Chapter 1117: The Forgotten Palace [Part 4]

Chapter 1117 – The Forgotten Palace [Part 4]

The three at the pillar were still trapped in Cyrinne’s spell, but not for long. Lux crossed the hall on the dead sigil lines. He retrieved his thrown dagger from the pinned sleeve as he passed, the blade slipping free with barely a whisper.

One dagger to the first.

A hand over the second’s mouth, blade under the ear.

The third broke from Cyrinne’s illusion with a sharp inhale, eyes widening, hand twitching toward his weapon.

Lux was already behind him.

One blade hooked beneath the guard’s chin, the other pressed flat against the armor rune at his spine.

A clean pull.

A silent cut.

The guard folded backward into Lux’s waiting arm, and Cyrinne finished him with a touch before his boots could scrape the floor.

Silence returned.

The chandelier shards continued hanging in the air.

Lux stood among six hidden bodies and slowly straightened his cuffs.

Cyrinne stared at him.

"What?" he asked.

"You fight beautifully."

Lux looked down at a small tear in his sleeve. "I fight expensively."

"That too."

Cyrinne smiled, and for a moment the ruined hall felt less dead around them. Dangerous still. Awful still. But there was something alive in the exchange, something sharp and warm and ridiculous threading through all that old rot.

Lux looked toward the sealed passage ahead.

The whisper returned faintly. "Closer..."

Cyrinne’s smile faded.

Lux tightened his grip on the daggers. "How much farther?"

"One more inner corridor," Cyrinne said. "Then the chamber."

"More guards?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful."

"Regretting coming?"

Lux glanced at her. His smile was dark. "No." He stepped over the dead sigil without touching it wrong, moving toward the next corridor like a shadow with gold teeth. "I’m regretting not charging Kaelmor consulting fees."

Cyrinne followed him with a soft, silent laugh that barely existed before the ruin swallowed it.

The next corridor was narrower. Because apparently this forgotten palace had been designed by someone who hated comfort, breathing room, and visitors with survival plans. The walls leaned inward like old judges sharing secrets.

Long scratches carved through the stone, too deep to be claws from ordinary beasts, too uneven to be decoration. The ceiling had cracked open in several places, letting down strands of dead light from some unseen sky above. Dust drifted in the air, but never landed. It floated there like the palace could not even commit to being dirty.

Lux moved first.

He kept low, daggers reversed in both hands, shoulders relaxed but ready. His entire presence shrank. Only the clean, cold shape of him remained. The businessman gone quiet. The lover gone hidden. The demon prince reduced to motion, breath, angle, blade.

Cyrinne watched him from half a step behind and felt an unwilling appreciation crawl up her spine.

Lux Vaelthorn was irritating.

That had been obvious.

Handsome, yes. Dangerous, yes. Charming in the way a poisoned contract could be charming if printed on expensive paper, absolutely. But watching him move like this was a different problem. He did not fight like Wrath.

He fought like an audit.

Silent.

Exact.

Unforgiving.

Every guard was a line item. Every patrol path, a ledger entry. Every exposed rune, a tax loophole waiting to be exploited with murder.

Cyrinne hated how attractive efficiency could be.

Ahead, two guards stood beside a collapsed archway, speaking in low voices. Their helmets were angled toward each other, but their bodies remained alert. Kaelmor spent well on guards. Lux respected the budget while deeply wanting to ruin the department.

He raised two fingers.

Cyrinne stopped.

Lux tilted his head toward the ceiling. A half-broken beam hung above the guards, cracked but steady. A torn banner dangled from it, its old royal crest scratched away. Below, the floor was clean enough to betray footsteps.

Lux’s eyes narrowed.

No sound grid here.

But there were bell moths.

Tiny pale insects clustered along the wall, wings folded, bodies glowing faintly. Lux saw them after the second breath. They were almost invisible against the stone, like flecks of old paint. But their wings trembled every time the guards moved.

Alarm creatures.

Disgusting.

Creative.

Bad for stealth.

Lux pointed at the moths.

Cyrinne’s face tightened. She mouthed, ’Sensitive.’

Lux nodded.

He moved.

Not toward the guards.

Toward the wall.

His left dagger slid between two stones, catching a crack. His right hand found another. He climbed without scraping, body pressed close, muscles controlled so tightly even his coat seemed afraid to rustle. Up, sideways, then along the beam. One boot touched the wall, never the floor. He paused above the guards, hanging in the shadow of the broken banner.

Below, one guard shifted.

"I heard something."

Lux froze.

Cyrinne vanished behind a broken statue.

The other guard turned slightly. "Where?"

"Above."

Lux did not breathe.

The guard lifted his head.

His eyes passed over the banner.

Over the beam.

Cyrinne flicked one finger.

Across the corridor, one bell moth opened its wings.

Just one.

A faint glimmer.

The guard’s gaze snapped toward it.

Lux dropped.

He fell straight down behind them, landing between both guards like a death sentence written in cursive. His daggers moved before his boots fully touched stone. Left blade across the first guard’s throat rune. Right blade under the second guard’s jaw, severing the alarm charm before flesh even understood injury. He twisted, stepped behind the first, and drove the pommel into the base of his skull.

The second tried to inhale.

Lux’s hand clamped over his mouth. His dagger slid once, clean and close.

No cry.

No blood spray.

Just loss.

Both bodies sagged.

Lux caught one with his shoulder, the other with his knee, lowering them to the ground as if putting drunk executives into chairs after a failed banquet. He dragged them behind the archway, arranged their limbs so no armor edge scraped stone, then wiped both blades on the inner lining of one cloak.

Cyrinne approached, silent again. "You handled that well."

Lux looked at the bell moths. "I dislike organic alarm systems."

"They are cheaper than sentient wards."

"They are maintenance nightmares."

"Are you judging Kaelmor’s security expenses?"

"I am judging his entire operational model."

Cyrinne leaned closer, eyes glinting. "And?"

"Overstaffed, too dependent on fear, and his pest control contract is questionable."

"Only you could assess a death palace like quarterly finance."

"I have standards."