Chapter 13:
Betrayal from the one you love is the hardest thing to swallow… it digs into your chest, twists your stomach, and no matter how much you try to choke it down, it will rise up and make you heave, make you cry, make you feel every ounce of yourself unravel.
Xuānluò staggered through his private chambers, thoughts spinning like a whirlwind. He couldn't tell if he should act—or if he even could forgive her. Forgive her? No… how could he? If this betrayal were five years old, he might have found a way. Fifty years old… perhaps even then. But… 290? 290 years of secrets, lies, manipulation? It was inconceivable. His mind recoiled from the scale of it, while his heart screamed with disbelief, fury, and anguish.
His hands gripped his hair, tangling fingers in half-white, half-brownish-red strands. He rocked back and forth, pacing, each step a slap against the polished floor. Half of his eyes had returned to normal, but the other half… the red eye wept black blood, streaking his cheeks in dark rivulets. His sobs were silent yet racked his chest, hiccups punctuating desperate gasps. The weight of his sons' safety, of the kingdom, of a life he no longer recognized, pressed on him, and yet his mind felt paralyzed.
"Why… Shěnhuī?" he whispered, voice cracking. "Why? You… you've driven me so mad… I can't even control my body… my mind… my power… everything is slipping… slipping away…"
Every word was jagged, a shard of glass against the hollow emptiness that had become his chest. He slammed a hand against the wall, sending a shower of blood droplets scattering across the floor. His other hand clutched at his face, smeared crimson from his own inflicted wounds. Pain radiated not just in body but in soul, deep and gnawing, as though some invisible beast had burrowed into him and feasted on every memory, every hope.
From outside came a pounding—fists against the heavy doors, the sound echoing like thunder. Shěnhuī's voice, raw and trembling, cut through the silence:
"Xuānluò! Please—listen to me! Just once more! Give me one chance… please, open the door!"
Her words cracked, broken between sobs. "I did it for us, for the kingdom! For you! Can't you see? I never stopped loving you!"
Xuānluò laughed bitterly through his tears, the sound twisted, half-choked. "Love? You call this love? Lies wrapped in 290 years of silence? That is not love—it is poison…" His voice faltered, and he pressed his bleeding hand against his chest. "And I drank it all."
The guards outside froze, wings drooping in shock. Some whispered among themselves, voices low and strained with fear and empathy.
One guard, fiercely loyal to Shěnhuī, hissed, "Let her in! If he hears her, he might calm down!"
Another growled in response, eyes flashing, "Calm down? You fool! He's drowning in betrayal—her voice is the blade cutting him deeper."
Their wings flared, talons scraping the stone. The two groups bristled, ready to clash. But an older guard stepped between them, his tone stern. "Enough. Do you want blood spilled in the halls? This is not our war. The king bleeds already. We will guard him… even from her."
Inside, Xuānluò had stumbled toward his sword, the fabric tied around his eyes to keep himself from flinching when the blade touched his throat. His guards burst in, seizing his arms before steel could bite into flesh. He struggled like a man possessed, wings thrashing, blood spraying from reopened wounds.
"No… I can't… I can't think… I can't…" he gasped, black blood dripping from his lips as he sought relief in ending himself.
From beyond the doors, Shěnhuī's cries grew wilder, her voice cracking until it was almost unrecognizable. "Xuānluò! Please! Look at me just once! Curse me, hate me, strike me down if you must—but don't shut me out! I beg you—don't torture me like this ! Let me out of here ! "
Her words echoed into his skull like claws scraping bone. He shook his head violently, trying to block her out. One more chance? After centuries of deception? If she truly loved him… why does it feel like she loved everything but him ?
The guards tightened their grip, careful to protect both the king and the kingdom. "We cannot let her in… not now," one whispered. "He is shattered… but he is right in his fury."
Shěnhuī's cries eventually cracked into silence, her fists sliding down the cold doors as her body collapsed against them. A failed lover, a broken mother, a woman whose fate now hung in uncertainty—whether she would live, survive, or vanish into disgrace, no one could tell.
And Xuānluò? He stood amidst the ruins of his own body and mind, bleeding, broken, and yet alive. The room smelled of iron and despair. Every heartbeat throbbed with the weight of betrayal, a drumbeat to a tragedy that had no resolution, only echoes of loss, rage, and shattered trust.
He sank to the floor, wings folding around him, trembling. His mind screamed for vengeance, for answers, for solace—and found nothing but darkness, a consuming void that swallowed him whole.
No one knew when—or if—he would rise again.