The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 406: Over

The extraction was done, but the air in the chamber remained thick with a vibrating, jagged malevolence. In the center of the room, held aloft by the sheer force of Soren’s will, was the ice sphere.

Inside, the dark magic writhed like a knot of black vipers, pulsing against its frozen cage. It was liquid shadow, a concentrated essence of Vetra’s spite, and even contained, it felt like a bruise on the world.

Eris gasped, her head falling back as she returned to her body. She was trembling so violently that the sound of her teeth chattering was audible in the sudden silence of the room.

"I need to finish this," she whispered. Her voice was thin, a ghost of its former power.

Soren’s arms tightened around her. "You’ve done enough, Eris. Let me handle the sphere."

"No," she said, her eyes snapping open, the gold of the Pyronox clouded with exhaustion but still burning. "It’s my responsibility. It has to be me. Not yet."

She pushed herself out of his arms. It was a slow, agonizing process. Her legs were like water, shaking under the weight of her own body, but she forced herself to stand. She took three stumbling steps toward the ice sphere, her hands rising.

The seal in her chest was screaming now, a high-pitched mental ringing that signaled she was reaching the absolute limit of her mana. She ignored it. She ignored the way the room tilted and the way the silver runes on the floor seemed to bleed into the stone.

She gathered her fire. It didn’t roar; it hissed. White-hot flames, hotter than any she had summoned in the hunt, erupted from her palms. They didn’t spread; they pierced. She drove the fire directly into the heart of Soren’s ice sphere.

Steam exploded outward in a blinding white cloud as fire met frost. Within the mist, a sound erupted—not a physical shriek, but a psychic wail of agony. The dark magic fought back, trying to latch onto the very flames that were consuming it, reaching for Eris’s core like a drowning man grasping at a blade.

Eris gritted her teeth, her knuckles white. "Burn," she hissed.

She gave one final, desperate push, pouring every remaining drop of her life-force into the heat. The white fire flared, blindingly bright, until it consumed every scrap of the writhing shadow. When the light finally faded and the steam cleared, there was nothing left but a fine, grey ash settling onto the cold stone.

The dark magic was gone.

Eris swayed. The world turned into a kaleidoscope of grey and gold. Her knees buckled, but Soren was there instantly, catching her before she hit the floor.

"Not yet," she murmured, her eyes half-closed. "Need to check... Caelen..."

"He’s here, Eris. Look."

The healers were already swarming the bed. The head healer reached out and slid the ring off Caelen’s finger. It was no longer an obsidian parasite; it was just a band of tarnished silver, harmless and hollow. She held her hand over his chest, her light magic pulsing a soft, steady rhythm.

"The dark magic is gone," the healer announced, her voice filled with relief. "His core is damaged... scarred by the corruption but it is already beginning to knit itself back together. He will recover."

Supported by Soren’s arm, Eris forced herself to the bedside. Caelen’s eyes were open, though they were glassy and unfocused. He couldn’t speak; the ritual had left his throat dry and his body shattered. But he was aware.

Their eyes met.

In that silence, the dream they had just shared hung between them like a ghost. There were no words for it, no way to explain the years of heartbreak that had been condensed into a single vision under an oak tree.

Caelen’s expression was a raw tapestry of gratitude, pain, and a new, quiet acceptance. The obsession that had driven him to the garden, to the ring, to the brink of death, had been burned away by the truth.

"You’ll be alright," Eris said quietly. She kept her voice flat, maintaining the professional distance she had worked so hard to build.

She raised her hand, her fingers trembling as she hovered them over his forehead. A tiny spark of fire not the killing heat, but a warm, soothing glow spread from her touch. "Rest now. Properly this time."

Caelen didn’t fight it. He leaned into the warmth, his eyes growing heavy with the weight of a natural, healing sleep. The tension left his jaw. The shallow gasping was replaced by the deep, steady rhythm of a man finally at peace with his own survival.

"This is good sleep," the head healer whispered. "He’ll wake in a few hours, stronger."

The news traveled through the palace like a spark through dry grass. In the guest chambers, Ophelia was startled by the sound of her door slamming open.

"My lady! He’s awake!" a maid cried out, her face flushed with excitement. "The Empress saved him! He’s going to be alright!"

Ophelia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. The tears she had been holding back for three days finally spilled over, hot and fast. "Thank the gods," she choked out. "Thank the gods."

She didn’t wait. She practically ran through the corridors, her hands supporting her pregnant belly as she rushed toward her husband’s chambers. When she burst through the doors, the scene was quiet. The ritual circle had been swept away, the braziers extinguished.

She saw Caelen lying in the center of the bed, his face pale but the black veins gone. He was sleeping, not the deathly unconsciousness of a curse, but the deep, rising and falling breath of a living man.

"I’m staying," Ophelia told the healers, her voice firm and brook no argument. She pulled the chair flush against the bed. "I won’t leave his side again."

Eris was at the door, leaning heavily against Soren as they prepared to leave. She paused, looking back at the woman sitting by Caelen’s side.

"Make sure you rest too, Ophelia," Eris said, her voice raspy. "The baby needs you healthy."

Ophelia looked up, startled. For a moment, she saw not the terrifying Empress or the rival for her husband’s heart, but a woman who looked as broken as the man on the bed. "I will," Ophelia whispered. "Thank you. Thank you for saving him."

Eris didn’t respond. She simply nodded once and let Soren lead her out into the cold corridor.