Chapter 45: Dawn Saw It

Liv slowly peeked outside the curtain of the carriage, her eyes are narrowing as she assessed the scene before her. The night air was cool against her skin, carrying with it the distant sounds of the city—the creaking of wheels, the murmur of voices, the occasional bark of a dog.

The street was dimly lit, the torches that lined the cobblestones flickering weakly, their flames are struggling against the gentle breeze that swept through the area.

One of the elite soldiers was talking to a peasant immortal who was driving a carriage, their voices was low and indistinct. The peasant was an older man, his face was weathered with age, his clothes was simple and worn.

He sat hunched on the driver’s seat, his hands are gripping the reins loosely, his expression was carefully neutral. Behind him, the carriage was piled high with what appeared to be harvest vegetables and eggs, the produce arranged in neat baskets that suggested a long journey from the countryside.

Liv watched the exchange for a moment, her hand was resting on the hilt of her sword, her body was tense with readiness. She had been on edge all night, had been anticipating danger at every turn. The search for Eiravelle had been long and fruitless, and the lack of progress was wearing on her nerves.

She sighed and glanced back at Dawn, who was sitting in the corner of the carriage, her helmet was still on and her body was stiff with tension.

"It’s just a checkpoint," Liv said, her voice was low and reassuring. "Nothing else."

Hearing that brought so much relief to Dawn. The princess let out a breath she had not realized she was holding, her shoulders are sagging with the release of tension. She had been worried, had been afraid that they had been discovered, that her presence in the search party would be revealed. But it was just a checkpoint, just a routine inspection. Nothing to worry about.

As they checked the carriage, the soldier approached Liv’s carriage and bowed, his armor was gleaming in the dim light.

"General," the soldier said, his voice was respectful. "The carriage is clean. No one is inside, just harvest vegetables and some eggs from a nearby farm." Liv nodded, her expression was neutral. "He shall pass," she said.

The soldier bowed again and turned to allow the carriage to pass.

"Let him pass!" the soldier yelled.

Dawn peeked outside the window, her curiosity was getting the better of her. She watched as the carriage began to move, the wheels creaking against the cobblestones, the peasant driver was urging his horses forward. It was a simple scene, an everyday occurrence that she had seen countless times before.

But then she saw it. A familiar tattoo on the man’s hand.

It was small, barely visible in the dim light, but Dawn recognized it immediately. Her blood ran cold, her heart was skipping a beat, her breath caught in her throat. She had seen that tattoo before, had seen it on the hands of the men who had abducted her and who had tortured her.

"No," she muttered, her voice was barely above a whisper.

Liv was confused, her brows are furrowing as she looked at the princess. "What was that, Your Highness?" She asked.

Dawn did not answer. Her mind was racing, her thoughts are tumbling over each other as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The tattoo, the carriage, the vegetables—it was all a diversion.

"Stop that carriage," Dawn commanded, her voice was suddenly sharp and urgent.

Liv was confused, her hand was still resting on the hilt of her sword. "What do you—" she started, but she could not finish. Dawn took off her helmet, her face was pale and her eyes were blazing with determination. "Stop that carriage! It was a diversion!" She yelled.

Liv’s eyes widened as realization dawned on her. The princess was right. The carriage was a diversion, a distraction designed to draw the soldiers away from the real threat. And they had almost let it pass.

She immediately went out of the carriage, her voice ringing out through the night air. "Stop that carriage!" She yelled.

The man who had just passed by was alarmed. His head snapped back, and he immediately urged his horses forward, driving faster than before. The carriage lurched, the wheels rattled against the cobblestones, and the horses neighed with exertion.

And as expected, black magic.

Liv saw the dark tendrils of magic curling around the carriage, saw the way the air seemed to shimmer and twist, saw the malevolent energy that pulsed from the man’s body. She had seen black magic before, had fought against those who practiced it. But she had never seen it used in such a brazen manner, in the middle of the city, with so many witnesses nearby.

"No," she muttered, and pulled her sword from its sheath.

"Your Highness, stay here," Liv said, her voice was firm and commanding.

Dawn was not able to talk, was not able to argue, when Liv rode a different horse to chase after the man. The General was gone in an instant, her horse was galloping down the street, and her sword gleamed in the moonlight.

The chase became long and dangerous.

The man was fast, his horses were driven by the dark magic that coursed through his veins. He left toxic powders in the air, clouds of noxious gas that spread behind him like a poisonous fog.

The other dark elite soldiers were immediately down, their bodies collapsed to the ground, and their lungs were filling with the toxic fumes. They did not have the immunity protection that Liv had, had not been trained to resist such poisons.

Liv could not stop for them. She had to keep going, had to catch the man before he could escape. She controlled the horse faster and faster, her thighs are gripping the animal’s sides, her body was leaning forward in the saddle.

She whispered words of magic, ancient words that she had learned long ago, and the horse’s speed increased, its hooves barely touching the ground, its body surged with power.

In the sky, Qazaethel saw everything.

She had been flying above the city, her golden scales are gleaming in the moonlight and her eyes scanned the streets below. She had seen the checkpoint, had seen the carriage pass, had seen the sudden commotion that erupted in its wake. And she had seen the black magic, had felt the malevolent energy that pulsed from the man who was fleeing.

Without hesitation, she descended.

She transformed back into her regal image form, her body shifted and changed, her scales melted away to reveal her human shape. She landed on the street before the fleeing carriage, her robes are billowing around her, her eyes are blazing with cold fury. She raised one hand, and the carriage stopped.

Not just stopped. It shattered.

The wood splintered, the wheels collapsed, the horses had reared and screamed. The man was thrown from his seat, his body was tumbling through the air before landing hard on the cobblestones. He cried out in pain, his limbs were twisted at unnatural angles and his face was contorted with agony.

The scene was unbelievable. Even Liv was shocked to witness it, her horse was skidding to a halt, her eyes are wide with disbelief. She had known that Qazaethel was powerful, had seen her display her strength on numerous occasions. But she had never seen anything like this, had never witnessed the raw, unrestrained force that the Sovereign could unleash.

Good thing that the people in that area were already inside their homes and were sleeping. They had not seen the dragon descend from the sky, had not witnessed the destruction of the carriage, had not heard the screams of the man who had been thrown from his seat. They were blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding in their streets.

Liv halted her horse and got down, her legs are trembling slightly as she approached the Sovereign.

"Your Majesty," she breathed, her voice was filled with a mixture of awe and fear.

Qazaethel’s cold, piercing gaze remained fixed on the crawling man. She did not acknowledge Liv’s presence, did not respond to the greeting. Her attention was entirely focused on the man who had tried to escape, the man who had used black magic, and the man who was now crawling on the ground like a wounded animal.

"Why are you chasing after him?" Qazaethel asked, her voice was cold and demanding.

She slowly approached the crawling man, her steps were measured and deliberate. The man tried to scramble away, tried to crawl toward the shadows, but Qazaethel was faster.

She reached down and yanked his head up, her fingers are tangling in his hair, and forcefully made him lay on the floor by his stomach. Then she stepped a foot on the man’s face, pressing down with enough force to make him whimper in pain.

"Your Majesty," Liv said, her voice was carefully measured. "Princess Dawn saw him and told me to chase after him. She said it was a diversion."

Qazaethel’s eyes flickered, her gaze are shifting from the man to Liv. "Dawn? Dawn is here?" She asked, her voice was cold and sharp.

Liv suddenly realized her mistake. She had revealed Dawn’s presence without thinking, had exposed the princess to the Sovereign’s scrutiny. She had promised to protect Dawn, had sworn to keep her involvement a secret. But now, the secret was out.

"So you let the princess do a work here?" Qazaethel asked, her voice was dangerously low.

Liv immediately knelt, her head was bowed, her body was trembling with fear. "Please forgive me. The princess, she—"

"Enough," Qazaethel said, cutting her off.

Liv looked up, her eyes were wide with surprise. She had expected punishment, had expected anger. But Qazaethel’s expression had softened, had lost some of its coldness.

"You both had done nothing wrong," Qazaethel said, her voice was quieter now. "Let her help if she wants to."

Liv’s face lit up with relief, a smile spreading across her features. She had been afraid, had been terrified that she would be punished, that her position would be jeopardized. But the Sovereign had forgiven her, had understood that she had acted out of necessity.

But her relief faded when Dawn arrived riding a horse.

The princess galloped into view, her dark elite armor gleamed in the moonlight, her helmet was taken off and her hair streamed behind her. She pulled her horse to a halt, her eyes are wide as she took in the scene before her—the shattered carriage, the injured man, the Sovereign standing over him with her foot on his face that even Qazaethel’s boots was screaming power.

Qazaethel was shocked to see her.

"You...!" Her voice hardened, her eyes suddenly blazed with a mixture of anger and disbelief. She turned to Liv, her expression were furious. "You let her wear the dark elite armor?!"

Her voice echoed loudly on the empty street, powerful and full of justified anger. The dark elite armor was a symbol of honor, of hard work, of years of training and sacrifice.

It was strictly prohibited for unauthorized omegas or alphas to wear it. And Dawn, the princess of Ashrein, the future Phoenix Consort, had been parading around in it as though it were a common costume.

Liv flinched like a child, her shoulders are shrugging defensively. "M-Maybe I did?" She said, her voice was small. "Well... Yeah?"

She was trying to sound like she owned the mistake, was trying to take full responsibility. But she also could not help but hint that she had not been entirely at fault, that Dawn had insisted on joining the search.

Qazaethel sighed, her hand moved to massage the bridge of her nose. She could feel a headache forming, could feel the frustration building in her chest.

"What am I going to do with you both?" She muttered. "First, Liv, you already broke the rule about dark elite armors. Second, you let Dawn come in here despite knowing the consequences, and third? She... Argh! Forget it!"

She was annoyed, was frustrated, and was exhausted. But she could not stay angry, could not hold onto her fury. These were the people she trusted most, the people who had stood by her through thick and thin. They had made mistakes, had broken the rules, but they had done so out of loyalty, out of a desire to help.

"You both are forgiven," Qazaethel said, her voice heavy with resignation.

Liv immediately lunged forward, her arms are outstretched, her face lit up with joy. She was about to hug the Sovereign, was about to wrap her arms around her in a gesture of gratitude and affection.

But Qazaethel shot her a glare. "Don’t you even dare," she said, her voice was cold and warning.

Liv whimpered, her arms are dropping to her sides, her expression shifted to one of a defeated puppy. "Just once?" She asked, her voice was pleading.

Qazaethel still shot her a glare.

All Dawn could do was chuckle silently, her hand was covering her mouth to stifle the sound. She looked away, hiding her amusement, her eyes sparkled with mirth. She had never seen this side of Qazaethel before, had never witnessed the easy camaraderie that existed between the Sovereign and her General. It was refreshing, was endearing, was a reminder that even the most powerful rulers were still beings with feelings.

But Qazaethel’s eyes flickered at the man’s tattoo on his hand.

"Ahkya," Qazaethel muttered, her voice was barely above a whisper.

She already knew what it was. She had seen that tattoo before, had encountered the organization that used it as their mark. The Ahkya was a shadow organization that operated in the darkest corners of the realm, dealing in the trafficking of omegas, selling them like cattle to the highest bidder. They were ruthless, were relentless, were a blight on the civilized world.

"What is it, Your Majesty?" Liv asked, her voice was curious..

Qazaethel was silent for a moment, her gaze was fixed on the tattoo. Then she spoke, her voice was faltering despite her attempts to remain neutral.

"These men... They abducted Dawn once, and I was there to witness them..."

She did not finish the sentence. She did not need to. The memories of that day were still fresh in her mind, still vivid and painful. She had seen the Ahkya at work, had witnessed their cruelty, had barely managed to save Dawn from their clutches at that time.

"They butcher and sell Omegas in the black market," Dawn said, answering the question that Liv had asked. Her voice was steady, but there was a shadow in her eyes, a darkness that spoke of the trauma she had endured. "Others are being sold as slaves."

Liv was shocked. She had heard rumors of the black market, had heard whispers of the atrocities that took place in its shadows. But she had never imagined the full extent of the horror, had never understood the depth of the evil that existed in the world.

Qazaethel’s expression hardened, her eyes were blazing with cold fury. She had been searching for Eiravelle, had been desperate to find her before it was too late. And now, she had confirmation of her worst fears. Eiravelle had been taken by the Ahkya.

"Send the entire army," Qazaethel ordered, her voice was ringing with authority. "Seal the gates and every portal. No one comes in or gets out."

Liv nodded, her expression was resolute. "I will, Your Majesty," she said.

She turned and hurried away, her voice was ringing out as she called for the soldiers, as she relayed the Sovereign’s orders. The night air filled with the sound of activity, of soldiers mobilizing, of orders being shouted, and horses being saddled.

Qazaethel stood in the middle of the street, her eyes were fixed on the horizon, her heart was heavy with fear and determination. She would find Eiravelle. She would save her. And she would destroy anyone who had dared to harm her.

The hunt had begun.

***

Dawn watched as the soldiers mobilized, as the night came alive with activity. She had never seen anything like this before, had never witnessed the full force of the Sovereign’s power. It was awe-inspiring, was terrifying, was a reminder of the stakes that were at play.

She thought of Eiravelle, of the omega she had never met, of the woman who carried Qazaethel’s child. She thought of the fear that Eiravelle must be feeling, the loneliness, the despair. She thought of the child growing inside her, the innocent life that hung in the balance.

The night continued, dark and cold, the city of Solkanaia was waking from its slumber as the search intensified. The gates were sealed, the portals were blocked, and the soldiers were deployed.

No one would enter. No one would leave. The Ahkya would be trapped, would be cornered, and would be destroyed.

And somewhere in the darkness, Eiravelle waited, her fate was unknown, her hope was fading with every passing moment. But she was not forgotten. She was not abandoned. The Sovereign was coming for her, and nothing would stand in her way.