Kael held the Queen in his arms for a few more seconds after confirming aloud that she was still alive, allowing the information to settle in the air before adding anything else. His gaze remained steady, without apparent urgency, but also without any unnecessary softening of what was before them. He didn’t move to hand her over immediately, nor did he try to interfere with Elizabeth’s natural impulse to approach. He simply observed, like someone who had already made all the necessary decisions and was now merely executing the remaining steps without deviation.

"I didn’t give her blood," he said finally, in a direct, straightforward tone, as if anticipating a question before it was even asked. His eyes briefly shifted to Elizabeth, assessing her reaction, but not expecting any objection. "I don’t trust that level. Not after what I saw down there." He paused briefly, not to dramatize, but because the logical sequence demanded this division. "She was in a place where everything was compromised. Control, manipulation, interference... there was no guarantee that feeding that wouldn’t activate something I hadn’t yet identified."

He slightly adjusted the position of her body in his arms, ensuring her head remained stable, properly supported. "When I was sure she wasn’t simply going to die on the way," he continued, with the same neutrality, "I brought her straight to you." There was no implied merit in the sentence, no attempt to appear cautious beyond what was necessary. It was simply the explanation of a practical decision.

Elizabeth listened silently, her eyes still fixed on her mother’s face, as if any deviation were unacceptable at that moment. When Kael finished, she nodded slowly, not as someone completely calm, but as someone who recognized the logic behind what had been done, even if emotionally she was still far from balanced. "It’s... understandable," she said, her voice lower, still heavy, but now more stable than before.

Without waiting any longer, she moved closer. There was no hesitation in the next gesture. With a swift and decisive movement, Elizabeth brought her own hand to her forearm and tore the skin with her nails, opening a cut deep enough for the blood to begin flowing immediately. There was no significant expression of pain; that was secondary to what mattered.

She carefully tilted her mother’s body, supporting her head with one hand as she brought the injured arm to her mouth. The blood began to trickle slowly, first touching her parched lips, then seeping in more consistently as she adjusted her position to facilitate the flow. For a moment, there was no visible reaction, the Queen’s body remaining inert, without any immediate response.

Then there was a small movement.

Almost imperceptible.

But real.

The throat contracted slightly, a weak, minimal reflex, but enough to indicate that the organism still recognized what was being offered. The blood began to be swallowed, not forcefully, nor with evident need, but as an automatic, basic process, sustained by something that still existed there, even after everything. Elizabeth maintained her position, her arm steady, without averting her gaze for a single second. Her breathing was irregular, but controlled enough not to interfere with the gesture. Every small reaction was immediately registered by her, as if any variation could indicate improvement or worsening.

Kael observed in silence.

Without interfering.

Without correcting.

He simply followed the process, assessing the rhythm, the body’s response, the way the energy slowly began to reorganize itself. There was no haste in his gaze, but there was also no carelessness. He knew exactly what to expect.

"She probably won’t regenerate completely now," he said after a few seconds, breaking the silence with the same objectivity as before. "The damage is too extensive for immediate recovery, even with enough blood." He crossed his arms slightly, without losing focus on the scene. "But this is already enough to get her out of that critical state."

Elizabeth didn’t answer, but slightly adjusted the position of her arm, allowing more blood to flow more easily. The Queen’s reaction became somewhat more consistent, still weak, but less erratic. Small signs began to emerge—not dramatically visible externally, but noticeable to those paying attention.

"She’ll be much better soon," Kael added, without changing his tone. "Not fully functional, but... out of immediate danger."

The tension in Elizabeth’s shoulders lessened slightly upon hearing this, not disappearing, but easing enough to allow her to breathe with less difficulty. After a few seconds of maintaining the flow, she finally pulled her arm away, allowing the small amount of blood she had ingested to begin to take effect without excess.

She looked again at her mother’s face, as if searching for some more evident change. There was nothing dramatic, no visible transformation. But the difference was there, even if subtle.

"And... how are things?" she finally asked, turning her gaze back to Kael. The question came out hesitantly, not out of lack of interest, but because she clearly wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

Kael didn’t answer immediately. He uncrossed his arms and let out a small sigh, short but perceptible, like someone organizing their answer before delivering it.

"I sealed the king of vampires," he said, directly, without any unnecessary construction around the sentence. His eyes remained neutral, as if he were reporting something technical. "And also who was controlling him."

Elizabeth frowned slightly, absorbing the information but without interrupting.

"We’re going to the Witch Kingdom," he continued, maintaining the same steady tone. "My grandmother can fully access their memories. I still can’t do that without losing important parts of the process."

There was a short pause, not long enough to break the rhythm, but enough to mark the implicit change of subject.

Elizabeth nodded slowly, accepting the direction he indicated without questioning at that moment. It was a decision that made sense within what she had already seen.

"And... the kingdom?" she asked then, this time more carefully, as if she knew that this answer would be more weighty.

Kael looked away for a moment, not out of discomfort, but because there was no need to maintain eye contact while answering something that was already decided.

He let out another sigh, a little more evident this time.

"I killed a lot of people," he said, without softening, without justifying, without altering his tone. It was a direct, dry statement that neither sought approval nor avoided judgment.

The silence in the room deepened for a moment after the sentence.

"But, apparently, everything is fine," he continued immediately afterward, as if merely completing the analysis. "The structure is still standing. There hasn’t been a total collapse."

Elizabeth kept her gaze on him, processing it not as shock, but as something that needed to be understood within the context she was still assimilating.

Kael looked back at the Queen, now with a more focused gaze.

"But it would be good if she woke up soon," he added, with the same objectivity. "That place can’t be without a symbol of royalty now."

The word "symbol" wasn’t said with contempt, nor with idealization. It was functional. Structural. Something necessary to keep what still remained stable.

Elizabeth looked at her mother again, her gaze now carrying not only worry but also responsibility. She was no longer just a daughter waiting for her mother to wake up. There was something more there now, something she was beginning to understand even unwillingly.

She nodded again, this time more firmly.

"She will wake up," she said, not as a wish, but as a decision.

...

The environment lacked a defined form in the traditional sense. It wasn’t exactly a room, nor a hall, nor an open space. The walls, if they could be called that, seemed to exist only when observed directly, composed of a dark, irregular matter that absorbed light instead of reflecting it. There was no clear source of illumination, yet everything was visible, as if the space itself imposed a functional visibility, not allowing complete shadows or blind spots.

The floor was stable, but not solid in the common sense. With each step, there was a slight sensation of displacement, as if the surface adjusted under the weight, constantly recalibrating itself. There was no echo, no wind, no ambient noise whatsoever. The silence wasn’t an absence of sound, it was an active presence, as if the space rejected any unnecessary interference.

And then—

The voice broke through.

"IT WENT WRONG!"

The scream didn’t echo. It simply existed in all places at once, traversing the space without propagation, as if it had been placed there directly. There was no clear direction of origin, but there was intensity. It wasn’t empty loss of control, it was accumulated frustration, repeated, reinforced.

"IT WENT WRONG AGAIN!"

Now there was movement.

A figure emerged from nowhere, not entering the space, but being revealed within it. Tall, enveloped in a cloak that didn’t completely follow the shape of the body, as if slightly misaligned with the surrounding reality. The face wasn’t fully visible, not because of darkness, but because it didn’t remain fixed enough to be precisely identified.

He began to walk.

Quick steps.

Irregular.

There was no clear destination, only movement, like someone trapped in a thought cycle that can’t find a way out.

"Everything was calculated!" he continued, now in a lower voice, but still laden with tension. "Every variable, every possible response, every predicted reaction..."

He stopped abruptly. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

He turned his body to an empty point ahead.

"And yet—"

His hand clenched tightly, the air around him distorting slightly for a brief instant.

"He breaks everything!"

The name came soon after.

With weight.

With hatred.

"Damn Kael Scarlet."

Silence returned for a second.

But it didn’t last.

The figure began to move again, now slower, as if forcibly reorganizing its reasoning.

"He wasn’t supposed to reach her in time." The voice lost some of its volume, but gained precision. "He wasn’t supposed to identify the method. He wasn’t supposed to understand the draining so quickly."

A pause.

A longer one.

"And yet, he not only didn’t understand..."

He turned his head slightly.

"...he ignored the entire process."

There was something different now.

It wasn’t just frustration.

It was... forced analysis.

Like someone trying to fit an impossible result into a system that doesn’t allow for failure.

"He didn’t follow the progression." The hand rose slightly, as if drawing something in the air, although nothing was visible. "He didn’t respond as he should have. He didn’t respect the limits of the structure itself."

The figure stood motionless.

Completely.

And then—

Another name.

With even more irritation.

"And that woman..."

The voice carried a more direct contempt now.

"Damn Witch Queen."