CHAPTER 154: CHAPTER 154: THE NOTE

Cassian sat in silence long after Dareth left, his thoughts churning like a storm that wouldn’t settle. The air in the room felt heavier now, pressing down on his chest, thick with humiliation and disbelief. His hands were clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms, and the corners of his vision burned with unshed rage.

He had never imagined being spoken to like that again.

Threatened. Dismissed. As if he were a dog being told to sit and roll over.

And worst of all—by him.

Cassian exhaled sharply and kicked the edge of the bed frame, sending a sharp jolt of pain up his foot. It didn’t help. The frustration still boiled under his skin, unrelenting. A heavy goblet from the table clattered to the floor with a metallic thud, rolling until it hit the leg of the chair and came to a stop. The silence that followed only made everything feel more suffocating.

This place was beautiful. Lavish and quiet.

But Cassian felt like he was trapped in a cage spun from silk.

He didn’t belong here.

He didn’t want to belong here.

And yet... he couldn’t deny that something about that man—about Prince Dorian—unsettled him deeply. Not just the way he looked at Cassian, not just the way he spoke... but the way the world itself seemed to warp around him. The way rules bent and fate twisted when he was near.

As if the universe itself dared not say no to him.

A soft knock interrupted the silence. Not loud, not impatient—just a quiet, composed tap.

Cassian didn’t respond. He didn’t need more instructions. He didn’t need another lecture.

The door opened anyway.

Dareth entered again, carrying something this time. A single parchment, folded neatly, sealed with a thick red wax imprint that gleamed faintly in the light.

Without a word, Dareth approached and offered it to him.

"What now?" Cassian asked, his voice tired and hollow.

"A message," Dareth replied calmly, "from the Supreme Lord. He requests that you read it."

Cassian’s eyes narrowed, but he took the letter anyway.

His fingers hesitated at the seal. He didn’t know what to expect. An order? A scolding? Another threat disguised in pretty words?

He broke the seal and unfolded the parchment slowly, eyes scanning the contents.

The moment he reached the last line, he froze.

"If you wish to see your sister again, go to the etiquette class and follow all the arrangements. She will be brought to the Demon realm... to you."

The air caught in his lungs.

His chest felt suddenly too tight.

His sister?

Cassian stared at the words, heart thudding so loudly he could hear it in his ears. The parchment trembled in his hand, and his breath came shallow and uneven.

He hadn’t seen her in years. Not since the day they were torn apart. Not since he was sold by his aunt and uncle.

She had always been the reason he survived. Every scar, every wound, every brutal training session—he had endured them all because he had to. For her.

Because he’d promised her.

He had promised to come back.

Cassian swallowed hard, blinking fast.

He never thought he’d hear anything about her again. He had scoured rumors, whispered to passing merchants, and even dared to ask guards in the Morthagar camps if they knew his village and where it was located.

Nothing. Always nothing. No one had ever heard of his village.

But somehow, the Supreme Lord had found her.

Cassian felt his knees weaken. He sat slowly on the edge of the bed, the letter still in his hand, eyes locked on the page as if he needed to memorize every word to believe it was real.

Of course the Supreme Lord could do this. Cheat fate, rewrite paths, reach across distances, and pluck the one thing Cassian had been desperate for. There was no limit to his power.

But to offer her like this—

As a reward. It felt like a leash to him; if he wanted his sister, he had to obey him unconditionally.

It made Cassian sick.

And yet... he couldn’t say no.

Not to this.

He looked up slowly, eyes meeting Dareth’s.

"I’ll go," he said quietly.

Dareth offered a shallow bow, as if he had expected this answer all along. "A servant will come shortly to escort you."

Cassian didn’t reply. The moment the door closed again, he rose to his feet.

His hands moved automatically—washing himself, combing his hair, and dressing in the silken robes left for him earlier. Blue and silver. Embroidered and elegant. He barely noticed what he wore.

All he could think about was her.

Was she safe? Was she alone? Did she remember him?

He would see her again. He had to believe that.

He forced himself to eat a few bites of the food from the table. His stomach wasn’t hungry, but he couldn’t risk weakness. Not now.

Not when he had something to fight for again.

A light knock came. The same young servant who brought him food came and stood holding a stack of etiquette books and a folded wooden fan.

"Your Grace," the boy said, a little breathless, "I’ve come to escort you to your class."

Cassian nodded wordlessly and followed him.

The hallways were quiet. He kept his gaze ahead, fists loose at his sides, forcing his breathing into an even rhythm. Every step was a reminder that this was for her. For his sister.

When they reached the doors of the etiquette hall, the servant gave a respectful bow and stepped aside to let him in. Cassian inhaled slowly and walked through.

The room was the same as yesterday—refined, rigid, and cold in its elegance. Cassian recognized familiar faces: the nonchalant fae was seated in his usual seat, the demon lady was busy looking at her nails, and his friend Veyce was playing with the tip of a quill, as if he were both sad and bored at the same time.

But the silence did not last before it was broken.

"You—YOU’RE STILL ALIVE?!"