Chapter 4

That night, Kael returned to Moonward Hall.

By candlelight, his gaze fell on my bandaged ankle. He gently stroked my hair.

"Does it still hurt?" His voice was tender.

I shook my head, lowering my eyes.

"Thank you for your concern, Alpha. It's nothing."

He smiled and pulled something from his sleeve, taking my hand and sliding it on.

Cold and heavy. Another blood-red bracelet.

This one was even deeper in color than the morning's—so dark red it was nearly black. Under the candlelight, it looked like flowing blood.

"Do you like it?" He traced my wrist with his thumb.

I looked up, forcing a delighted smile.

"Anything you give me, I treasure, Alpha. This color is so unique."

"Good." He seemed pleased with my reaction, leaning down to kiss my forehead.

Then he rose from the bed.

"Since you like it so much, let me show you something interesting."

My heart skipped.

"It's so late. Where are we going, Alpha?"

"Somewhere fascinating." Kael pulled on his outer robe and wrapped me in a heavy cloak.

He called no servants to follow. Taking only a dim horn lantern, he led me out through Moonward Hall's back entrance.

Night lay thick around us. The palace paths were silent.

He guided me through a maze of turns until we reached a derelict courtyard with an abandoned well.

He pressed several spots along the well's edge. A stone slab shifted aside, revealing descending stairs. A dank, moldy stench mixed with the smell of blood rushed up to meet us.

My heart pounded in my chest.

Kael descended first, lantern in hand.

After a short while, the space opened up.

It was a massive underground chamber. The center held a sunken circular arena. Around it rose stone tiers with crude seating.

Not a palace hall—a fighting pit.

The place was empty now.

Strange torture implements hung on the walls, some still bearing dark brown stains.

"What is this?" My voice came out dry as I clutched the cloak tighter.

"One of my... recreational spaces." Kael led me to the high seats, his tone casual.

"Occasionally I watch performances here. Very entertaining."

He clapped lightly.

From the far end, a group of shackled prisoners were dragged out by guards on iron chains.

About ten people, skeletal and covered in overlapping scars—old and fresh.

My gaze locked onto them.

Not just scars.

Their wrists and ankles were bent at unnatural angles, swollen grotesquely. Several dragged broken legs as they moved.

My breathing grew ragged. Rage swelled inside me.

Those whip marks. Those deliberate breaks. Identical to the wounds on Elara's body.

I whipped my head toward Kael.

He leaned on one hand, watching the prisoners with interest. Even pleasure.

"Do you know, beloved," Kael said suddenly, looking at the bracelet on my wrist,

"How this treasure was made?"

I shook my head stiffly, throat tight, unable to speak.

Kael smiled.

"With their blood. Cultivated through a special process."

The moment he finished speaking, a guard in the arena swung an iron rod, smashing it into a prisoner's kneecap.

The crack of bone echoed clearly. A raw, ragged scream followed.

I sat beside him, watching this hellish scene unfold. My blood felt frozen. Hatred more intense than ever before consumed me.

Now I understood.

There was no losing control. No accidental drowning. All lies.

Every wound on Elara's body, every break, every moment of terror and pain—it all started here.

The one who truly killed Elara, who tortured her to death, was Kael.