Chapter 145 Shadows of the night

Chapter 145: Chapter 145 Shadows of the night

Middle of the night, Killian, Damian, and Eugene had somehow sneaked close to Noah, sleeping side by side with him, the three of them surrounding him from both sides of the bed. Noah was completely unaware of the ridiculous situation. He was sleeping peacefully, his breathing soft and steady, while the three Moonlight Alphas looked almost as if they were guarding him in their sleep.

Lysander, however, couldn’t sleep. In fact, sleep wasn’t something he understood at all. The demon sat on a chair nearby, his long legs crossed as he stared at the four people occupying the bed. As a demon, he could remain awake for an entire week without feeling tired. He didn’t need sleep the way humans and other supernatural beings did. The truth was even stranger. Lysander had never actually slept before. Not once.

He had spent centuries existing without ever knowing what it felt like to close his eyes and surrender consciousness. For him, darkness was never rest. It was simply darkness.

Tonight, however, he found himself strangely restless. Perhaps it was because Noah was right there. Perhaps it was because the strange mark had appeared. Or perhaps it was because everything around them had changed so drastically that even Lysander’s ancient instincts were beginning to sense something coming.

He slowly stood from the chair. Since this was his sanctuary, there was no need to worry about enemies sneaking in. The entire place was protected by powerful demonic magic, and soft magical lights illuminated the halls and gardens even in the dead of night.

Lysander quietly walked toward the door. Before leaving, he glanced back at the bed. His eyes immediately landed on Noah. Even from where he stood, Lysander could hear his heartbeat.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

His demonic senses were especially sensitive to it, and ever since the mark had appeared on Noah, something about that heartbeat had become almost impossible for him to ignore. A small smile slowly appeared on Lysander’s face. It was soft. Genuine. Bright. A smile that none of them had ever seen on his face before. If Killian, Damian, Eugene, or even Noah had witnessed it, they probably would have lost their minds on the spot. Because this was Lysander Valmont—the demon prince who rarely smiled sincerely, the man who could look at someone as though he were deciding exactly how to destroy their soul. Yet right now, he looked almost peaceful.

He turned away before anyone could wake. Slowly opening the door, Lysander stepped outside and closed it behind him with barely a sound.

He walked through the quiet hallway, eventually reaching the room where Marcus had been placed. The large bed stood beneath the dim magical lights. Marcus was lying completely still. His body looked almost lifeless. There was no movement in his chest. No visible rise and fall. No breath escaping his lips. Anyone seeing him for the first time would have assumed he was dead. But he wasn’t. His body was still warm, and his pulse continued to beat beneath his skin. His soul, however, was somewhere else.

Lysander stared at him for a long moment before his expression darkened. "Emperor Damon Ashborn," he muttered coldly. "Are you trying to start a war with me or something?" His crimson eyes narrowed. "You dare make my baby boy cry?" His jaw tightened. "How bold of a mortal to do something so distasteful." A faint hiss escaped between his teeth.

Lysander had been patient enough. Far more patient than anyone would have expected from a demon. But patience had limits. And Damon Ashborn had been stepping on those limits repeatedly.

Lysander turned away from Marcus and continued walking. Then he heard something. A faint humming sound. His brows lifted. Someone else was awake.

Following the sound, Lysander eventually reached the outside porch. Under the moonlight stood Lamia Alexandria. The Phoenix witch was quietly staring toward the sky while humming under his breath. Lysander stopped. Of course. A Phoenix witch. He should have expected that one of them would also be awake.

Lysander didn’t immediately approach him. He knew better than to underestimate Phoenix witches. After all, one of their kind had once managed to trap him inside that cursed coffin. That alone was enough reason to remain cautious. Still, Lamia intrigued him. Perhaps it was time they finally had the conversation they had been avoiding.

Lysander stepped closer. "Can’t sleep?" His voice echoed through the quiet night.

Lamia turned around, and surprisingly, he didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look startled. It was almost as though he had known Lysander would eventually come looking for him. Lamia’s eyes briefly met his before he turned away again, returning his attention to the moonlit sky. He didn’t answer.

Lysander raised an eyebrow. "You don’t want to talk?" Still nothing. "I see." A smirk appeared on Lysander’s lips. "Someone is still mad at me because I beat his ass so well."

Lamia’s face immediately twisted into a deep frown. He slowly turned toward Lysander. "Just why are you out here?" His voice carried obvious irritation. "I came here to meditate, and here you are trying to distract me. Can you stop?"

Lysander scoffed. "Seems like you’re forgetting that this is my home." He spread his arms slightly. "I get to walk around wherever I please. So do get that ungrateful expression off your face."

Lamia’s entire countenance changed. The irritation disappeared. What replaced it was something far more venomous. "I don’t know what you’re thinking or what plan you have for Ashton," Lamia said quietly, his eyes narrowing. "But I promise you one thing. I will expose you to him." Lysander’s expression didn’t change. "And that cocky smile of yours will disappear." His voice grew sharper. "You’re an ass, and you’ll always be one. Demons deserve hell and nothing good because you people are trash on your own."

Lysander remained completely rigid. His aura began to radiate around him. The temperature of the air seemed to shift. Yet he didn’t attack. Instead, he gave Lamia a calm look. "Demons are bad, right?" Lamia’s expression hardened. "Isn’t that what children are taught?" Lysander tilted his head. "But you do know that your people can make choices far worse and more evil than demons, don’t you?" His voice became colder. "What about Damon Ashborn?"

Lamia froze.

"Isn’t he human?" Lysander took a step closer. "And look at what is happening." His crimson eyes gleamed. "Are we demons supposed to take the blame for that too?"

Lamia didn’t answer.

Lysander continued. "I look at you and Rose and sometimes I can’t help but laugh." His words were sharp, but there was something deliberate behind them. "You keep judging everything based on what you believe demons are supposed to be. Evil. Cruel. Untrustworthy." He scoffed. "But if you keep holding onto that cheap ideology, you might lose Ashton forever."

Lamia’s eyes widened slightly. Lysander noticed. Good. He had struck the right place.

"You’ve already noticed that this isn’t the same Ashton you knew," Lysander continued. "Haven’t you?" Lamia’s fingers curled slightly. "And perhaps that’s a good thing." Lysander’s expression became almost mocking. "Because I would be irritated if the person I care about had friends who weren’t even capable of being happy for him."

Those words hit Lamia harder than expected. He staggered backward slightly. His expression faltered. "You’re trying to blackmail me, aren’t you?"

"No." Lysander’s answer came immediately. "I’m trying to make you think."

Lamia clenched his jaw. "I won’t do that to my friend." His voice shook slightly. "I love him too much for that." He paused. "I’m just scared."

For the first time, the venom in his voice weakened.

Lysander stared at him. Then he laughed. A low, quiet laugh. "Keep telling yourself that."

Lamia glared at him.

"But get this straight." Lysander’s smile disappeared. "He is already pissed at you and Rose." Lamia’s heart sank. "So make one more mistake, and I can assure you that whatever friendship you think you still have with him will be destroyed." Lysander stepped closer, his voice becoming quieter. "Maybe then you’ll finally understand that judging people so harshly doesn’t accomplish anything useful."

He turned around. The conversation was over.

Lamia watched him walk away. He hadn’t realized it at first, but that had been Lysander’s entire purpose. He hadn’t come outside because he couldn’t sleep. He had come to strike a chord. To make Lamia question everything he had believed about demons, about Lysander, and most importantly, about Noah. And judging by the expression on Lamia’s face, it was working.

Lamia slowly ran a hand through his hair. Oliver’s words suddenly returned to him. Let Noah make his own choice. Oliver had warned him. He didn’t know what would happen. He didn’t know what Noah would choose. And perhaps that was the problem. Lamia had been so focused on protecting Noah from the future that he hadn’t realized he was beginning to interfere with the present.

His thoughts drifted back to everything that had happened. The academy. The Emperor. The sword. Marcus. The strange soul magic. The mark on Noah. And then Lysander. Everything had started spiraling out of control around the same time Lysander escaped that damned coffin.

Lamia frowned. If Lysander had never escaped, perhaps half of their troubles wouldn’t have happened. At least, that was what he had believed. But then another thought entered his mind. Lysander was also the only person among them powerful enough to truly protect Noah from certain threats. And despite everything Lamia believed about demons, Lysander had been protecting Noah. He had stayed by him. He had fought for him. He had even risked starting a war for him.

Lamia slowly exhaled. "So why am I still scared?" He looked toward the moon. Maybe because fear wasn’t always about what someone had already done. Sometimes it was about what they could do.

Lamia closed his eyes. "Let’s just finish this mission without complications." His voice was barely a whisper. "Nothing should go wrong again." He swallowed. "Please."

He wanted peace. He wanted to finish his mission. He wanted Noah safe. And more than anything, he didn’t want to see death and destruction surrounding the people he cared about again. Whether his prayer was nothing more than a baseless wish, Lamia didn’t know. But right now, it was the only hope he had.

Finally, he turned and walked back inside. He didn’t notice the darkness moving behind him. A thin trail of black smoke slipped silently through the doorway. It followed Lamia. Quiet. Almost invisible. It drifted through the hallway like a living shadow before slowly turning toward the direction of Noah’s bedroom.