<h4>Chapter 224: Surely</h4>


    The lords of the court stood in uneasy silence, their gazes shifting between one another as though waiting for someone else to shoulder the weight of confession.


    Atst, Lord Noctare broke the silence, his tone grave and deliberate. He spoke not only to deliver their report, but also to wrest back attention from Drehk, who had been drawing too much of the king’s notice ofte.


    Noctare knew well that favor could shift into power, and power intomand — something he could not allow to be handed to another.


    "We killed every soul in the town," he dered, voice echoing across the vaulted chamber. "Both human and vampire alike. We burned their bodies down to ash—yet not a single one of them was a Zygon. Their forms never shifted, never revealed themselves, even when reduced to dust!"


    The words carried like iron through the stone hall, and the air seemed to darken with the weight of them.


    Lord Virelle’s voice followed, sharp and precise. He did not fear Zyren’s anger—not openly—for the king was never one tosh out so long as his authority was not challenged. And none of them had yet dared to trespass that line.


    "It was a trap," Virelle admitted, his lips curling in distaste. "A snare we walked straight into.


    They are not as mindless as we once believed." He stressed the word we, ensuring that the failurey on all of them, the lords, and not solely himself.


    ...and most especially not at all on the king, knowing better than to so much as indirectly me him in any way or manner.


    Lythari, unwilling to be overlooked and eager to prove her voice still held value, pressed forward.


    Her red eyes glinted under the torchlight, though her expression carried the same shadow of unease as the others.


    "We need a way to tell the difference," she insisted, her words quick, urgent. "If not, more lives will be lost!"


    The chamber stilled. All eyes turned to the throne at the far end of the hall. King Zyren sat there like a carving of obsidian, unmoving, unblinking, his crimson gaze locked forward but offering nothing.


    At first, none of them realized the peculiarity of his silence. They spoke, one after the other, their voices filling the cold air, yet Zyren remained as still as death itself.


    Only when the silence stretched too long, too heavy, did unease crawl up their spines.


    When atst Zyren spoke, his voice was quiet but edged like a de freshly drawn. "So... what way have youe up with?" His eyes fixed upon Lythari.


    She froze. His gaze burned into her, sharp as a torch held against dry kindling. Her breath caught in her throat.


    It was very clear that she had displeased him even as her mind began to run as to how and how best to fix it.


    ’I spoke just like they did...why are you focusing on me!’ She thought to herself lowering her gaze to hide the fear that creeped out of her soul.


    The other lords subtly stepped back, as though to distance themselves from the noose that had tightened around her.


    "S-surely," Zyren began to speak , "...surely my lords have devised a method to distinguish Zygons from mortals. Why else would they have summoned me here?"


    Zyren’s lips curved—not in amusement, but in contempt. His voice dropped to a low murmur, as though speaking only to himself, yet each word struck them like a hammer. "They would not... dare expect me to think for them."


    The silence that followed was suffocating. None dared to speak. None dared to breathe too loudly. Their usual masks of arrogance were stripped away, leaving only bare fear.


    Then Zyren’s voice cut the air once more. "Call Bovan. And bring the healers under Savira."


    Themand snapped like a whip.


    The guard to his right bowed instantly, gesturing sharply. Two others stationed along the hall broke into motion, sprinting out of the chamber to fulfill the order.


    Momentster, the doors thundered open again. The healers stumbled in—some running of their own will, others dragged by armored hands. Humans and vampires alike spilled across the floor, driven to their knees. At the forefront was Bovan, his face ashen, his body trembling like a reed in the wind. He looked as though he were already witnessing his own execution.


    The others shuffled back behind him, seeking refuge in his shadow, though none could hide from Zyren’s gaze. Bovan pressed his forehead to the stone floor, his voice breaking as he forced out words of submission.


    "We have failed you, your majesty! We... still have no means to distinguish human from Zygon." His chest heaved as though he had justid down a crushing burden. He lifted his head slightly, eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the blow of the executioner’s de.


    Zyren’s red eyes narrowed. "Really?"


    The single word froze them all. Then Zyren sighed, almostnguidly, though the sound carried the weight of doom. "Perhaps the loss of one family member each will impress upon you the urgency of the matter."


    He raised a hand. The guard at his side tensed, awaiting the signal.


    "Cut off a leg from each of them," Zyren said, his tone eerily calm. "Perhaps then they will take this task more seriously."


    Terror rippled through the kneeling healers. For the vampires among them, themand was a punishment, but one they could endure. Their limbs would grow back. For the humans, however, it was a sentence of lifelong crippling.


    And yet, to Bovan’s horror, the leader of the group only bowed lower, his voice quivering with something that sounded dangerously close to gratitude. "By your will!"


    ’By your will, my foot!’ Bovan screamed within himself. His chest thundered as though his heart sought to tear its way out. He knew he could not remain silent—not if he valued his life, or the lives of those who served under him.


    "My—my lord!" he stammered, voice cracking. "I... I believe there may be another solution!"


    The hall stilled again. Zyren’s eyes did not move, but the weight of his silence pressed on Bovan like a mountain. If his words faltered now, his death would be certain.


    He swallowed hard, forcing his trembling voice steady. "Perhaps... studying their bodies is not the way. There are abilities better suited. The temple’s white healing—its holy energy—it heals by purging what is impure, mending what even our sight cannot perceive. If there is a difference within the Zygon’s form, such an ability may expose it."


    His heart pounded, waiting for interruption. None came. The silence stretched, every second a de poised above his neck.


    "I propose a wide search," he pressed on quickly, bowing low until his forehead touched stone. "The priests could bless the people, one by one. It would appear as no more than ritual devotion—yet in truth, it would expose the difference between human and Zygon."


    For several long heartbeats, there was nothing. Then Zyren’s voice cut through, sharp but—shockingly—in agreement.


    "Do as he said," the kingmanded. "Bring priests from the temple. Conduct a wide search. Have them bless the citizens individually, so suspicion does not take root."


    The lords bowed deeply, their voices rising in solemn ord. "By your will, my king."


    Bovan’s breath escaped him in a rush of relief. He could almost taste survival—until Zyren’s next words froze the blood in his veins.


    "If this fails," Zyren said coldly, "for wasting our time, I expect you to surrender yourself to the guard. Perhaps they will do a better job proving whether you are human... or Zygon."


    The hall seemed to constrict around him. Death’s hand had brushed his heart, and the grip lingered.


    Zyren rose from the throne, his ck cloak whispering across the marble steps. Lord Noctare seized the moment to step forward, his voice loud and steady. "Yes, my king! But who shall oversee this mission you have assigned?"


    Zyren’s crimson gaze locked onto him. A thin smile curved his lips—sharp, knowing. "You," he said simply. "You can do it, can’t you, Lord Noctare? You can persuade the priests?"


    Noctare’s pride red even as he dropped to his knees. "I will do exactly as you havemanded, my king," he vowed, unable to mask the satisfaction in his voice.


    The pride was evident to all that he was more than satisfied to have gotten the mission instead of anyone else cause it meant that he could show his authority over both the nobles and the priests.


    Zyren gave a single nod, dismissing him with the gesture. He strode from the hall, his captain of the guard falling into step beside him.


    "Bring a carriage," Zyren ordered in a low tone, not bothering to turn his head. "I’ll tell you where we are going."


    The guard bowed and hurried off, unsurprised. It was not unusual for King Zyren to leave the castle unannounced, his destination known only to himself until thest possible moment.


    And so the lords remained behind in the echoing hall, each silently grateful that—for now—Zyren’s gaze wasn’t set on them but at the same time they couldn’t help but be envious of Noctare.<fn79ca> N?w ?ovel chapt?rs are published on FιndNovel</fn79ca>


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