Chapter 322: The Shadows That Became Snacks and the Conversation That Wasn’t Over
Chapter 322: The Shadows That Became Snacks and the Conversation That Wasn’t Over
Elyn’s POV
Even after all his argument and reluctance, Zorathys’s shadows still picked Azerion up.
I watched as the dark tendrils curled around the small demon, lifting him gently into the air. Azerion’s eyes widened in surprise — he had been so determined to pretend he didn’t want to join the others, so stubborn in his refusal to admit that he wanted to be part of the fun — but the moment the shadows lifted him, his expression shifted. His arms uncrossed. His body relaxed. And he floated up to join the others without another word of protest.
The children had the time of their lives.
They giggled and squealed as the shadows carried them around the room, lifting them higher and letting them drift like leaves on a gentle current. Their small bodies twisted and turned, their voices rising in overlapping shouts of excitement. Velira’s wings fluttered with delight. Retheris and Thalira reached out to each other, their fingers brushing against the darkness. Brixton’s smile was wider than I had ever seen it. Zayrion’s tails swayed with contentment.
And Aziren’s flames danced brighter than ever, his laughter filling the office.
I smiled at the sight.
The shadows, I noticed, were not just carrying them. They were playing with them.
One of the shadows shaped itself into a snack — a small, round pastry that looked almost exactly like the ones Azerion had been stuffing into his pockets earlier. Azerion’s eyes widened in surprise, and he reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against the shadow.
He was expecting it to dissolve.
Instead, the shadow pastry stayed solid.
His mouth fell open in wonder.
Aziren’s voice rang out from across the room, his flames jumping with excitement.
"Do fire!" he called. "Can you do fire?"
The shadows obliged.
They shifted and twisted, dark tendrils curling into the shape of flames. The fire was black, a deep, endless darkness. It even moved like fire, swaying and leaping as if caught in an invisible wind. The children clapped and cheered, their voices rising in delight.
Brixton’s voice came next, more thoughtful than the others.
"A mountain," he said. "Can you make a mountain?"
The shadows rose.
They grew upward, twisting and coiling into the shape of a mountain — jagged peaks, sloping sides, dark crevices that seemed to hold endless depth. The mountain rose higher and higher, stretching toward the ceiling until it seemed to brush against the very top of the room. The children gasped, their eyes wide, their hands reaching out to touch the shadowy peaks.
I smiled as I watched them.
Then I turned to Zorathys.
He was glaring at the children.
His ruby eyes were fixed on the floating, laughing, squealing group, and his expression carried that familiar note of irritation that I had come to recognize. His shadows were having the time of their lives playing with the children, but Zorathys himself looked like he would rather be anywhere else.
"Stop glaring," I said.
Zorathys turned to look at me.
"I’m not glaring," he said.
"You are."
"I’m observing."
"With a glare."
"Observation requires focus," he said. "Focus sometimes looks like a glare."
I shook my head.
I turned back to the children for a moment, then noticed Aquaria and the other officers were still in the office. They had been standing in the corner, watching the chaos unfold with wide eyes and open mouths. Aquaria’s water had stopped dripping, and she was staring at the floating children with an expression that was somewhere between awe and disbelief.
She stepped forward, bowing deeply.
"I’m so sorry, Your Majesty," she said, her voice carrying a note of genuine apology. "I didn’t know. I should have—"
I waved a hand.
"Don’t worry about it," I said. "I know you were just doing your job."
Aquaria blinked.
"You’re not angry?" she asked.
"I’m not angry," I said. "You were following protocols. You were doing what you were supposed to do. I can’t fault you for that."
Aquaria stared at me for a long moment, her eyes wide.
Then she bowed again, deeper this time.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," she whispered.
Zorathys sighed beside me.
"Can we leave now?" he asked, his voice carrying that familiar lazy drawl. "I’m tired."
I looked at him.
"Fine," I said. "We can leave."
The moment the words left my mouth, the world shifted.
I blinked.
And when I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the Law and Order Station. I was standing in the familiar corridors of the palace, the soft glow of lanterns casting warm light across the stone walls. The air was quiet and still, and the only sound was the distant hum of the castle settling around us.
I turned, searching for the children, and noticed they were gone.
"Where are they?" I asked.
"Who?" Zorathys asked me, pretending not to know what I was asking him about.
"The children, where are they?"
He yawned.
"I dropped them at their homes," he said. "They’re with their parents."
I stared at him.
"You dropped them off?" I repeated.
"Yes."
"All of them?"
"Yes."
"Even Azerion?"
He made a face.
"Even the snake," he said. "I placed him in his bedroom."
I studied him for a moment, searching for any sign that he was lying. His expression was calm, his eyes half-lidded, his shadows still and quiet around him.
"You’re telling me the truth?" I asked.
Zorathys nodded.
"I may not like them," he said, "but I would never hurt them. They’re at their homes. With their parents."
I exhaled slowly.
"Alright," I said.
Zorathys yawned again.
He really thought that was the end. He really thought everything had been resolved, that we could move on, that he could finally go find a corner and sleep.
But he was wrong.
Because I wasn’t done with him.
"Zorathys," I said, my voice calm.
He paused mid-yawn, his hand still raised to his mouth.
"Yes, Firefly?" he asked.
"I want you to explain something to me," I said. "You said you had an emergency. A very serious emergency. That’s why you left me alone with the children for hours."
Zorathys blinked.
"I thought that discussion was over," he said.
I looked at him.
"Did I tell you it was over?" I asked.
His eyes widened slightly.
"No," he said slowly. "You didn’t."
"Then you have some explaining to do," I said. "What pet caused you to leave me alone?"