roared, fists raised high. The energy had shifted from fear to fury.Saraphina’s gaze was drawn back

The sound rose before the shapes appeared: a pounding like a hundred drums, boots slamming cobbles in hard, even time. The ward that had whispered Saraphina’s name all night now howled it. The chant rolled from mouth to mouth until it was less a sound than a living thing.They were not soldiers the people faced. They were neighbors, grocers, smiths, washerwomen, boys who had once helped Mirielle copy ledgers by lamplight. They came with broken tools for weapons, with kitchen knives, with iron tongs red from furnace work. Some carried nothing but raw courage and the memory of how the council had lit their homes.Saraphina stood in the center, hands empty for once, because she wanted this to look like a rising of the people, not a magic show. Flames still curled at her fingertips, faint and ready, but she kept them coiled, a promise kept in her palms.“Do not give them the reason to call you monsters,” Lucian said at her side. His voice was ragged but steady. The bandage on his shoulder

The night was restless. Even behind the thick shutters of the safehouse, the sound of the city never stilled. Somewhere distant, metal clanged against stone. A man’s voice shouted, answered by another, then muffled into silence.Saraphina sat at the long table, a single candle burning low between her hands. The flame flickered against her fingers, warming her skin, but her thoughts were colder than the stone walls.Lucian stepped in quietly. His presence filled the room even before he spoke. “You haven’t slept.”She gave him a weary smile. “Neither have you.”He pulled a chair close, the scrape echoing. “The city is on edge. Kaelen’s scouts say Malrec has stationed soldiers at every gate. No one leaves, no one enters. It’s a cage now.”Saraphina’s hand tightened around the candleholder. “And the people inside that cage are being starved of truth.”Lucian studied her. “You’re thinking of speaking again.”Her silence was enough of an answer.Kaelen barged in then, sharp-eyed, cloak stil

The safehouse was heavy with silence, broken only by the crackle of the lantern flame. Saraphina sat hunched over the rough table, her palms pressed against the worn wood. The weight of what had been revealed in the ruins still clung to her like chains.Lucian moved quietly behind her, the sound of his boots measured, careful, as if even the air around her might shatter. “Phina,” he said softly, his voice breaking through the storm in her chest. “You’ve been staring at that wall for an hour.”She blinked, realizing she hadn’t noticed the passage of time. “Because if I stop thinking, I’ll feel. And if I feel…” She shook her head, unwilling to let the words finish.Lucian crouched beside her, his eyes searching her face. “You don’t have to carry it alone. Whatever the council has twisted, whatever Malrec claims, it doesn’t change what you are. I know you.”Her throat tightened. “But what if they’re right? What if the curse… what if the fire in me isn’t mine, but something they planted?