The Damned Demon

Chapter 786: Truths Better Left Unspoken



Lori's old cave was eerily silent, save for the slow, ragged breaths that escaped Lysandra's lips as she sat slumped against the stony wall, her body drenched in sweat and trembling with exhaustion.

The thick mist outside had been her only saving grace, concealing her from Drakar's men, who had hunted her relentlessly.

She had barely managed to outrun them, pushing her mana reserves to the brink multiple times while avoiding unnecessary fights. If she had drawn too much attention by confronting them, they would have called for reinforcements, and she wouldn't have made it this far.

She had to make sure to lose them before heading to this place, making it quite difficult for her.

She let out a shuddering breath, her head leaning against the damp rock behind her. She had consumed too many mana potions, each one giving her just enough energy to keep moving, but now... now her body was at its limit.

Her limbs felt heavy, her vision blurred, and for a brief moment, she felt as if she might drift away into the darkness.

But then-

A familiar presence. One she hadn't felt in far too long.

A soft gust of wind brushed against the cave's entrance, followed by the gentle thud of boots landing with grace. Even before she lifted her head, she already knew who it was.

"Lysandra..."

That deep, familiar voice pierced through her haze, anchoring her back to reality. Her eyes fluttered open, catching sight of a tall figure at the entrance, his long moon-white hair cascading over his broad shoulders, his dove-gray skin faintly illuminated by the dim glow of the cave.

His dark yellow eyes, which always held an air of mystery and resolve, now softened with relief and worry as they landed upon her weakened form.

"Asher..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but her expression softened with relief and warmth.

Asher wasted no time. He rushed toward her, his boots kicking up the damp dirt beneath him, and crouched before her, his hands instinctively gripping her shoulders as his eyes scanned her from head to toe.

"Are you alright? You don't look good," he said, his voice laced with concern.

Lysandra weakly nodded, exhaling a deep breath, "I will be fine. I'm just... tired. I didn't have time to rest." Her fingers tightly clutched her dress, as if to suppress the shame she felt for appearing so weak before him and failing at one thing she had set out to do.

"I'm sorry if I made you worry."

Asher shook his head immediately, his grip on her shoulders tightening, "No, it's okay. I came here earlier, but you weren't here. I also couldn't contact you. Drakar took your Whisper Stone, didn't he?"

Lysandra's expression faltered for a brief moment before she let out a slow nod. "Yes... he took it."

Her voice was low, filled with unspoken frustration. After Drakar took away her Whisper Stone, she had been completely cut off from Asher, forced to navigate her escape alone while the Draconian forces swarmed the lands.

But what troubled her most wasn't losing the Whisper Stone.

It was the failure she felt weighing down on her chest.

She swallowed hard before speaking, "I failed..." Her voice trembled slightly. "I failed again to destroy him, and I let you down."

Asher's brows furrowed as he saw the regret glistening in her eyes, "Lysandra... you didn't—"

"No," she interjected, shaking her head, "I thought I could at least delay him, but in the end, I couldn't even do that. And while I was running... your kingdom... I couldn't offer you my help to protect it. I failed to keep my promise."

She lowered her head, guilt gnawing at her insides, "I thought you wouldn't be back for a while. You should go and defend your kingdom. Drakar and his armies will get there soon." A heavy silence followed.

But what Lysandra didn't expect was the deep sigh Asher let out as he lowered his gaze.

And then― his next words sent a chill down her spine, "No... I am the one who failed my kingdom and my people."

Lysandra's brows knitted together. Something felt wrong.

"Why are you saying that?" she asked cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper, "What happened?"

Asher let out a long, heavy exhale, his fingers curling into tight fists. He didn't speak immediately, as if dreading the words he was about to say.

And then he told her everything.

The destruction of his kingdom and how he was too late.

The countless deaths.

The sacrifices done by his people to salvage whatever was left of his

kingdom.

Lysandra sat there, her entire body frozen, unable to process the devastation that had unfolded while she had been running for her life. Her heart clenched painfully as she imagined the streets of the once-proud kingdom burning, its people screaming for salvation that never came.

"No..." Her dark, fiery red eyes shimmered with sorrow as she gently reached out, her fingers brushing against his hand. She didn't know what to say, how to comfort him.

She felt helpless.

"If only I had gathered the courage to kill him decades ago... maybe... maybe things wouldn't have turned out this way," she said, her voice laced with self-loathing, "I was so afraid of losing my son that I couldn't act. But in the end... it was all for nothing. I still ended up losing

more."

Her voice cracked, and Asher felt a sharp pang in his chest at the mention of Agonon.

His hand loosened in hers.

The weight of his secret pressed down heavily upon him.

Rowena's face flashed in his mind-the way her love turned into heartbreak, the pain in her

eyes when she learned the truth.

And now... Lysandra was still in the dark.

If he continued to hide it from her, if she found out on her own-

No.

He wouldn't repeat the same mistake.

He wouldn't let her feel the same betrayal Rowena had felt, even if it was too late.

His body tensed as he took a step back, his expression grave.

And then- with a heavy heart, he spoke the words that would shatter her world.

"Lysandra..." he began, his voice low. "I should have told you this a long time ago, but... I

can't bear to keep it from you any longer."

Her eyes flickered with confusion and a hint of unease.

But then her expression became heavy as her fingers began to slowly curl up.

Asher took a deep breath, his jaw tightening.

And then-

"I lied. Agonon is dead. And I... I was the one who killed him."

The moment Asher's words left his lips, the world seemed to freeze around them.

The air within the cave turned deathly still, thick with unspoken grief. Lysandra's eyes shuddered, an almost imperceptible tremble, but Asher caught it-that fleeting moment of raw pain before her entire form became unnaturally still.

It was as though she had stopped breathing entirely.

Asher's chest grew heavier at the sight of her expression-a hollow, frozen mask. He could

feel the weight of his own words crushing down on him, but he had to say it. He had to tell her everything, no matter how much it hurt.

"It was during the Quest of the Worthy..." he continued, his voice strained. "We all happened to be in the place where the final reward was. He tried to kill me, so I..." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I had to kill him to protect myself and my people. At that moment, I was angry, so I... I turned him into an undead to serve me even if his soul was no longer there."

Lysandra remained silent, unmoving.

Asher clenched his fists, forcing himself to go on, "And then I used him to make you help me fight Drakar. I just... never expected to fall in love with you, making it harder for me to tell the truth." He exhaled sharply, his guilt suffocating him, "But I no longer want to keep it hidden

from you. I don't want to wrong you anymore."

The silence between them was deafening.

Then-Lysandra moved.

Slowly. Deliberately.

She pushed herself up-not trembling, not struggling-but with a calm, unnerving precision.

Asher blinked, stepping forward instinctively. "Lysandra... are you-"

But the words died in his throat the moment he saw her face.

There was nothing in her expression.

No anger. No sorrow.

Just... emptiness. Then, without a word, she turned away from him and walked toward the cave entrance, her

silver-dark wings unfurling.

"Lysandra, wait! What are you doing? It isn't safe for you out there!"

He took a step forward, reaching out, but stopped just a few feet behind her.

Lysandra stood motionless, her back to him.

And then, in a low, fragile voice, she finally spoke, "Why did you bother to tell me now, after

hiding it for so long?"

Asher's heart twisted painfully.

She continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "You should have hidden it from me until

the end." Asher blinked. Confusion settled in his features, "You... you knew?"

Lysandra exhaled shakily, but her tone remained cold and distant, "How could I not recognize

the absence of my own son's soul?"

Asher staggered back as if she had struck him.

"Every time you brought him out," she continued, her voice brittle, "I saw nothing that

resembled my son in there."

Asher's breath hitched, realization hitting him like a dagger to the gut.

That was why she never asked about Agonon after the first few times.

Why she never pleaded to see him again.

It wasn't because it pained her to see him in such a state.

It was because she had already known.

"Then why..." Asher's voice was hoarse, "Why did you not say anything? Why did you not do

anything?" Asher expected someone like her would have tried to kill him over it or at least

expressed anger.

Lysandra's shoulders slightly tensed, but she didn't turn around.

She hesitated, her fingers curling tightly before she whispered, "Because I didn't want to

accept the truth."

Her voice was heavy, thick with something he couldn't place.

She took a shuddering breath, then continued, "And I needed you to kill Drakar."

A sharp pang of pain flashed through Asher's chest, but it was drowned out by something deeper-something far more painful.

Because he knew what she was about to say next.

"But somewhere along the way..." Lysandra's voice began to crack, her tone fragile-so

unlike her usual self, "You made me feel for you even if I tried to not let that happen." Asher's fingers clawed at his chest, his own breathing turning shallow. Lysandra finally turned her head slightly, just enough for him to catch the profile of her face.

He saw it then the tears threatening to spill, the barely restrained anguish.

"And that made me want to believe your lies."

Her eyes darkened, as if she were seeing memories she wished to forget, "I desperately

wished I would never have to hear such a truth from you."

Her voice was barely audible, but each word cut into him like a blade, "You should have kept

me fooled until the end because I would have kept believing it."

Asher's knees nearly buckled.

"But no."

Her voice grew bitter, yet still so painfully quiet, "You only wanted to absolve yourself of

guilt, and I turned myself into a disgraceful mother who wronged my dead son."

"Lysandra... I..." Asher's hands trembled, his throat tightening painfully, "That's not entirely true. I didn't want to hurt you anymore." Lysandra exhaled sharply, her body visibly shaking.

She closed her eyes, as if forcing herself to push her emotions deep down, locking them away.

Then, in a voice devoid of warmth, she whispered, "You already have."

Asher felt like the world had collapsed around him.

And then-she moved.

Her wings unfurled fully, the powerful gust of wind whipping around her.

Asher lunged forward, his hand outstretched. "Lysandra, wait!"

But she didn't turn back.

Instead, she said one final thing, "Don't follow me, if you truly feel regret."

Then, with a powerful beat of her wings, she soared into the sky-disappearing into the

clouds.

Asher's hand slowly lowered as he watched her vanish into the cold, endless night.

His breathing grew ragged, his heart pounding painfully.

The cave was silent once more.

Then, like a man whose soul had been torn apart, Asher staggered back, his legs giving out

beneath him.

He collapsed to his knees, his fingers digging into his scalp, as his chest heaved.

"Lysandra..."

Her name escaped his lips, but it was already too late.

She was gone.

And he was alone.

With nothing but the weight of his guilt crushing him from within.