The chamber was empty now.
But the rage remained.
Duke Thaddeus stood motionless, his back to the door through which Madeleina had disappeared. His chest rose and fell in uneven, measured breaths. His fingers trembled at his sides, his knuckles taut, white with pressure.
He had wanted to kill her.
In that moment, when his palm had stopped mere inches from her face, when his mana had cracked the very air around them—he had wanted to pulverize her, to reduce her to nothing, to crush her beneath the weight of his grief.
But he had not.
Because he knew Madeleina.
He knew her father—the man who had once served this household with unwavering loyalty, who had trained under his own father. The blood of that same man ran through her veins. She had been raised as a shadow of duty, forged in loyalty, tempered by responsibility.
She was no traitor.
She had failed, yes. She had lost Aeliana.
But she had not abandoned her.
So, he had held back.
His fingers clenched into fists. But the anger remained.
No.
Not just anger.
Pain.
A sharp, guttural breath left him as he slowly turned, his steps heavy, deliberate. His vision blurred at the edges, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer fury burning beneath his skin, coursing through his very being like an untamed fire.
He lost her.
Again.
Just like her.
Just like his wife.
“You promised me.”
A memory.
A whisper from a past that should have been buried, but never truly had been.
“Even if I am gone, you must protect her.”
Thaddeus’ breath stilled.
The rage twisted inside him like a wounded beast, coiling, writhing, unable to escape. It wasn’t just the Kraken, wasn’t just the sea—it was himself.
He had let Aeliana go.
He had allowed her to step onto that ship, even when his instincts had screamed at him to keep her locked away, to confine her within these walls where, at the very least, she would be safe.
He had told himself he was granting her a semblance of freedom.
But what was freedom, if it had only led her to this?
His fists slammed onto his desk, the impact sending a violent tremor through the wood. Papers scattered, an ink bottle toppled, spilling its dark contents across carefully written reports.
A sharp exhale, a growl of frustration escaped his lips.
His mana pulsed again, uncontrolled, wild.
The very foundation of the chamber quivered beneath it.
He turned sharply, pacing towards the window, his heavy boots striking the marble with force. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs, but it was nothing compared to the pressure building within his chest.
He stared at the sea.
That wretched, cursed sea.
The source of his daughter’s disappearance. The abyss that had swallowed her whole.
The Kraken.
That thing.
It was more than a mere beast. More than some mindless force of destruction.
It had chosen its moment.
It had let men escape.
It had retreated deliberately.
And then, at the very last second—when victory had already been stripped from them—it had taken Aeliana.
That was no accident.
His fingers gripped the windowsill, nails digging into the stone.
Was it mocking him?
Did it know?
Did the Kraken—did whatever force controlled those unnatural vortexes—understand what it had taken from him?
A deep, primal fury surged through his veins.
The sea had taken everything from him.
His wife.
His daughter.
And now, it expected him to stand here, powerless, as if he were nothing but a grieving father with no strength left to act?
No.
No.
NO.
A sharp crack split the air as the very frame of the window warped under the pressure of his mana.
He turned sharply, his presence overwhelming the room, pressing against the very walls, his breath ragged, shoulders heaving.
He should have never let her go.
He should have kept her here.
Even if she hated him for it.
Even if she despised him.
Even if it meant imprisoning her. Find your next adventure on My Virtual Library Empire
Because at least she would have been safe.
At least she wouldn’t have been lost to the same damned abyss that took his wife.
A violent surge of mana crackled around him, making the very air hum with unstable energy. The storm inside him—one that had been controlled, tempered, kept locked away for years—was breaking.
There was only one thought consuming his mind now.
He would not allow the sea to take her.
Not this time.
Not ever again.
His voice, low and laced with an unshakable resolve, echoed through the empty chamber.
“Summon every scholar. Every mage. Every researcher in this damned empire.”
“Find me the ones who survived the vortex. Find me the ones who know the ocean’s secrets.”
“And if the sea is keeping her—”
His eyes burned, his mana surging with something beyond mere fury.
“—then I will rip it apart to bring her back.”
The storm outside raged, but it was nothing compared to the storm inside him.
******
Elara sat by the window of her rented room in the inn, staring out at the sea. The waves rolled in with a steady rhythm, their ceaseless motion a stark contrast to the unease coiling in her chest. The faint scent of salt filled the air, mingling with the scent of wood and faint remnants of the bath she had taken earlier.
It had been nearly a week.
Seven days since the battle.
Seven days since the vortex swallowed him whole.
She clenched her fingers against the windowsill, her nails pressing into the wood. The feeling was strange, unsettling in a way she couldn’t quite put into words. She had seen death before, had lost people before. And yet, this was different. It wasn’t grief—not exactly. It wasn’t just sorrow either. It was something in between, something hollow and restless.
She could still see it so clearly in her mind.
That last moment.
The way his smirk had never faded, even as the vortex consumed him.
The way he had pushed her away, ensuring that she wouldn’t be dragged in with him.
His final words, teasing as always, but there had been something else beneath them. Something real.
“You’re not ready to play hero just yet.”
Elara exhaled sharply, running a hand through her damp hair. She had replayed that moment over and over again in her mind, trying to decipher what she had missed, what she could have done differently. But it always ended the same way.
With him disappearing.
And the worst part? There had been no sign of him since.
She had joined multiple search efforts, combing the battlefield, scouring reports from the knights and adventurers. The vortex had vanished without a trace, and with it, so had he. Just like that. Gone, as if he had never existed at all.
But that wasn’t the only thing.
She wasn’t the only one suffering from this uncertainty.
The Duke of Stormhaven had launched a relentless search operation—not just for Luca, but for his own daughter. The rumors were spreading quickly now. The Duke’s only daughter, swallowed by the same type of vortex that had taken Luca.
And just like Luca, there had been no trace of her.
Noble forces had been mobilized. Elite adventurers had been hired. Some whispered that the Duke himself had ventured out beyond the safety of Stormhaven, personally leading teams to scour the surrounding lands and seas for any sign of the missing.
And yet, despite all of this, there were no answers.
Elara bit her lip, her mind spiraling with questions.
What were those vortexes?
Where did they lead?
Why had they started appearing so suddenly?
And why—why did she feel like something was missing? Like she was standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable, reaching out for something just out of her grasp.
She closed her eyes, her fingers tightening on the fabric of her robe. The weight of the unknown pressed against her chest, heavy and suffocating. And beneath it all, beneath the logic and the doubt, a small whisper lingered in the back of her mind.
“It was your fault.”
A single thought that was not supposed to be there.
