Even Death Grew Tired of Killing Me-Chapter 63 - 58

[Third POV – General]

Caedryn rarely lost composure.

That was one of the reasons people feared him more than they feared open tyrants. He did not shout. He did not pace. He did not throw objects across rooms when things failed.

He adjusted.

He calculated.

He corrected.

But when the report reached him that the Grave Choir Thrall had vanished, not destroyed in the usual sense but simply... gone, something inside him shifted.

He stood in his private chamber, one hand resting lightly on the edge of his desk. The report crystal hovered in the air before him, replaying the last recorded disturbance from the sealed wing.

Static.

A violent spike of energy.

Then nothing.

He replayed it again.

Nothing.

His jaw tightened.

"Explain it again," Caedryn uttered quietly, voice smooth but strained at the edges.

His assistant stood a few steps behind him, posture straight, hands clasped behind his back. He did not dare show fear, but his throat moved as he swallowed.

"The containment registered a surge, Prefect. The Thrall’s presence destabilized and then... ceased. There was no residual collapse signature. No divine flare. It simply disappeared."

Caedryn’s fingers tapped once against the desk. "And Archivist Finley?"

"Alive," the assistant replied carefully. "And his brother as well. Neither shows signs of critical injury."

Caedryn turned slowly.

"Not even injured?" he asked, tone mild, which made it worse.

"No, Prefect."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"And Astrae?" he pressed.

"She remains weakened. Our observation threads confirm her suppression has not fully lifted. It is highly unlikely she could have destroyed the Thrall in her current state."

Caedryn exhaled through his nose.

Unlikely.

He disliked that word.

"Did the lich sense anything?" he asked.

The assistant hesitated a fraction too long.

Caedryn noticed.

"Well?" He asked a little impatiently.

"The ancient one reported... minimal disturbance," the assistant answered. "It confirmed the Thrall’s destruction. It also noted that something entered and exited the chamber."

Caedryn’s gaze sharpened. "The ancient one huh.... Hmmm... And something."

"Yes, Prefect."

"And it could not identify this... this something?"

The assistant shook his head. "No, Prefect. It stated that the presence did not align with mortal mana, divine residue, or any known classification within its reach."

Caedryn’s hand stilled.

"Even using all its faculties?" he asked, voice colder now.

"Yes. Even the ancient one could not give form or name to what passed through."

Silence settled in the room.

Heavy and measured.

Caedryn’s mind moved quickly behind his calm exterior. The true ancient lich was old, older than most of the current pantheon’s recognized lineages. It had devoured fragments of forgotten entities and studied divine patterns for centuries.

For it to say it could not identify something was not ignorance.

It was absence.

Something had walked into his containment, destroyed a construct built from layered corpse and fear, and left without leaving a trace that even the lich could read.

He turned back to the crystal and dismissed it with a flick of his fingers.

"Archivist Finley," he murmured, almost to himself. "Of realm 000890."

His lips curved slightly.

"He was looking for her," Caedryn continued, tone regaining its smooth cadence. "That means he already suspected. Which means he knows more than he has shown."

The assistant remained silent.

Caedryn’s jaw flexed once more, then he straightened fully.

"Something bigger than Astrae is moving," he concluded quietly. "Her unsealing was too clean. Too deliberate. No panic, no ripple that reached beyond this kingdom. That alone should have warned me."

He began to walk slowly across the room, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

"First the relic. Then the sealed divine. Now an unidentified force that bypasses even the ancient one’s perception."

His eyes began to gleam, not with anger now, but with interest.

With hunger. Great hunger.

"This is not coincidence."

The assistant watched him carefully, recognizing the shift.

Caedryn stopped at the tall window overlooking the inner palace grounds. Morning light filtered through the high glass, soft and harmless.

"How," he murmured, almost amused now, "does something walk through my prison and not leave a footprint?"

He turned sharply.

"How does the ancient one fail to see?"

The assistant lowered his gaze. "We do not know, Prefect."

Caedryn’s expression slowly changed.

The irritation faded.

In its place, something sharper emerged.

Excitement.

"If the lich cannot identify it," he said thoughtfully, "then it does not operate within standard divine patterns. It does not resonate like a god. It does not burn like one."

He laughed softly, the sound low and controlled.

"Which makes it far more interesting."

The assistant’s brows drew together faintly. "Prefect?"

Caedryn’s eyes shone now with unmistakable greed.

"Let them move," he instructed calmly. "Do not interfere further. Observe. Record. Every fluctuation."

"But Prefect, if they escape..."

"They will not escape," Caedryn interrupted smoothly. "They will lead us."

He began to smile, slow and deliberate.

"Whatever aided them believes it can move unseen. That arrogance is useful."

He stepped closer to the assistant, lowering his voice.

"We will catch whatever is aiding them soon. And when we do, we will not merely suppress it."

His gaze darkened.

"We will study it."

The assistant nodded, though unease crept into his expression.

Caedryn turned away again, eyes distant now.

"It seems Archivist Finley of Realm 000890 carries secrets that need to be unlocked," he mused quietly.

He placed a hand over his chest as if claiming something already within reach.

"And I want that secret revealed only to me."

His smile widened.

"And then it will be mine. Mine to use. Mine to control. Mine to lord over."

The air in the chamber felt colder than before, not because of magic, but because of intention.

Above, the palace remained unaware.

Below, deeper than most would dare imagine, the game had shifted again.

And Caedryn had no intention of being a mere spectator.

~~~

Morning light spilled through the wide glass windows of Madison’s office, warm and steady, cutting clean lines across the polished wooden floor. The sun caught in her hair where it had been loosely braided to one side, revealing faint strands of dark blue hidden within the black. It softened her profile, gave her an almost ordinary air, as though she were nothing more than a young woman quietly reviewing documents at the start of a long day.

She sat at her desk, a thick record book open in front of her. One hand rested lightly along the spine while the other traced neat lines of script, her expression calm and unreadable. She wore a white Aetherian dress trimmed with pale pink lining, simple but elegant, sleeves flowing just enough to move when she turned a page.

The room felt still.

Then the shadow near the far wall deepened slightly.

Theron stepped out of it without a sound.

Madison did not look up. She did not greet him, nor acknowledge his presence. She simply turned another page, her attention still on the book.

Theron walked toward the tall window, arms folding loosely across his chest. The morning light caught his long black hair where half of it had been pulled back with a red tie. His ruby eyes were quiet, almost blank, reflecting the city beyond the glass.

For several seconds, there was only silence and the soft rustle of paper.

Then Madison made a small sound.

At first it was faint, barely more than a breath.

A whisper of laughter.

Theron glanced over his shoulder.

The sound grew.

A soft giggle escaped her lips, light and airy, like small bells chiming somewhere far off. She tried to swallow it down, pressing her fingers over her mouth, but it only made it worse. Her shoulders trembled slightly as another burst slipped free.

Theron turned fully now, brows drawing together in faint confusion. "What’s with you?"

Madison attempted to compose herself. She inhaled, straightened, and failed entirely as another giggle bubbled up. Her cheeks flushed a soft crimson, and for once her usually composed face looked younger, more unguarded. The smile transformed her, made her almost radiant.

She lowered her hand slowly, though her lips were still curved.

"A nullity," she managed between quiet fits of laughter. "Said he wanted to capture us and use us as a tool. That our arrogance would make us easy to lead."

She paused, breath catching again as another amused sound escaped her.

"Imagine that," she continued softly. "A speck of dust in this grand universe daring to say it. It’s so funny, I can’t stop myself."

Theron stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head faintly. "You don’t have to listen to those things, really."

Madison’s giggles gradually subsided, though the smile remained. She shrugged lightly, as if it were the most harmless thing in the world. "It’s not like I intended to."

She closed the record book gently.

As soon as the cover touched the table, a small tear in space opened just above the desk. It was no wider than a handspan, dark and silent. Madison slipped the book inside without hesitation. The tear folded in on itself and vanished as though it had never existed.

Theron’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Is that book...?"

Madison nodded once. "Yes. Until he awakens, it’s mine to keep safe."

Theron hummed softly in acknowledgment.

Madison rested her chin on her folded hands, elbows on the desk. A glint of mischief flickered in her eyes. For a brief second, her amethyst irises darkened, deep violet swallowing the lighter shade before returning to their usual calm hue.

"Would you like to visit Caedryn?" she asked casually.

Theron’s expression shifted, just slightly. "I don’t really like to be around those kinds of mortals."

Madison’s smile widened, though it was no longer playful in the same way. "Well, I want you to play. A very long, torturous play before ending his existence."

Theron tilted his head. "Would that get the attention of that semi mortal?"

She nodded. "That’s one of the reasons. But I really want to let Caedryn understand his own arrogance. Thinking he could capture even a low level god without consequence."

Her tone remained gentle, almost pleasant, which made the meaning far more unsettling.

Theron straightened slightly. "You can be vindictive over little things."

Madison offered him a sweet, almost innocent smile. "That’s why you like me so much, right?"

Theron gave her a long, dead stare.

Then a slow smirk tugged at his lips.

"Alright then," he replied evenly. "Just when they get to deal with Morveth Kael’Zhyr."

"Perfect," Madison answered, her voice returning to its usual calm. The earlier laughter was gone now, replaced by composed clarity. "Then how about joining me for tea?"

Theron’s smirk softened into something more genuine, subtle but real. He unfolded his arms and walked toward her desk.

"Fine," he murmured. "But you’re pouring."

Madison’s eyes sparkled faintly as she reached for the teapot.

Outside, the morning carried on as if nothing unusual had been decided inside that quiet office.