Chapter 298

King Menoetius walked hastily in the dimly lit corridor of his long, dark, grand palace passages. There are craven images of beasts on the wall, too. King Menoetius moved with a purpose that matched the intensity of the flickering torches. The shadows danced across his hardened features, casting a menacing glow on the ancient beasts carved into the stone walls. Each step echoed with the weight of his fury; the seven enchantresses who once whispered secrets of dark magic into his ear had vanished, leaving him in a sudden and stark solitude.

He hates himself for not knowing about Daniel’s identity sooner, or worse, for not killing him earlier. The moment Daniel exposed his secret to the enchantresses, they pinned him to the wall, tortured him, and left huge scars on his face.

He raised his hand, tracing the scars that were left by the enchantresses, and he winced in pain. He could remember the brunt of it—the way he screamed, the aching. Everything still echoes in his head