Obsidian's Reign ¹

∷ Chapter 50 ∷

CLARA GASPED AWAKE, a rush of oxygen storming her lungs as she swallowed mouthfuls of air. The last thing she remembered was plunging the stake into Luther's chest, her own throbbing with pain. Her eyes widened when she recalled its source—he had ripped her heart straight from her chest.

In a moment of panic, her first instinct was to feel her heartbeat or lack thereof, though she found it to be an impossibility, a weight keeping her hands firm by her side.

She glanced down, realising for the first time that she was not alone. Zephyr was slouched in the chair by the bed, his hand cradling hers and keeping her from moving. There was a strain between his brows, furrowed as they were with his lips turned down in a frown.

His presence seemed to ebb the panic welling within her, her attention now solely focused on him. She opened her mouth to rouse him, but the only words she could muster was a raspy croak which erupted soon after into a full-blown coughing fit. The sound woke Zephyr from his moment of sleep as he jolted upright, panic evident on his face before he realised it was Clara who was coughing.

Zephyr blinked, taking a second to register that she was awake. And once the realisation had settled, he rushed to wrap his arms around her in an almost suffocating hug.

"I was so worried," he mumbled repeatedly under his breath as Clara returned his affection despite her overwhelming state of confusion.

When he pulled away, at last, the worry lines on his face had smoothened out, a light tinge in his eyes as relief flooded his features. He couldn't seem to do anything except stare at her until something clicked in his mind and he scrambled for the glass of water by the bedside table.

"Here, drink this."

Clara accepted the glass and downed its contents, grateful for the coolness to her parched throat.

"How are you feeling?" Zephyr asked.

The simple question was enough to send her confusion spiralling once more as she gripped the material over her chest. She waited with bated breath and when she could not feel what she so desperately wanted to, her eyes started dappling with tears just before they spilt over the edge and down her cheeks.

"Clara . . ." Zephyr whispered, aware of the reason behind her misery, though he said nothing of the fact.

He remained quiet, not wishing to push her until she turned her glossy eyes in his direction.

"He ripped my heart out," she said, voice thick with tears. "And I . . . How am I still alive? I shouldn't– I shouldn't be alive."

Zephyr winced at the pain in her tone, collecting his thoughts before saying, "Clara . . . I think you know how you're still alive."

An unsolicited sob wrecked through her as she hurried to cover her mouth with shaking hands. Of course, she knew. But a part of her still wished it wasn't true; wished Zephyr would contradict her assumptions with the truth and all would be well. But his clear hesitance in denying the fact was all the proof she needed.

She was no longer human.

She glanced at the forlorn expression on Zephyr's face—interlaced with feelings of guilt—and she knew he was responsible for her transformation.

"Am I . . . dead?" she asked, wiping her face with the back of her hands.

The innocent question caused a chuckle to escape him, to which she smiled despite the drying tears.

"You're not dead," he said. "Not technically."

He paused, sighing, as the smile fell from his face.

"I'm sorry," he said.

The apology came as a surprise to her. She knew it wasn't easy for him to admit his mistakes, let alone apologise for them, but here he was—doing both without a second thought.

"I shouldn't have done it without consulting you but I–"

He lowered his gaze, hands clenched into fists.

"I couldn't stand the thought of losing you even before we've had any time together. I was selfish. I know that now. But . . ." he paused to look her in the eyes, an unexplainable emotion wavering within their depths. "But I don't regret it. If I have even a moment longer with you, I will never regret it."

Clara was taken aback by his bold confession, her initial reaction to her death and transformation into a demon now on the back burner.

"You . . ." she started to say.

"I don't know what I'm feeling but I . . . I feel things when I'm with you and I think I–" he exhaled, attempting to restructure his thoughts once more before settling on a simple, "I care for you, Clara."

The shocked expression remained prevalent on her face for a few extended seconds before it shifted to one of easy acceptance.

With a smile, she said, "Me too."

She understood her emotions well and knew almost instantly what she was feeling for the demon lord, but seeing him struggle to voice his feelings, she figured it would be better not to use the word just yet.

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A FEW THINGS came to light after Clara had gotten over her confusion of being a demon. The first was exactly how she'd come to be as such.

The process was fairly simple—a kiss to exchange one's soul for a demon's essence. But seeing as how she was at the point of apparent death before Zephyr's interruption, there was no need for the exchange; her transformation completed with the help of his essence alone.

The second was the confirmation of Luther's end—news that was accompanied by the recollection of events that had transpired on both ends. The conversation drifted from the fight itself to those who'd been hurt. And it was then Clara was made aware of Jae's death. He'd sacrificed himself to keep his subordinates safe without a second thought and it was this quality amongst the many others that made him fit to be the leader of the Elite; a position neither Zephyr nor Rylan wished to embrace after his death.

The end of the Elite was unexpected and had come sooner than anyone would've thought. And yet, it seemed the most logical thing to do. The Elite would not have felt right, or been the same, without Jae.

She'd also learned, through conversations with Rylan, of Marek's betrayal. The attendant had been forced to spy on her and report his findings directly to the king. The motivation behind the task was still unknown, but the king had enough influence to get Marek to do as he wished. It was the sole reason he was made Clara's attendant, after all, a reason completely different from what she'd initially fathomed.

Marek hadn't been to see her since her arrival back in the Underworld. Yet, she was aware that he was the one who begged the king for assistance after being hurtled down the portal. His betrayal started the horrors of the ensuing battle in Heaven, but he'd also begged for their lives to be spared, leading to Lucan's involvement.

She wished very much that he would speak to her about it, but the last she heard, he'd left the castle, gone to start his life afresh elsewhere after being let off by the king.

Things around Farrador seemed different too. There was an unspoken tension in the air that set everyone on edge. Nothing seemed quite like it used to be.

In her moments of recuperation, Clara often found herself thinking of Jae and the brief impact he had on her life. They weren't close, despite being betrothed, but he'd offered her genuine advice and a listening ear on more than one occasion. She would miss him, as odd as that might seem, and she could only fathom a guess as to the impact his loss might have on those who knew him better.

The Cains, too, were on the road to recovery. Lucan's antidote based on the angel's blood having saved them from succumbing to their injuries. Though she wondered exactly how he'd obtained vials upon vials of them, she knew better than to give voice to her curiosities. Some things were better left to one's assumptions.