CHAPTER 47: MEETING THE QUEEN

"Another demon?" she said casually, as though the sight of Caelen’s form was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

Her delicate hand rose, and in the air before her, a shimmer rippled. It spread across her body like water over glass, forming a thin, mirror-like barrier that glowed faintly.

Her eyes sharpened. "You really are an incubus. I hate your type. But don’t think your tricks will work on me."

He didn’t waste time with words. His body surged, arcs of lightning crackling across his arms and shoulders, the familiar chant already burning in his throat.

[Lightning Aegis]—

He never finished.

A hand gripped his wrist. Emma’s.

Her voice cut through the storm, trembling yet firm.

"[Soothing Bloom]."

A rush of soft, radiant light bloomed around him, enveloping his body. The harsh crackle of lightning faltered, collapsing against the warmth that poured from her spell.

The rage in his chest, the need to strike, to kill, sputtered and vanished like smoke.

Caelen blinked, confusion flickering in his demon red eyes. The outburst, his sudden thirst for violence dissolved into emptiness, leaving only silence and the echo of Emma’s voice.

Aeloria’s lips parted slightly, her composure slipping for only a moment as she stared. "...Light affinity and with them?" She studied Emma with narrowed eyes, clearly unsettled.

Emma’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her hand still clinging to Caelen’s wrist as though he might break free again. Her gaze burned into the elf, furious and demanding.

"What did you do to him?" Emma’s voice was low but sharp, carrying the weight of genuine anger. She knew Caelen, knew him better than most, and that outburst wasn’t his nature.

The young elf man at Aeloria’s side was angry. His posture stiffened with pride, his handsome features twisting into hate.

"How dare you speak so disrespectfully—"

"Enough." Aeloria raised a hand, silencing him with a look. Her eyes slid back to Caelen, who stood silent, staring at her with that heavy, unflinching gaze of his.

She sighed softly, a rare crack in her mask of elegance, before turning on her heel.

"Come."

Her tone left no room for protest. She began walking, her veil swaying lightly behind her.

Silver, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. Her voice was calm but filled with worry. "Where is Evelyn?"

Aeloria didn’t pause, didn’t even turn her head. "She is in another cell."

That made Caelen’s blood stir again. His voice was steady. "What did you do to me?"

"Nothing." The word was shortened, sharp, dismissive.

They followed regardless, winding through the dim stone halls.

The cells they passed were empty, iron bars glinting in the faint torchlight. Each one was vacant, silent, almost too clean as though they hadn’t been used for years.

Caelen leaned toward Emma, his expression serious. "Do you know what she did to me?"

Emma’s brows knitted. She glanced at him, then back at Aeloria’s back. "I think... it was some kind of spell. Something to push your emotions, maybe.

To make you act without thinking. I don’t know what kind, but it felt like—"

"Manipulation," Lucy interrupted, her voice low and bitter. She had been trailing beside them, eyes locked on the elf’s every move. "My father... he used tricks like that. On workers he wanted gone. He’d force them to act against the rules, then cut them down under the guise of punishment."

Her jaw tightened, her words dripping with loathing. "She was planning to make you attack her. That way, she could kill you without consequence."

The truth hit him like ice. Caelen slowed, glancing at Emma again. Her hand tightened slightly around his arm, as if to say I wasn’t going to let it happen.

He let out a quiet breath, dread lingering at the edges of his thoughts. That was how close it had been.

"Open this one as well," Aeloria commanded suddenly. The young elf obeyed, pulling the key from his belt and sliding it into the lock.

The door swung wide, and Silver immediately rushed inside. "Evelyn!"

Her voice cracked with relief. Evelyn stirred, stepping out into the light. Silver wrapped her arms around her tightly, burying her face in her shoulder.

Evelyn smiled softly, her expression warm as she hugged back.

"Don’t worry so much," she said gently. "I’m fine. No harm, no pain, see?" She pulled away slightly, showing her unmarred skin and gown.

Caelen exhaled, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "That’s good."

Evelyn’s crimson eyes found his, and she noticed immediately. The faint glow of his demon form, the lingering tension in his posture. Her smile shifted into something softer. She stepped closer, her hand brushing his shoulder.

"What’s wrong?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing important," Caelen replied, though the weight in his tone betrayed him.

Aeloria cut in, her voice smooth but firm. "Enough. The queen awaits. She has questions for you all."

The words dropped like stones into the silence. Both Evelyn and Caelen exchanged glances, the realization dawning. They were to stand before someone higher. Someone with true power.

"The queen?" Evelyn murmured, half to herself.

Caelen’s jaw tightened. "And when she’s done with us?" His tone was casual, but the thought lingered darkly in his mind. If they’re planning to kill us... I’ll find a way out even if this whole island falls cause of it. There’s always a way.

Aeloria didn’t even look back. "I don’t know. But don’t speak to me again. Follow."

They did as told.

The stone corridor ended in a narrow stairwell, its steps spiraling upward. They climbed, step after step, the silence thick around them. After two minutes that stretched like hours, light greeted them at the top.

The world outside was bright, open, and strange. The air was fresher here, clearer yet something in it felt heavy. Like they were still inside something vast.

Caelen tilted his head up and realized: they were beneath a dome. A great, shimmering veil that curved across the sky, a barrier that sealed this place away from the world.

Before them stretched a wide field, alive with motion. Elves, both men and women, trained with blades and bows.

Their movements were fluid, disciplined, each strike and release precise. The clang of steel and the twang of bowstrings filled the air, punctuated by sharp commands.

Lucy slowed, her eyes wide. Memories flooded her. Demon hunters are training in the courtyards of her home. The weight of her father’s gaze, the smell of sweat and steel.

Emma, too, remembered—the drills of the paladins, the shouts of commanders as she watched them. Even Caelen’s mind flickered to his own past, the endless cycles of combat that were never given to him.

They reached the castle. Its back entrance loomed tall, guarded by women clad in light armor. Their presence radiated strength.

Lucy felt it immediately, a heaviness that sank into her chest. These women were stronger than most she had ever faced. Perhaps even stronger than her father.

Her hands clenched at her sides. This... won’t be easy.

The guards parted, allowing them through. The group stepped inside, passing more soldiers. Stronger still. Their gazes were sharp, piercing, as though measuring every flaw, every weakness.

Finally, they arrived at the last door. It was unlike the others adorned, elegant, almost reverent in its design. This was no ordinary chamber. This was the heart.

Aeloria turned to them, her face serious.

"The queen is behind this door. You will listen. You will answer her with the utmost truth. And if you’re lucky..." Her gaze swept across them coldly. "You may yet leave this place alive."

With that, she pushed the door open.

And inside, they beheld her.

A throne stood tall, carved with delicate precision, its curves and edges laced with golden filigree. Draped in velvet, it gleamed like something divine. Upon it sat the queen herself, her presence radiating authority.

Her hair spilled like molten gold, her veil lined with stars of gold thread. Blue jewels shimmered at her throat and ears, catching the light with an otherworldly glow. Her eyes, piercing, sky-blue, and sharp as a blade, watched them enter.

Beautiful.

Untouchable.

Dangerous.

The Elf Queen.

_

[WARNING WARNING]

[DO NOT PROCEED ANY FURTHER]

[LEAVE IMMEDIATELY]

The system windows flickered before Caelen’s eyes, warnings in bright crimson letters. His steps faltered for a moment, heart hammering in his chest.

The system had done this once before and suggested him to run, it had only given him skills, small choices. Yet here it was, flashing danger at him in the very hall of this queen.

Lucy caught the hesitation in his stride. "Caelen?" she whispered, confused at his sudden stop.

He forced the tension down and walked forward, ignoring the warnings as if daring the system itself to resist him. Whatever this was, there would be no running.

Ahead, Aeloria had already dropped to one knee, her expression reverent. "Your Highness," she said, voice formal, precise.

But Caelen and the others remained standing. Only Emma fell into a respectful bow. Aeloria glanced back at them, outrage twitching at the corners of her lips. She opened her mouth—

"Leave them be."

The Queen’s voice cut across the hall, calm yet absolute. Aeloria froze. Then she pressed her lips tight, stood, and said instead, "I brought the trespassers, Your Highness."

The queen’s gaze lingered not on Caelen first, nor on the others, but on Evelyn. At that look, Evelyn stiffened.

A sudden chill raced down her body, almost making her stumble, and a dizzy wave struck her senses. She shook her head quickly, forcing it off, but she could not shake the strange pull the queen’s eyes carried.

"Thank you, Aeloria. You may leave."

"Yes, Your Highness." The elf bowed deeply, shot one final glance toward Caelen, curious, cautious, and left, closing the doors behind her. Silence fell instantly, the kind that felt too heavy to disturb.

Then, for the first time, the queen smiled. It was slight, graceful, and yet carried something disarming.

Caelen found himself dazed for a moment, even Evelyn faltered at the strange warmth that seemed to hide beneath authority.

"So," the queen finally spoke, her voice shifting to something less formal, more casual, "what is it you are all doing here?"

Caelen stepped forward, shoulders squared. His voice was even. "We came here not to cause trouble. We don’t represent anyone, not Earth, not some army. We came seeking answers."

The queen’s gaze flickered over him, settling on his form. His horns, his aura, the transformation he could not hide.

Her brows raised slightly. "An Incubus...? Interesting. You do not look fully demonic, yet you carry their charm."

He hesitated. "Yeah... I guess you could say that. This is more of a... transformation for me."

The queen leaned forward ever so slightly, curiosity in her expression. "A transformation... hmm. My mother spoke often of demons, warned of their return. Yet what I see here doesn’t fit her predictions. Tell me, did you turn these women into demons as well?"

Caelen exhaled. "Yes. I did. But before I ask more, I wanna know something."

Evelyn stepped closer, her face calm, though tension burned beneath her skin. She placed a hand gently on Caelen’s arm, steadying herself. "I want to know something too, and about someone. A human. He came here years ago."

The queen tilted her head. "A human?"

"Yes," Evelyn pressed, voice sharper now. "A man who learned here, spent time among elves, then left. Don’t act like you don’t know. Who was he with? Did he offend anyone? Was he cursed?"

The queen’s expression did not change, but her silence lingered. Finally, she spoke, tone deceptively casual. "He came. Spend time with himself. He learned. And left. That is all."

"That’s a lie," Evelyn snapped. Her anger cracked through, surprising even Caelen. "You—queen of this place—there is no way you wouldn’t know if he was cursed."

The queen’s gaze sharpened, cool and calculating. "Cursed? A human cursed in my realm? Who are you to demand such accusations?"

Evelyn’s lips trembled as she forced the words out, voice breaking into fury. "He was my grandfather. He was killed by your people."

Caelen’s breath caught. The room itself seemed to constrict. He hadn’t expected her to reveal anything, especially that which makes their plans and everything else harder.

The queen blinked once. Then again. She stood slightly from her throne, the shift in her aura impossible to ignore. "Grandfather? That man... had children? You are claiming blood?"

"Yes!" Evelyn’s voice cracked louder now. Her chest heaved, but she pressed on, never breaking her stare from the queen. "I am his granddaughter. If you tell me who betrayed him, who cursed him, I will give you anything. Any information you want that is very important, even on Earth. Just give me the name."

The chamber was still, every word bouncing through the gilded walls. Even Lucy, Silver, and Emma stared in silence, the reveal heavier than anything they had prepared for.

The queen’s lips curled—not into cruelty, but into something sad. A sigh slipped free. "So reckless. So foolish. Your grandfather was always like that."

Evelyn shook her head violently. "He wasn’t foolish. He was my hero!"

The queen’s eyes softened. For the first time, her composure cracked. "Your name."

Evelyn’s fists clenched at her sides. "...Evelyn."

"And your family name?"

Evelyn hesitated. "That’s not needed—"

"Your name." The queen said in a colder voice for the first time.

"...Evelyn Sylraen," Evelyn said subconsciously.

The queen stilled. Her eyes widened, then softened again, trembling faintly as though she were staring into a memory long forgotten.

"...Sylraen," she repeated under her breath. Slowly, she leaned back into her throne, pressing a hand lightly against her lips.

Then, with the faintest of smiles, gentle, nostalgic, she whispered, "This is the first time I’ve spoken so openly... since your grandfather."

Evelyn’s heart stopped. The queen looked at her fully, as if stripping away every defense.

"My name," the queen said, her voice quiet yet echoing like a bell across the hall, "is Elunara Sylraen. Your grandfather... was my son."

-

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