The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 400: Corrupt

Ophelia stepped closer to the bed, her movements jerky and uncoordinated, as if she were a puppet with tangled strings. She didn’t look like a woman of the court anymore; she looked like a child lost in a blizzard. Her fingers twisted together, knuckles white, eyes wide and rimmed with a raw, stinging red.

"What’s going on?" she whispered, her voice tight with a fear that vibrated through the stagnant air of the room. "Can you help him? Please you have to tell me if you can."

Eris looked at her. For a moment, the old resentment, the memories of the garden, and the shadow of the first life flickered in the back of her mind, but they were drowned out by what she saw in Ophelia’s face. It was genuine. There was no artifice here, no political maneuvering. Ophelia loved Caelen, it was a complicated, desperate love built on the fragments he allowed her to have, but it was real.

"What have you tried to wake him?" Eris asked. Her voice was professional, clipped, and devoid of the warmth she had just shown Rael. She needed distance. If she allowed herself to feel the weight of Ophelia’s grief, she would lose the cold focus required to analyze the rot on Caelen’s finger.

Ophelia let out a ragged breath that caught in her throat. "Everything. We’ve tried everything, Empress. Cold water, smelling salts... we even had the guards try to shake him, to shout him awake. Nothing. Not even a flinch."

She gestured vaguely to the table littered with vials. "My own light magic, it usually heals, usually mends. But when I touch him, it feels like I’m hitting a wall of lead. The healers gave him every restorative potion in the stores. They tried remedies for poisons, for sleep-curses, for exhaustion. Nothing worked."

She looked at Caelen’s still form, her voice breaking. "He just... won’t wake. I don’t know what else to do. I’ve reached the end of my knowledge."

"Can you wake him?" Ophelia’s eyes searched Eris’s face, pleading for a miracle. "Do you know what’s wrong? Please, just tell me there’s a way."

Eris didn’t give her the comfort she wanted. She couldn’t. "I’ll try to find a way to wake him," she said carefully. It wasn’t a promise of success, nor was it a death sentence. It was a non-answer, a way to keep the hope from becoming a tether she couldn’t break.

Ophelia wanted more, she wanted a guarantee, a timeline, a certainty, but as she looked into Eris’s amber eyes, she saw the grim reality reflected there. She nodded reluctantly, her shoulders sagging. "Thank you," she whispered, though the words sounded hollow.

Eris stood up from the edge of the bed. The movement was slow, her body protesting the sudden shift in posture. The seal in her chest gave a sharp, warning throb, a reminder that she was operating on borrowed time.

"I need to prepare," Eris said, turning her gaze toward Soren. It was a silent communication, a look that conveyed the depth of the disaster they were standing in. They needed to talk, and they needed to do it away from the prying eyes of the staff and the fragile heart of the queen.

She looked back at Ophelia. "Stay with him. I’ll return soon."

It wasn’t unkind, but the distance was palpable. Eris was already moving into the headspace of a mage preparing for war.

Ophelia nodded, sinking back into the chair beside the bed. She took Caelen’s cold hand again, her eyes following Soren and Eris as they retreated. There was a flicker of gratitude in her expression, but it was buried under a layer of jealousy and confusion.

Eris was the one who knew what was wrong. Eris was the one who would take charge. Again.

Once they were in the corridor, the heavy doors thudded shut behind them, sealing the stagnant air inside. Soren and Eris walked in silence for several long moments, their boots echoing rhythmically against the stone.

They moved far enough away from the chambers to ensure their words wouldn’t carry, the guards instinctively peeling away to give the imperial couple the privacy the atmosphere demanded.

Finally, when they were alone in a side parlor, Soren turned to her. He didn’t wait for her to sit. "What did you sense?"

He already knew it was bad. He had seen the way her jaw locked and the way she had looked at the ring as if it were a poisonous viper.

"It’s dark magic. Definitely," Eris said, her voice finally losing its practiced calm. "And it’s from Vetra. It has to be."

Soren’s eyes narrowed, his hands resting on the hilt of his blade. "Are you certain? Dark magic is a wide field, Eris."

"Who else?" Eris countered, pacing a small line on the rug. "Who else in this palace has access to that kind of filth? And who else has a motive to use Caelen as a sacrificial lamb? This fits her pattern, Soren. She used dark magic with the demons in the outer district... and she has the grimoire. My grimoire. She has access to spells that haven’t been seen in centuries."

Soren went still, a dark realization settling over his features. "Perhaps this is it."

Eris stopped pacing and looked at him.

"This is how we bring her before the court," Soren said, his voice dropping into a lethal, calculated register. "Caelen wakes, he testifies about where he got that ring and what deal he made with Vetra. We have the ring as physical evidence, tangible proof of dark magic and treason. We can finally charge her. We can try her. We can get her out of this palace and into a cell where she belongs."

"First, I need to wake him," Eris reminded him, her voice grim. "Then we can worry about the court. But you’re right, we have to make sure she doesn’t disappear when we need her to face justice."

"I’ll make sure of that," Soren promised, his sapphire eyes glowing with a cold light. "The gates are already watched, but I’ll put my personal guard on her quarters. She won’t take a breath without me knowing."

"I need to break the spell," Eris said, turning back to the problem at hand. "Or at least weaken it enough to wake him. But I don’t know exactly what spell it is, Soren. It’s dark, it’s binding, it’s corrupting... but it’s not one I practiced. Vetra’s been digging into the deeper, viler parts of that book."

"What’s the plan, then?"

"I’ll have to create a counter-measure," she explained, her hands trembling slightly as she gestured. "Adapt what I know. I’ll have to use my fire magic to burn away the dark magic at the source, the ring and the veins."

"No." Soren’s response was immediate and firm. He stepped into her space, his presence a physical barrier. "Your seal just cracked, Eris. You’re physically depleted from the hunt and the fight with the Drogar. You cannot handle an extraction of this magnitude."

"I know the risks!" she snapped, her frustration boiling over. "But there’s no other way. The healers can’t touch this. Ophelia’s light magic is useless against it."

"Then I’ll do it," Soren said, his voice cracking with protective fury. "You just have to teach me the flow. I have the mana, I have the strength, "

"It doesn’t work that way!" Eris shouted back. "Your magic is too pure for that kind of filth, Soren. You’re an ice mage of the blessed bloodline. If you try to channel or even touch that kind of corruption directly, it’ll seep into you before you can even blink. It’ll corrupt you faster than it’s killing Caelen."