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Chapter 50 - Chapter 50 : The Serpent’s Garden

The garden was too quiet.

Moonlight spilled over the hedges in silver streaks, sharp enough to look like blades. Statues lined the winding paths—angels, serpents, warriors frozen mid-swing—but their shadows were wrong. Too long. Too alive.

Elma kept her hood low as she followed Calista down the gravel path, every step crunching louder than it should have. Guards flanked them in perfect formation, lanterns swinging like pendulums. The flames inside never flickered.

"It feels like a trap," Elma murmured under her breath.

"It is," Calista replied, her voice steady even though Elma could see the tension in her jaw.

Ahead, the spiral path curved inward toward a marble platform. At its center sat a throne carved from obsidian, empty but glowing faintly in the moonlight. The Vale crest—the serpent coiled around a crown—was etched into every stone.

Nitron was waiting.

He didn't sit on the throne. He stood behind it, a glass of wine in hand, cloak draped like a shadow over his shoulders. Calm. Collected. Watching.

"Beautiful night," he said softly, his voice carrying through the stillness. "Perfect for… reflection."

Calista stopped a few paces from him, dipping her head in a graceful bow. Elma followed, but her body was coiled, ready.

Nitron's gaze swept over them both, lingering on Elma just long enough for the leash at her throat to burn. She didn't flinch.

"I've been considering loyalty," Nitron continued, swirling his wine. "A word tossed around this house so freely. But loyalty, true loyalty, is rare. It must be tested."

He gestured to the spiral path around them. The lanterns flickered—and the serpent carvings on the statues glimmered, as if waking up.

Elma's grip tightened on the shard hidden in her sleeve.

Nitron stepped aside, letting the moonlight fully reveal the throne. A serpent coiled around its back, carved from black marble, its jeweled eyes glowing faintly red.

"Tonight," Nitron said, voice smooth as glass, "you'll both prove your loyalty to me."

Calista's mask didn't crack, but Elma could feel her pulse quicken.

Nitron's smile was razor-thin. "Kneel."

They obeyed.

The leash tightened—not enough to choke, but enough to remind Elma she was owned. She hated how her body responded automatically, head bowing while her thoughts screamed rebellion.

"Good," Nitron murmured. "Now listen."

The serpent's jeweled eyes brightened. A low hiss filled the garden, coming from everywhere and nowhere. The air thickened, carrying a metallic scent like old blood.

Nitron circled them slowly, his voice calm. "Every bond is forged in fire… or broken in betrayal. Which will it be tonight?"

The hiss grew louder. The serpent's mouth opened, and mist poured out, curling along the platform like smoke.

Calista's hand twitched against her skirts, but she didn't speak.

"Stand," Nitron commanded.

They rose. The mist curled around their ankles, glowing faintly gold.

Nitron set his wine glass down on the throne's arm. "You will each answer a question," he said. "Truthfully."

Elma's stomach tightened. She didn't like where this was going.

Nitron's gaze landed on Calista first. "Do you love me?"

The question was soft, but it struck like a dagger.

Calista's mask didn't crack. "Yes," she said smoothly, her voice a perfect lie.

The serpent's eyes glowed brighter. Nitron studied her face for a long moment, then smiled faintly. "Good."

His gaze shifted to Elma.

"And you," he murmured. "Do you dream of killing me?"

The leash burned so sharply she nearly stumbled. The shard pulsed in her sleeve, heat flooding her arm like a warning.

Elma forced a smirk onto her face. "Every day, Master."

The mist swirled violently. The serpent's eyes flashed red, then dimmed to a steady glow.

Nitron chuckled. "Finally. Honesty."

He stepped closer, cupping her jaw with cold fingers. The leash pulsed under his touch, pain crawling up her spine. "That's why I keep you," he whispered. "Because you'd try. And you'd fail."

Elma's pulse hammered, but she forced herself to grin, blood tasting sharp on her tongue.

Nitron released her and turned away, picking up his wine again. "You may leave. Both of you."

They didn't move right away. The mist receded, curling back into the serpent's mouth. The lanterns dimmed.

"Go," Nitron repeated, his voice sharper now.

Calista bowed her head, pulling Elma with her. They walked out of the garden under the watchful gaze of statues that suddenly felt alive.

Only when they were back inside the manor's shadowed halls did Calista let out a shaky breath.

"He knows," she whispered.

"Yeah," Elma said, rubbing her throat. "He's just playing with us now."

Calista stopped in the hallway, her mask slipping for just a second. Fear flickered in her eyes, but beneath it was something sharper. Determination.

"He won't stop," she said softly. "Not until one of us is dead."

Elma leaned close, her voice a whisper meant only for her. "Then let's make sure it's him."

The shard in her sleeve pulsed like a heartbeat, its warmth spreading up her arm.

Somewhere behind them, deep in the garden, the serpent's eyes glowed faintly red again.

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