Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 81 - Chapitre 90

🎀CHAPTER EIGHTY 🎀 Ashvale The carriage rolled through the gates of Ashvale. Lord Asher had returned. The guards straightened at once, backs stiff, eyes forward. Not a single one dared move out of line. The carriage came to a halt. Asher stepped down first, then turned, pulling his cloak around Elira as he helped her out, shielding her from every curious eye. Servants who had been whispering moments ago scattered instantly, their voices dying in their throats the second they saw him. Maera hurried forward, her steps quick, almost eager. “My lord… you’ve returned.” She dipped into a graceful bow, her voice smooth. Her eyes flicked to the woman in his arms, curiosity flashing. Then a faint smile tugging at her lips. Asher didn’t even spare her a glance. He walked past her as if she wasn’t there, guiding Elira toward the entrance without a word. Maera straightened slowly, her smile fading into something thinner. “Who’s that?” she murmured under her breath,

🎀CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO🎀 “Take her away,” Asher commanded. Kai immediately stepped forward and seized Maera. “My lord… please, just one last chance… I beg you!” she cried, struggling. Kai dragged her away, her voice fading as she was pulled from the throne room. Asher’s gaze turned to Damir. “Go… rest. You’ve earned it,” he said. Damir bowed, then walked to the door. In a fluid motion, he transformed back into a massive black eagle and flew out, leaving only Slyvara behind. Silence settled over the room for a long moment. “Slyvara…” Asher called. “My lord,” she replied, attentive. “Do you know why I asked you to watch over the palace?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with authority. She remained silent. “I wanted to test you,” he continued. “You weren’t the one I truly assigned. But… you weren’t bad. Consider it a first trial.” Slyvara lowered her head in a deep bow. “I gave my word. As long as you protect me and shelter me, I will serve you.” “It’s no

🎀CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR🎀 Serenya let out a quiet sigh and walked past Zayla, taking a seat as if nothing had happened. She lifted a teacup and took a slow sip, unbothered by the storm in front of her. For a moment, she said nothing. Then she set the cup down. “You think I took her from you,” she said calmly. “But that isn’t how this works.” Zayla’s hands clenched at her sides, her breathing still uneven. “Your life… your path… it isn’t built on what feels good,” Serenya continued. “It’s built on what must happen.” “That’s not fair,” Zayla shot back, her voice shaking. “No,” Serenya agreed quietly. “It isn’t.” The simple answer made Zayla freeze. Serenya’s gaze lifted to her. “But fairness has never been what shapes fate,” she went on. “Every life is a thread. Some are long. Some are cut short. Not because they are less important… but because their purpose is different.” Zayla’s lips trembled. “So my mother’s purpose was just to die?” Serenya’s eyes softened

🎀CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX🎀 The street was lively, filled with people moving about, talking, laughing. Irene dragged Zayla through the crowd like she had somewhere very important to be. “Wait—slow down,” Zayla said, almost tripping. “We’ll miss it!” Irene shot back without stopping. “Miss what?” “The dumplings, of course!” They finally stopped in front of a small food stall. Steam rose into the air, carrying a warm, rich smell that made Zayla pause. It smelled… good. Really good. Irene let go of her and walked up to the vendor like she had done this a hundred times. “Two plates,” she said quickly. Zayla stood there, looking around. A few moments later, Irene came back, holding out a plate. “Here.” Zayla hesitated, then took it. The dumplings were warm in her hands. She stared at them for a second… then took a small bite. Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh…” she whispered. It was soft, hot, and full of flavor. “This is…” she paused, taking another bite, “real

🎀CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT🎀 They pushed deeper into the crowd, the noise swelling into a chaotic symphony, laughter, music, the sizzle of roasted meats, and the sharp scent of spiced wine hanging thick in the air. Suddenly, Irene yanked Zayla to a halt, her fingers digging into her arm. “Look!” Irene whispered excitedly, pointing ahead. A tight circle had formed. In the center, a bare-chested man stood with a lit torch held high. The flames danced across his oiled skin like living gold. Zayla’s brow furrowed. Before she could speak, the man tilted his head back, took a deep breath… and blew. A roaring jet of fire exploded from his mouth, slicing through the night like a dragon’s wrath. The heat slammed against Zayla’s face. She flinched violently, clutching Irene’s arm hard enough to bruise. “What in the gods’ names...?!” she gasped, eyes wide. “How is he doing that?!” The crowd erupted in wild cheers as the flames lit up their awed faces. Irene turned to her slowly,