Even Death Grew Tired of Killing Me-Chapter 70 - 65 - Morveth Kael’Zhyr

[First POV-Theo]

The cave did not feel like a cave.

It felt carved, shaped with intention.

The passage widened gradually as we walked, the ceiling climbing higher and higher until the darkness above swallowed the light from Astrae’s faint glow. The walls were not rough in the way natural stone should be. They had been cut, then left to age. Tall ridges rose like frozen waves, and broken columns stood half-formed from the ground as if someone had tried to build something holy here and then abandoned it.

Water dripped somewhere far above us. The sound echoed longer than it should have.

Each step we took felt small.

The air was damp and heavy, thick with the smell of stone and old decay. It clung to the back of my throat.

"This doesn’t feel like we’re in the palace anymore," I muttered.

Kyrene glanced around, eyes sharp.

"We’re not within the palace grounds like I initially assumed. We might already be far from Solcarth, somewhere near mountains and rivers."

Astrae walked slightly behind me, her steps measured. She was still injured, but she carried herself straighter now. "This place was shaped," she murmured quietly. "Not by mortals."

That did not comfort me, not at all.

We moved forward slowly, boots splashing lightly through shallow water that pooled unevenly along the stone floor. The cavern opened wider ahead until the darkness broke apart into massive open space.

It looked like a cathedral.

Not in the sense of stained glass and carved saints, but in scale. The ceiling soared so high it disappeared. Enormous stone pillars stretched upward like ribs of something long dead. Broken arches framed empty air. The floor dipped toward a central depression, wide and circular, almost like a ritual stage.

And it was quiet.

Too quiet.

Kyrene’s voice cut through it softly. "He’s here."

I felt it too.

The pressure.

It was not like the Thrall and it was not like the Wardens. It was heavier and denser. It did not lash outward. It simply existed and pressed against everything around it.

At the center of the chamber, something moved.

Not walking but rather, descending.

The air above the circular depression seemed to warp slightly, and then Morveth Kael’Zhyr lowered into view.

It did not hurry.

Its layered bone plates reflected the faint blue light of distant runes. The tar-like substance between the plates pulsed slowly, veins of dull violet moving beneath the surface. Its elongated skull tilted just slightly as if studying us.

"You have done well," it rasped, voice layered and wrong, like multiple throats speaking through one mouth. "Most do not pass the outer chambers."

Kyrene’s posture shifted subtly. No grin. No playful ease.

Just stillness.

Astrae inhaled slowly beside me. I felt her tension, sharp and contained.

Morveth hovered just above the center of the chamber, robes absent, nothing ornamental about it. Just structure and presence.

"You have reached my abode," it continued, tone almost conversational. "For that, you deserve acknowledgment."

Its gaze lingered on Astrae.

"You are resilient," it murmured. "I had hoped you would speak sooner."

Astrae’s jaw tightened. "I would rather rot."

A low, grinding sound escaped the lich. It might have been amusement.

"Yes," it replied. "You said something similar before."

Its focus shifted to Kyrene next.

"And you," it continued slowly. "You are... unusual. I’m very intrigued."

Kyrene did not respond.

I could feel it now, the full weight of the lich’s aura pressing outward. It was not explosive. It was controlled, like standing too close to deep water where you knew something vast was moving beneath the surface.

My chest felt tight.

Not from fear exactly, but from scale.

This was different from everything else we had fought.

"You’ve interfered again and again," Morveth continued. "You broke containment, disrupted the process and destroyed tools that were carefully prepared."

Its voice did not rise.

It did not need to.

"You will speak," it stated simply. "All of you."

A thin ripple passed across the floor around it, as if the stone itself acknowledged the claim.

Kyrene shifted one foot forward.

This time, I saw it clearly.

He was serious, far more than his solo fight with the knight.

Not irritated, amused or calculating casually.

Serious.

Astrae stepped slightly closer to me, divine light flickering faintly around her hands, though I could tell it cost her more than she let on.

I swallowed once and steadied my breathing.

Morveth tilted its head again, tendrils within its split jaw twitching faintly.

"You have come very far," it murmured. "But you mistake survival for victory."

The pressure in the chamber increased.

Not violently.

Just enough that the water along the floor began to tremble.

"You will speak," the lich repeated calmly. "Soon."

Kyrene exhaled slowly.

"Yeah," he replied, voice low and flat. "We’ll see."

The cavern felt smaller now.

Not because it had changed.

But because whatever stood before us filled it completely.

And for the first time since we entered this place, I understood something clearly.

This was not a fight we could treat lightly.

Not even Kyrene.

~~~

[Third POV – General]

Night had settled fully over Solcarth.

The manor stood quiet beneath it, lanterns glowing warm along the corridors, shadows pooling softly beneath carved archways. Most of the household had retired, guards rotating silently at their posts, servants long dismissed for the evening.

Madison’s private quarters were lit only by a few soft lamps and the pale spill of moonlight through tall glass windows.

She had just stepped out from her bath.

Steam still lingered in the air, curling faintly against the ceiling. Water clung in droplets along her collarbone and slid down over smooth skin before disappearing beneath the thin white silk robe she loosely tied around herself. The fabric wrapped around her semi-wet body, clinging enough to outline every curve without apology. The robe fell open just slightly at the neckline, revealing the full swell of her chest, tapering down to a tiny waist and the gentle roundness of her hips.

She never adjusted it, never felt the need to.

For her, this human body was a vessel. A form. Something to contain her.

And yet, there were parts of being human she did not dislike.

Sweet food that melted on the tongue. Warm chocolate thick and comforting. The softness of cake. The comfort of a bath. The warmth of kisses and embraces. Those small physical comforts that humans chased without fully understanding why.

Those things were... pleasant.

She sat in front of her mirror, long damp hair falling down her back in dark waves with faint blue undertones that shimmered under the lamplight. She picked up a towel and casually began drying it, not because she needed to, but because she could.

The mirror reflected calm amethyst eyes and a face that rarely showed anything too openly.

The air behind her shifted.

Shadow stretched thin along the floor.

Theron stepped out from it as if he had always been there.

He wore black as usual, hands resting in his pockets, posture relaxed but presence sharp. His ruby eyes were blank at first, measuring the room without urgency.

Madison caught his reflection in the mirror.

"It’s time," she murmured evenly.

Theron inclined his head slightly. "Yeah," he replied, voice low. "I think so."

She continued drying her hair, movements unhurried. "What are you planning to do?"

Theron shrugged one shoulder, gaze drifting toward the window. "Maybe play."

Madison’s lips curved faintly. "Well, make sure you put him in his place."

A half-smile tugged at Theron’s mouth. "That would be easy."

Madison set the towel aside and slowly turned in her chair to face him fully.

"And don’t go where they are," she added, her tone even but firm.

Theron exhaled softly. "I know." He tilted his head slightly. "But maybe I’ll watch from somewhere."

She did not respond immediately.

She simply looked at him.

Not annoyed or amused.

Just watching.

Theron’s gaze drifted over her in return, deliberate and brief, from head to toe. He did not linger obscenely. He did not look embarrassed either.

Madison did not bother adjusting the robe. The neckline remained loose, silk resting carelessly against her skin.

Neither of them truly cared about modesty in the human sense.

Still, Theron lifted a brow faintly. "Sometimes you need to be decent," he remarked lightly. "Even though we are what we are, specially you."

Madison tilted her head slightly. "Why?" she replied calmly. "I’m in my private room. It’s not like I’m parading in the hallway." Her eyes flicked to his face. "And it’s strange to hear modesty from you, considering you look like a young boy... and yet..."

Theron’s lips twitched faintly. He stepped closer to the window instead of responding immediately.

After another quick glance at her reflection, he added casually, "No wonder mortals like to get into your pants even by force, even at the cost of their life. You do love this form. You barely change it."

Madison’s expression remained composed.

"I’m used to it," she answered simply. "It’s very close to my real self. And I’m comfortable."

Theron’s ruby eyes sharpened slightly.

"Yeah," he remarked, tone turning faintly teasing. "Theo likes it too."

Madison’s gaze snapped to him, unimpressed.

Theron let out a low chuckle, something he rarely did. It was brief, but genuine. "You’ll have to wait a long while though."

"That’s enough," Madison cut in, voice still controlled but edged just slightly. "Unless you want to continue discussing things that are entirely inappropriate coming from a face that looks thirteen."

Theron raised both hands slightly in surrender. "Okay. I’m sorry," he replied quickly, though amusement still lingered in his eyes.

He took a step backward toward the shadow pooling near the wall.

Madison watched him steadily.

For a brief moment, silence settled between them, not uncomfortable, but charged with awareness.

They both understood far more than they ever said aloud.

Theron paused just before disappearing.

"You really aren’t going to intervene?" he asked quietly, tone no longer teasing.

Madison’s expression softened by a fraction. "If I move every time things get difficult for him," she answered, "he will never learn."

Theron nodded slowly.

"And if Kyrene slips?" he pressed.

"He won’t," Madison replied with certainty. "He knows exactly where his limits are, you should be the one who trust him the most."

Theron studied her for another second, then gave a small nod.

A faint smile curved at the corner of his lips again, playful and sharp all at once.

"Try not to enjoy the chaos too much," he remarked lightly.

Madison leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. "It’s not chaos," she replied. "It’s progress."

Theron shook his head once, as if amused by her choice of words.

Then he stepped fully into the shadow.

He vanished without sound, leaving the room still once more.

Madison remained seated for a moment longer, gaze drifting back to her reflection.

Her fingers rose unconsciously to adjust the loose silk at her collar, though she did not close it fully.

She studied her own eyes in the mirror.

For a fleeting second, the purple deepened, darkening almost to black before returning to its usual shade.

"It’s too early," she murmured softly to herself.

Then she rose from the chair and moved toward the window, looking out toward the distant direction of the palace.

Far below the surface of Solcarth, something ancient waited.

And far above it, threads were tightening.

Madison closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again, calm restored.

"Don’t disappoint me," she whispered, though it was unclear to whom the words were meant.