The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 218 218: Deitiesʼ interest

Then, with a growl of frustrated rage, Dagur backed away. ”This isnʼt finished,” he snarled. He turned and stalked back toward the treeline, his massive form soon swallowed by the deepening shadows. Dagur was also unsure about facing Hamen here. And moreover, he had things to do.

He only came to finish the two of them, but he thought it would be better if he left for now.

Casting one last glance at Jolthar, he left the field.

Count Hamen turned his attention to Myron. ”And what about you, young man?”

Myronʼs jaw tightened, but the weight of his fatherʼs gaze from above was unmistakable.

Inadrysʼ voice could be heard in his mind; his face twisted with anger, but he sighed as he shook his head.

With a final empty glance at Jolthar, Myron turned and departed, his armour still crackling with divine energy that reflected his barely contained anger.

Jolthar watched him leave.

Once the deivrutha had retreated, Hamen kneeling beside the semi-conscious mage.

”Your father would be most displeased if I allowed his heir to perish in such an undignified manner,” he murmured, examining Wymarʼs injuries with experienced hands.

From a pouch at his belt, he withdrew a small crystal vial containing liquid that glowed with an inner blue light. With gentle care, he administered three drops to Wymarʼs parched lips.

The effect was immediate. Colour returned to the mageʼs ashen features, and his breathing stabilized. Though still gravely injured, he would now survive the journey home.

With a gesture to Nohnath, the Count carefully lifted Wymar and secured him to the wyvernʼs saddle.

Maelruth lowered its back to Jolthar as he straddled her back with a groan. His body ached every time he made a movement.

Count Hamen mounted Nohnath once more. The magnificent wyvern spread its leathery wings, the sunlight filtering through the membranes and casting a crimson glow across the battlefield. With a powerful downstroke that flattened the surrounding grass, it launched into the air, bearing the Count and the unconscious form of Wymar eastward toward the castle.

Jolthar leaned forward on the drakeʼs back as she started moving towards the county. His long blade is now sheathed after a long battle.

High above, unseen by mortal eyes save his sonʼs, Inadrys—Inadrys—watched a moment longer. His divine eyes narrowed in thought as pieces moved upon the cosmic board. Then, with a gesture, he drew the clouds back across the gap, withdrawing his direct observation of the mortal realm—for now.

—— ∗ ——

High upon Illumarhen, Inadrys sat brooding on his golden throne. His azure eyes, crackling with electric power, were fixed not on the affairs of deities but on the Midlands far below—specifically, on an eighteen-year-old boy named Jolthar.

The King of Deities drummed his fingers against the armrest, thunder rumbling in the distance with each tap.

The recent battle should have been insignificant—merely mortals squabbling over land and pride. Yet what Inadrys had witnessed disturbed him deeply.

Joltharʼs unusual power was making him uneasy, he, the king of the Illumarhen. It was eating him away.

”Impossible,” Inadrys muttered. ”I am the All-Father, the Sky King. No mortalʼs essence should be hidden from me.”

Yet Jolthar remained a mystery, shrouded in some divine protection Inadrys could not penetrate. The boy moved through the world with an aura that defied explanation—not mortal, but something else entirely.

Inadrys had already consulted Vydera again. The last time, she told him that she would look into it. She had appeared before his throne with her ancient eyes downcast, her fingers nervously twisting the threads of destiny.

”I cannot tell you who this child is, nor what future awaits him,” she had whispered, fear evident in her voice—fear that Inadrys rarely witnessed in immortal beings. ”His thread... it weaves differently. It shimmers with colours I have never seen.”

”I have never come across anyone with such bizarre threads woven around them. But I can say that his existence is far beyond our reach.”

Inadrys had responded with fury, summoning lightning that shattered columns in his throne room.

He was even more frustrated that Myron had gone and done nothing when he had the perfect opportunity.

Myron had failed. He just left when some obstacles appeared. He couldnʼt understand why he even hesitated. If he had reacted right when he said to, he would have taken Joltharʼs life.

Myron now hid in shame at a tavern in the county of Godeylet.

Today, Inadrys had summoned the deity Haryntha, his sister known for deception, seduction, and manipulation. She stood before him now, her usually merry face solemn.

”Brother, you called for me?”

”Haryntha.” Inadrysʼs voice was low, controlled. ”I need you to do something for me.”

”What is it?”

”There is a mortal boy in the Midlands. Jolthar is his name. I want you to go to him and befriend him. Discover what power he possesses that allows him to defy even my sight.”

”Oh, can such a mortal exist? Who is this boy?” Her eyes glinted with curiosity.

Inadrys raised an eyebrow and said in a firm tone, ”Haryntha, do as I tell you.”

Haryntha bowed her head. ”As you wish, Brother.” She knew better than to question him when he was in a foul mood. But she was quite interested in this mortal who managed to make her brother anxious.

As Haryntha departed, neither noticed the peacock feather that floated from behind a nearby column.

*

In her private chambers, Ivyona paced furiously.

The Queen of the Deities was still seething from Inadrysʼ latest affair with the mortal. She was so shocked when he took her to his mysterious pleasure garden.

Now, this mysterious focus on a mortal boy felt suspicious—perhaps another of Inadrysʼs offspring? Another betrayal?

The peacock that had served as her spy transformed back into her daughter, Elyna.

”Tell me everything,” Ivyona demanded.

Elyna recounted Inadrysʼs conversation with Haryntha. ”Father seems troubled, Mother. Not lustful or protective as he usually is. This seems different—he appears afraid.”

”Inadrys, afraid of a mortal?” Ivyona scoffed, but curiosity sparked within her. ”After Haryntha leaves, I want you to follow her. Watch this boy yourself.”