Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 378 - 372: He’s leading it.

The air at the border was dry, clean, and sharp with altitude. The mountain wind slid over the stone ridges silent and cold despite the summer barely arriving. Damian Lyon stood at the edge of the outpost wall, one gloved hand braced against the ancient railing, the other resting on the hilt of a ceremonial blade he never used but wore when he was in military inspection. The troops behind him were in formation, distant enough to give him silence, close enough to move the moment he said the word.

Donin’s flags still flew in the distance with pride, for now.

"Majesty," Halbrecht approached with the quiet thud of armored boots softened by embedded silencing runes. "Surveillance confirms: No new convoys from the coast. No shipments from Pais. They’re burning their reserves."

Damian didn’t turn. "How long?"

Halbrecht paused, glancing once toward the horizon where the mountains dipped into Donin territory, still too calm and proud. "They’ll hold the capital for three months, maybe six at most. After that, it’s mercenary loyalty and desperation."

Damian hummed once, low in his throat. Not surprised. Not pleased, either. Just marking the time.

Three months. Enough for Gabriel to give birth in peace. Enough for Hadeon to hang himself with his own pride.

"They’re using ether reserves to keep the capital running," Halbrecht added, eyes narrowing. "Blackouts started in the outer districts. Rationed comms, water cuts, refinery shortages. The engineers we certified pulled out weeks ago."

"Good," Damian said at last. Calm, almost gentle. "Let them remember what it feels like to run without us."

Behind him, the Aragonian banners stirred, woven with power, edged in white flame where the Empire’s sigil met the wind. Damian’s hand remained on the rail, gloved fingers curling slightly as if gripping something not there.

"No border movements?" he asked, gaze still on the flags fluttering over Donin’s crest.

"None," Halbrecht said, his voice flat. "Their long-range tech is dead. No new funds in or out. The last diplomatic envoy was turned away at the checkpoint three days ago. If Hadeon is still trying to keep his allies, he’s failing."

"One thing he’s consistent at," Damian replied, turning back toward the fortress, cloak catching the wind like a drawn blade. "Aslan?"

"Still straddling the fence."

"Then we’ll remove the fence," Damian said coldly. "He chose a side the moment he stayed silent. That makes him a traitor like Hadeon. We’ll carve the line for him."

They reached the base of the rampart just as another figure peeled out of the corridor shadows, boots soft against the blackstone floor despite the weight of command strapped to his frame.

"For now let Donin’s army and Hadeon’s mercenaries starve, we can wait until they can’t fight anymore." Damian exhaled. "I’m not going to waste innocent lives and resources to rush their death. Take care of the refugees and screen them for spies."

A soft rustle, too deliberate to be wind, drew their attention. Alexander emerged from the archway like a shadow shaped into flesh, his long coat dusted with fine mountain grit, eyes alert, and mouth set in a line too tight to be casual.

"Majesty," he greeted, inclining his head.

Halbrecht stepped aside without being asked.

Damian’s gaze sharpened. "Report."

"The Shadows returned from the Vale two hours ago. They found some interesting information inside the mind of one of the spies we caught." Alexander paused, letting the silence carry weight. "Hadeon has a shard of Olivier’s soul suspended. The memories could be altered, but it seems like Hadeon wants to drag this war out another two months."

Damian chuckled, a cold, mirthless sound that cracked like frost beneath a boot. "So they believe the shard is still active. Not devoured by the Empire’s ward." fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

Alexander tilted his head. "He’s either desperate or delusional, or he found a way to keep it alive long enough to matter. The feedback signatures match Olivier’s ether is faint, but there."

"Hadeon’s always been good at pretending to control what he doesn’t understand," Damian said quietly, the humor fading. "He thinks the shard is still tethered to my child and Gabriel."

He tilted his head, gaze narrowing. "Coordinate our intelligence," he said. "Feed him news that Gabriel is struggling with the pregnancy. Subtle hints. Odd fluctuations in the child’s ether. Enough to seem concerning, not fatal."

Alexander’s brows lifted faintly. "You want him watching."

"I want him reacting," Damian replied. "If he believes the tether is fraying, he’ll either try to reinforce it or abandon it. Either way, he exposes the channel."

Halbrecht let out a slow breath. "You’re using your own unborn child as bait."

"No," Damian said, his voice turning cold enough to still the air. "I’m using Hadeon’s obsession."

He paused, then added, "Gabriel already suspects the shard wasn’t fully destroyed. He’s monitoring ether surges at the core wards. He’ll make it look real."

Alexander gave a slow nod, the faintest curve of admiration at the corner of his mouth. "You’ll make him believe he has an advantage with it."

Damian’s expression didn’t change, but something colder settled into his posture, an echo of war long learned and never forgotten.

"He needs hope," Damian murmured. "That’s the only way this works. If he thinks the shard still responds to the child, he’ll think time is on his side. That the tether can still be used, twisted, manipulated."

"Instead of realizing it’s already turned on him," Alexander finished.

"Exactly." Damian’s gaze flicked toward the horizon, where the mountains clawed at the sky. "Every whisper he gets from now on will feed his certainty. Until the moment it tightens around his neck."

Halbrecht folded his arms across his chest, jaw set. "And Gabriel? He’s ready for this?"

"He’s leading it," Damian said without hesitation. "He was the one who suggested using the shard to trace ether leaks beyond the imperial boundary. He won’t flinch."

Alexander gave a short, impressed breath. "We should all be more afraid of your mate."

"I am," Damian said simply. Then, softer, fondly, but with the weight of thunder behind it, "And so should Hadeon."

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