The Damned Demon
chapter-625

The morning was brisk, a faint mist lingering over the palace grounds as Rhygar observed his mother from a discreet vantage point. Lysandra, cloaked and moving with a purpose that suggested urgency, swept out of her balcony and into the dark crimson skies. Her cloak billowed around her, an uncommon accessory that piqued Rhygar's curiosity. It was not the attire she typically wore for her official duties or casual outings. This cloak seemed designed to conceal, to blend in with the surroundings, or perhaps to shield her from prying eyes.

Rhygar's heart raced with a mix of apprehension and suspicion. He had seen her don this cloak once before—right after his father had departed for his extended trip. The memory of that day flashed through his mind, fueling his resolve.

Where was she going in such secrecy?

This time, he was prepared, armed not just with intent but with a means to follow her undetected.

For years, Rhygar had thrown himself into an intensive study of his mother's patterns. He had painstakingly charted her usual destinations, the frequency of her visits, and her behaviors to make sure of her well-being and, of course, to make sure no filthy men would try to take advantage of her.

He had seen some of his father's consorts having affairs on the side, and a few of them were too careless that his father caught them, and they ended up losing their lives as punishment. Of course, he hated some of their children, so he reported them himself.

But he feared that his mother might succumb to such mistakes, especially now that Agonon had left her miserable. Apart from that, no man should deserve his mother's attention like that. Only he, as her son, was allowed to take care of her and comfort her since she must be still grieving.

Otherwise, she wouldn't have been more cold to him.

But he was glad to see that she had no such affairs until the past few months where he noticed her disappearing for a short while every week, making him feel suspicious.

Through this meticulous observation, he identified anomalies in her routine—specifically, the mysterious disappearances that didn't fit her known schedule.

Equipped with a special cloak—courtesy of his father, designed to obscure his aura—Rhygar felt a surge of confidence. He wouldn't have consulted his father if not to receive this cloak and still felt some regret telling him.

As for this powerful garment, it was crafted to disrupt detection spells, a perfect tool for a son intent on shadowing a mother greatly skilled in the arts of tracking mana.

Once Lysandra had sufficiently distanced herself from the palace, Rhygar initiated his plan. He waited just long enough to ensure she would not sense an immediate pursuit. When he felt safe, he set out towards the area he had marked on his map—a secluded region he had managed to narrow down based on his detailed investigation.

It was somewhere in this region, he suspected, that the secret to his mother's odd behaviors lay hidden.

As he navigated through the paths outside the Dracyra Continent, Rhygar's mind raced with possibilities. What was his mother hiding? Why seek such seclusion in a place so far from home? His steps were cautious, his eyes constantly scanning the environment for any sign of a place his mother could have gone to.

Not long after he came near a valley, which was enshrouded in a heavy, unsettling mist, and seemed almost otherworldly as Rhygar ventured deeper. His steps were cautious, the silence around him punctuated only by the occasional distant calls of the flying beasts. The mist thickened, dampening his clothes and chilling his skin, yet he pressed forward. This place, the Valley of Shadows as some called it, was known for its eerie calm and the legends that whispered of its curse. Yet, it was the only place left unchecked, the last location where his mother could be hiding her secrets.

Meanwhile, deep within the heart of the valley beside the infamous Lake of No Return, Lysandra stood quietly. The lake's dark purple waters, stirred slightly by a gentle breeze, mirrored the blood-red hue of the setting sun, creating a hauntingly beautiful scene. Lysandra's heart drummed unusually, a mix of anticipation and unease as she waited for Asher, her cloak drawn tightly around her voluptuous curves.

"You are always so early," came Asher's familiar voice, cutting through the stillness of the evening air. Lysandra turned slowly, her face hidden beneath her hood.

"Why are you wearing a cloak again?" Asher asked, his voice laced with concern and a slight frown creasing his brow.

"It doesn't matter. I will just see Agonon and leave," Lysandra replied, her voice carrying a hint of impatience, trying to deflect his concern.

"No, you aren't going anywhere until you tell me what happened," Asher insisted, taking a step closer to her.

Knowing he won't take 'No' for an answer, with a resigned sigh, Lysandra lowered her hood, revealing her face pale and marked by sweat, "It was a mistake...I shouldn't have let myself heal from the poison. He learned that I somehow got healed within a day, and apparently, he hadn't given me permission to heal myself. I suppose he never expected I would be able to heal from it. But at least this time, it doesn't hurt as much as before," she explained, her tone even though her voice was weak.

"Nonsense. Even if it doesn't hurt, you don't look alright. Sit down and let me heal you since it's not too late," Asher responded firmly, his concern palpable.

"Didn't you hear what I said? I can't let you heal me. He will just do it again. Just let it be. You don't have to worry about this," Lysandra protested weakly, shaking her head as she attempted to dissuade him from further action.

Asher's eyes, filled with a potent mix of concern and determination, met Lysandra's defiant gaze. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate, his presence almost overwhelming in its intensity.

"I won't let you keep suffering like this," he murmured, his voice deep and resonant, echoing slightly in the quiet of the valley.

"That's enough. Don't come near me," Lysandra cautioned, her voice soft and shaky, betraying the pain she tried so hard to mask.

Ignoring her protests, Asher moved even closer, the space between them charged with an unspoken tension. He reached out, his hand grabbing her slender hand with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his earlier assertiveness, "Just calm down. I won't make it completely go away, but I can at least take away some of the pain for you, and Drakar wouldn't even notice," he assured her, his voice soothing.

Reluctantly, Lysandra's resistance faded, and she allowed him to guide her to sit down before him. Asher then maneuvered behind her and gently pulled down her cloak, revealing the elegant dark red dress beneath while her graceful dark silver wings extended sideways.

As he reached for the zipper at her back, Lysandra turned to face him, an unspoken question in her eyes.

"Your back suffered the worst. So, I will treat them from within," Asher explained softly, meeting her gaze with a reassuring look.

With a hesitant nod, Lysandra turned back around, giving him access to her wounded back. Asher slowly unzipped her dress, exposing the stark reality of her injuries—her previously graceful back was a canvas of bloody lash marks and deep bruises, each one a mark of her suffering.

Asher's touch was gentle as he traced the contours of her wounds, his fingers tingling with the suppressed power of his dark green mana.

Lysandra tensed initially but gradually relaxed under the warmth of his touch, a soft sigh escaping her as she felt the pain beginning to ebb.

"He hurts you like this because he knows you are stronger than him. Why did you let him for all these years? You could have taken a chance," Asher spoke softly, his hands glowing with a dark green light as he began to kill some of the poison beneath her wounds but not enough to make her look as if she was healed.

Lysandra's response was tinged with a mixture of resignation and defiance, "You don't understand. Every time I tried to go up against him, I ended up losing things I cared about. Now all I have is my own life, and I am not going to waste it until I am sure I can waste his."

"How long do you plan to wait? Until there is nothing more left to heal?" Asher's voice broke through the silence, firm yet filled with concern, challenging her to confront the truth.

Other than wanting to earn her trust completely before it was too late, he didn't like seeing her like this. He didn't know if it was just guilt or something more.

Lysandra, usually so composed and untouchable, found herself strangely agitated by his probing.

Her voice, a whisper barely audible above the gentle lapping of the lake's waters, carried a mix of confusion and vulnerability, "Why do you care so much?"

"Because right now you have no one by your side," Asher replied, his tone softening, a stark contrast to the strength of his words. His statement was simple but loaded with empathy, reaching out to the depths of her soul.

Lysandra's fingers curled into her palms as this truth stabbed into her heart.

Asher, sensing her turmoil, gently nudged her chin, coaxing her to look at him, "But I won't let you be alone anymore. I am not saying this as just an ally but as a man who can't let a woman like you hurt like this anymore. You have done well to hold on this long. But now…" His voice trailed off as he leaned closer, his eyes locked onto hers, "...why don't you let me hold your hand?"

Lysandra looked into Asher's shimmering dark yellow eyes, finding in them a sincerity that touched a part of her she had long barricaded. Her words resonated with her soul more than she wanted to admit. She couldn't help but wish to stop this pain for a second and find solace in his warmth.

But her eyes flickered when she saw him slowly lean in, making her press her lips together as she briefly looked away with her eyes closed, "I…I can't…" She mumbled, feeling guilty towards her long-dead lover despite the passing of so many years. How can she let another man take his place in her heart?

Asher could now guess what was causing her turmoil, yet it only made her feel more admiration towards her.

"You know I have a past that I still can't let go," Asher whispered, making Lysandra slowly open her eyes while he added, "I let that past burden my heart more than it should have and almost robbed me of a second chance at happiness…a second chance to not be alone again."

Lysandra unconsciously turned her head back towards him as if she was surprised he had such a past. Feeling the truth and pain behind his words, she felt as if she could relate to him.

"So I won't tell you to move on because not even I have found a way yet. But even if I find one, it will always be a part of who I am, and that will never change. And the same goes for you. You have lost so much, and that has made you who you are. But you deserve to be happy again by finding a purpose, and I…" Asher looked into her eyes with a deep gaze as he cupped her face, "...want to be that purpose for you."

Lysandra felt the warm pool of emotions she had been suppressing in her heart ripple as his words echoed in her mind.

However, her mind froze as she saw Asher lean in, the world seemingly slowing down.

Before she could realize it, his lips met hers in a gentle kiss, an act so tender yet so profound. Lysandra found herself immobilized, caught in a whirlwind of emotions she hadn't allowed herself to feel in ages. The warmth of his lips was like a beacon in the cold darkness that had enveloped her heart, preventing her from thinking or acting to stop him.

It was as if her heart had finally taken control of her body.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her body's initial resistance melting away as she allowed herself to lean into the kiss, into the warmth of his embrace. At that moment, nothing else mattered except remembering how it felt like to be loved again