Serpent Emperor's Bride

Chapter 244: The Forgotten Prince And The Forgotten Child

[Silthara Palace — Zahryssar — The Early Morning Before Dawn]

CRASH!!!

A crystal vase shattered against the wall.

SLAM!!!

A silver wine goblet flew across the chamber.

THUD!!!

An ancient chair overturned.

"AAGGHHHHHHHHHHH—!!!"

The roar echoed throughout the Imperial Palace. Servants froze; knights lowered their heads. Even the guards outside the chamber doors dared not move because everyone knew.

The Emperor was furious inside the chamber...Slyvarakh stood alone, silver hair disheveled. His breathing was uneven, his silver eyes burning with madness.

Broken glass littered the floor, wine stained the carpets, and several expensive decorations lay destroyed. Yet none of it eased the fury consuming him.

Nothing...absolutely nothing, and then his voice cracked like thunder.

"HOW?! HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?!"

A pulse of black magic exploded from his body. The curtains shook violently; candles extinguished themselves. The shadows along the walls twisted unnaturally.

Slyvarakh staggered backward, his hand immediately grabbing the edge of a table; his breathing grew heavier, faster, and more desperate.

The sensation was unmistakable; his power was fading, and that terrified him because for the first time since his resurrection...he felt vulnerable. The realization alone was enough to drive him mad, and then his fist slammed into the table.

CRACK!!

Wood splintered instantly as his voice lowered dangerously.

"WHO? Who entered the Inner Sanctum? Who could it be? Who knew about that hidden sanctum?"

Silence answered him. The emperor’s jaw tightened, and his silver eyes darkened. "I shall find you. I shall tear you apart. I shall feed your soul to the dead."

Black mist gathered around his feet, writhing, hungry and ancient. Yet even as the darkness obeyed him... Slyvarakh could feel it, the weakness, the instability, and the decay.

Something had touched the source; someone knew, and that truth frightened him more than death itself. Outside the chamber... Sarash stood quietly, listening and waiting.

The sounds of destruction continued behind the doors. Another vase shattered, another scream echoed, and another outburst of rage.

Yet Sarash merely smiled, a very small smile. A smile so faint most people would have missed it.

Then he turned and walked away. His white robes flowed behind him; the servants immediately bowed, the guards lowered their heads, and nobody dared meet his eyes because no matter how Slyvarakh treats him, he is still the prince of this empire.

Meanwhile...Sarash’s thoughts remained elsewhere; the smile disappeared. Replaced by calculation, cold, precise, and merciless, the realization echoed through his mind.

"He is weaker but not weak. He still possesses black magic and is even weakened...he remains one of the strongest beings on this continent with forbidden power."

Sarash continued walking through the silent corridors. Moonlight spilled through stained-glass windows, painting silver patterns across the floor beautifully.

Yet somehow lonely, much like the prince himself.

Before Malik Zeramet returned...before the rightful ruler reclaimed his throne... Sarash needed a solution, a permanent one. Because if Slyvarakh recovered his strength...everything would begin again.

The executions, the fear, the bloodshed, and the suffering.

His fingers slowly clenched; his voice barely rose above a whisper. "The empire has suffered enough. We have to find a way to end his forbidden magic and...end Slyvarakh entirely."

Then—

"I know how to end him."

Sarash froze completely as he heard the voice had come from behind him, soft, gentle, and far too young.

Slowly...very slowly...he turned and looked down. A small figure stood beneath the moonlight. Lady Nyra.

Silence filled the corridor for a moment; neither spoke. Then Sarash blinked before slowly kneeling to her height. A small, genuine, and rare smile appeared.

"Lady Nyra, what are you doing here?"

Nyra stared at him, quietly and patiently. As though searching for something, then her small hand reached upward, resting against his cheek.

Sarash froze again. Lady Nyra tilted her head, studying him as a normal serpent. Then softly she asked, "Does the pain not disappear?"

Silence.

The question struck harder than any blade. Sarash stared, unable to answer immediately because somehow...somehow...the child had seen through everything: the lashes, the loneliness, the grief, and the exhaustion.

All of it.

His smile became gentler and sadder as his answer came honestly. "No, a pain never disappears, not completely."

Nyra lowered her gaze, then quietly nodded. As though she had expected that answer. Sarash gently touched her head.

"I heard you’ve locked yourself inside your chamber. Is it because you miss your Malik and Malika?"

Lady Nyra immediately nodded without hesitation, and then a question came quickly, almost desperately.

"Are they alive?"

Sarash’s heart tightened, then he smiled, asking, "Do you miss them?"

"They are the only ones who treated me as a child, then a genius serpent."

Sarash felt a loneliness in her voice and replied, "They are alive."

Lady Nyra’s eyes widened slightly, hope appearing within them, and Sarash continued, "Wherever they are...they are surviving. And I believe they will return."

Nyra nodded, holding tightly onto those words. Then suddenly she spoke again.

"I found a way to kill him."

Silence. The corridor became still. Even the wind seemed to stop. Sarash stared and then frowned. "Lady Nyra, children should not concern themselves with such things. Why don’t you go back to your chamber and go back to slee—"

"I studied black magic." The interruption came instantly, and this time... Sarash froze completely.

His eyes widened, and the smile vanished. For several seconds...he simply stared at her. Because the child before him wasn’t joking, wasn’t imagining things, and wasn’t playing.

She was serious, then Nyra calmly continued, "And I know where his weakness is."

The corridor became dangerously silent. Sarash felt his heartbeat quicken for the first time in many months; maybe an actual solution has been found.

He rose to his feet, never taking his eyes off her. The little girl simply extended her hand, confident, certain, and waiting. Then she smiled, small and mysterious. Far too mature for a child her age.

"Come, let’s go to my chamber."

Moonlight spilled across the corridor. Silver light stretched across ancient marble floors. The palace walls remained silent beneath the embrace of darkness; only two figures continued walking through the sleeping halls.

A forgotten prince and a forgotten child. For a long while...neither spoke. Sarash simply held Lady Nyra’s small pinky finger as she walked beside him.

The gesture was simple, almost insignificant. Yet somehow...neither let go. Then suddenly—

"May I ask something?" Nyra’s small voice echoed through the corridor.

Sarash glanced down. "Of course."

Lady Nyra lowered her gaze, watching her own footsteps. Then quietly asked, "Why do you want to die?"

Silence.

The question struck him harder than any whip, harder than any blade and harder than any betrayal. Sarash’s footsteps slowed, then stopped.

The moonlight painted silver across his white hair. For several moments...he couldn’t answer because the child had asked something nobody else dared ask, not even himself.

Then finally...they began walking again, and Sarash answered honestly. "I have no reason to live."

The words escaped quietly, without drama and without self-pity. Simply truth, the truth he carried every day, the truth hidden behind every smile and the truth buried beneath every bow and every polite word.

Nyra listened silently, then looked up. Her eyes reflected the moonlight, bright, lonely, and ancient beyond her years.

"Then...Should I die too?"

Sarash froze completely. The question stole the air from his lungs, and he looked down at her. The child continued walking, as though discussing the weather and as though discussing something ordinary.

"My house is gone. My bloodline was executed for treason, and now..." She lowered her gaze. "...Malika is not here anymore."

Silence.

The corridor seemed colder, the moonlight seemed heavier, and then Nyra softly asked, "If I have no reason either...should I die too?"

Sarash stopped walking again. For several moments...he could not answer because for the first time...he heard his own thoughts coming from someone else’s mouth.

A lonely child, a child who had lost everything just like him.

Then slowly...very slowly... Sarash knelt before her, his eyes meeting hers, gentle and soft. Perhaps for the first time in years, then he reached out, placing a hand upon her head.

"I hope not." Nyra blinked. Sarash smiled faintly. "I hope you find a reason. A reason to laugh, a reason to smile, and a reason to stay."

Lady Nyra stared at him and stretched both arms upward. "My feet hurt."

The declaration arrived so abruptly that Sarash blinked and stared at her for long. The little girl remained completely serious.

"My feet, they hurt."

Sarash couldn’t help it. Lay Nyra raised her arms higher, demanding, expectant, and entirely spoiled.

"Carry me."

The prince sighed dramatically. "As expected of a noble."

Nyra nodded proudly; another laugh escaped him, and before he realized it... Sarash had already lifted her into his arms. The little girl immediately settled comfortably against his shoulder.

As though she belonged there, as though she had done it a thousand times before. Her feet dangled freely, swinging back and forth.

Then together...they continued walking through the palace. The forgotten prince and the forgotten child, neither realizing something had changed.

Something small, something fragile, and something precious. Neither of them had found the answer they were searching for; neither had found a reason to live. Not yet, but perhaps...without realizing it...they had become one for each other. And beneath the silver gaze of the moon...for the first time in many years...neither of them felt completely alone.