Chapter 336: The Castle of Stone and the Father Who Cared Too Much
Chapter 336: The Castle of Stone and the Father Who Cared Too Much
Elyn’s POV
I blinked.
And then I realised that we were no longer in the palace.
We were standing in the middle of what I could only assume was the Golemhold Territory, and more specifically, inside the castle itself.
A vast hall stretched before us, its ceiling so high that it almost disappeared into the distance. Towering pillars carved from smooth grey stone rose on either side, each etched with intricate patterns that looked less like decorations and more like stories frozen into rock. The floor beneath my feet gleamed as though it had been polished for years, reflecting the soft light that bathed the chamber.
I slowly turned in a circle, taking everything in.
It was... beautiful.
This honestly wasn’t what I had expected.
When someone said Golemhold, I had imagined a bleak fortress built entirely from rough boulders and jagged cliffs—a place where everything was grey, cold, and intimidating.
Instead, the castle possessed a quiet elegance.
Every wall had been sculpted from different kinds of stone, each carrying its own unique texture and shade. Some were pale silver. Others held hints of blue or soft brown.
Veins of shimmering minerals ran naturally through the rock, creating patterns that no artist could have designed.
The pillars resembled enormous trees carved from marble.
There were no unnecessary luxuries.
No golden ornaments.
No extravagant jewels.
Yet somehow... it was breathtaking.
Aelthryn should really take notes from the demon realm.
Then my attention drifted upward toward the ceiling.
There were no chandeliers.
No lanterns.
No candles.
Instead, hundreds of glowing crystals had been embedded directly into the stone overhead.
Some shone with a gentle white radiance that reminded me of fluorescent lights from Earth.
Others glowed pale blue.
Some carried faint golden hues, while a few shimmered with soft violet and emerald colours.
Together, they illuminated the enormous chamber so evenly that there wasn’t a single dark corner to be found.
I found myself staring.
They were beautiful.
Zorathys followed my gaze upward, his ruby eyes tracking the same lights I had been studying.
"Curious?" he asked, his voice carrying that familiar lazy drawl.
I nodded.
"What are they?" I asked.
Zorathys’s lips curved into a small smile.
"They are called Lunacite Stones," he said. "They are rocks—or stones, depending on who you ask—that have the ability to illuminate spaces. They glow naturally."
I looked up at the ceiling again, studying the soft glow.
"They’re beautiful," I said. "And there are so many."
Zorathys nodded.
"They’re found deep beneath the mountains," he continued. "The Stone Demons have mined them for thousands of years."
"Humans once attempted to invade because of them," Dracolthar added.
My attention shifted toward him.
"They did?"
Zorathys nodded.
"Many centuries ago."
"They wanted the Lunacite Stones," he continued. "Their colours were considered treasures. Human nobles believed possessing them would elevate their kingdoms above all others."
"So they started a war?"
"They attempted to, but they lost."
His answer was so matter-of-fact that I almost laughed.
"That was a very short explanation."
"There wasn’t much else to explain."
Dracolthar nodded eagerly and then spoke up.
"The humans discovered that Stone Demons become rather upset when someone tries stealing their rocks."
"I imagine they would."
"They became extremely upset."
"I can imagine."
"They buried an entire army."
I blinked at that, clearly taken aback.
"By buried... you mean underground?" I asked.
I knew it was a foolish question, but I just wanted to know. Besides, this was the demon realm. Who knew if buried did not specifically mean underground?
"Mm," he said with a nod. "Alive too."
I stared at him.
"...Remind me never to steal a rock."
"Wise decision, Your Majesty."
My gaze drifted back toward the ceiling.
"They’re honestly remarkable."
"They come in hundreds of colours," Brixton said softly. "My father takes me collecting sometimes. I have my own collection too. Father said Mother liked them too."
Zorathys nodded slowly.
"She did," he said.
Dracolthar spoke up from behind us, his voice carrying that same enthusiastic tone.
"She did because she was eating them," he said.
"...What?"
I looked between the two demons.
Zorathys sighed and shook his head.
"That too."
Brixton nodded as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
"Stone Demons eat them sometimes."
Azerion’s eyes lit up.
"Are they sweet?" he asked.
"To my kind, yes," Brixton said thoughtfully. "But it’s only sweet to Stone Demons. I can’t say for other demons. Though if you want to try it, I’ll give you one later."
Azerion nodded, satisfied.
Just then, footsteps echoed through the hall.
I turned toward the sound, and Zorathys spoke up.
"The Duke has arrived," he said.
A massive figure appeared from the corridor, flanked by several soldiers. The demon was tall and broad-shouldered, massive in a way that made even the space around him seem smaller.
His reddish-brown hair looked like it had been cut in anger—uneven and jagged, as though scissors had feared him and fled. It fell messily over a stern brow that was permanently etched into a deep scowl.
His shoulders were immense beneath a fitted armored vest of dark stone-gray metal, engraved with faint runic markings that caught the light.
His arms were bare from shoulder to wrist, thick with muscle, veins prominent beneath bronze-toned skin, and heavy bracers wrapped his forearms, etched with the same runic lines.
Dark trousers were tucked into reinforced boots that looked capable of crushing bone without effort.
He stepped forward, his movements not graceful or fluid, but heavy and purposeful. Once more, I was shocked by how huge this demon was.
He really did fit the Duke of the Golemhold Territory.
He stopped at a respectful distance and bowed, though it wasn’t graceful. I suspected this demon did not have an elegant or graceful bone in his body.
He was all jagged edges.
"Your Majesties," he said, his voice deep and rough-edged, like stone grinding against stone.
I noticed he was sweating.
I could see the nervousness radiating from him despite his imposing appearance. His eyes darted between Zorathys and me, and he swallowed visibly.
Brixton rushed forward, his small body colliding with his father’s legs.
Draven placed a hand on the child’s head, his stone fingers surprisingly gentle as he ruffled Brixton’s hair.
Draven looked up at Zorathys nervously, his permanent scowl somehow deepening.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "I thought you would be going on an outing."
He paused, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm.
"Did Brixton offend you?" he asked quickly, his voice rising slightly. "Or perhaps something happened with Brixton? Is he okay?"
He turned to his son, his hands moving to the child’s shoulders, his huge fingers surprisingly gentle as he checked for injuries that weren’t there.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his gruff voice softening unexpectedly. "Do you feel feverish? Are you sick?"
He placed a hand over Brixton’s forehead, his massive form almost trembling with concern.
I watched the exchange, and I felt something shift in my chest.
I was quite shocked at seeing just how Draven interacted with his child.
Here was a demon who looked like he could crush boulders with his bare hands, a demon whose default expression was a scowl so permanent it looked carved into stone, and yet he was so careful, so concerned, so utterly devoted to the small demon in front of him.
The love was palpable, radiating from every gesture, every word, every worried glance.
It was quite soft and endearing to see how much the man loved and cared for his son.
I stepped forward, my voice gentle.
"We are on the outing," I said. "Brixton isn’t sick. I was curious about the Golemhold Territory, so we came to explore."
I paused, glancing at Zorathys.
"But for some reason, Zorathys brought us to the castle first."
Zorathys shrugged lazily.
"One can’t begin exploring a territory without letting the lord know," he said. "It’s called courtesy."
Draven heaved a sigh of relief so deep it seemed to come from somewhere in the earth itself.
"Thank the realm," he muttered. "I’m glad Brixton is okay."
Brixton looked up at his father, his ears still slightly red.
"Can I show them around?" he asked.