Breeder Of The Infernal Highness

His Claims

Alyssa POV

“No, we had an agreement—you were to take me instead of them,” I said, confronting the man before me as his guards dragged Elaria toward the portal.

He caught my wrist before I could reach her, pulling me in as well. “The bargain was for the man you couldn’t bear to sacrifice,” he said, his tone edged with amusement. “Not that I would’ve accepted otherwise.” His smirk made my stomach twist.

When we crossed through the portal, I landed hard on the cold ground. Darkness surrounded us—thick, endless. The air was heavy, and the silence pressed against my chest. I knew then that I was far from home… far from Damian.

“Elaria!” I called out, searching blindly. “Elaria!” My voice echoed, panic rising.

“I’m here,” she answered faintly. I followed her voice through the darkness until I found her, helping her to her feet.

The ground beneath us was smooth as glass, yet faintly warm, pulsing with a strange energy that made my skin prickle. A faint hum filled the air, almost like the world itself was breathing. I turned in every direction, but there was no sky, no horizon—only the whispering dark, thick like mist and moving as though alive.

Then, from the distance, light began to bloom—a golden glow shrouded in black. It wasn’t what I expected of hell. No flames. No chains. No screams. Just a haunting silence and that strange, shifting light.

We walked endlessly toward it, the sound of our footsteps swallowed by the void. Shadows stretched and curled along our path, sometimes forming shapes—hands, faces, echoes of lost souls. Elaria clung to my arm once, her usual bravado faltering. I squeezed her hand silently, neither of us daring to speak.

“You’re supposed to be the right-hand man,” Elaria muttered after a while, glaring at Lucien, who walked ahead with casual grace. “And yet, here you are walking like us. You’re a fraud.”

I quickly motioned for her to stop, but Lucien merely shot her a sidelong glance and kept walking, silent and composed, his expression unreadable. The dark coat he wore moved like liquid shadow, catching faint light from the strange glow ahead.

As we neared the light, two figures emerged on horseback, their armor gleaming like molten obsidian streaked with gold. They pulled a carriage forged from dark crystal, the wheels grinding softly against the ground as if the world itself yielded beneath it. The horses were unlike any creatures I had ever seen — black as night with manes of fire and eyes like stars trapped in glass.

Their movements were graceful, their presence commanding. When they reached us, they dismounted in perfect unison, bowing low.

“Welcome, Lord Lucien,” they greeted together, their voices echoing faintly, layered as though a thousand shadows spoke through them.

Lucien gave a slight nod, his gaze flicking to Elaria with unsettling satisfaction before stepping into the carriage. The men gestured for us to follow.

Inside, the carriage exuded dark luxury. The seats and long chaise were upholstered in deep crimson velvet—soft, yet chilling to the touch. Golden embroidery traced along the edges, and the polished obsidian floor was veined with molten gold that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat.

Above, the midnight ceiling shimmered with tiny, flickering lights like stars trapped in glass. Black marble tables with gold inlays held crystal decanters filled with dark, shimmering liquid, while lanterns of black and gold cast living shadows across the walls. The faint scent of smoke and sweet spice lingered in the air, mingling with something older—something unearthly. Every detail whispered wealth, power—and danger.

As the carriage began moving toward the light, Lucien finally spoke.

“Your task here is to bear the royal heirs,” he said, eyes fixed on me, his tone devoid of any warmth.

Elaria crossed her arms, her defiance unshaken even in the face of damnation. “Majesty doesn’t have women in his palace?” she muttered under her breath—but loud enough for him to hear.

Lucien’s cold stare silenced her. In a blink, he was beside her, his presence suffocating. “If another word escapes your mouth, I’ll kill you,” he whispered, voice dangerously calm. Then, just as swiftly, he was back in his seat, expression serene—as if he’d never moved.

The air grew heavier. My pulse thundered in my ears. I reached for Elaria’s hand beneath the folds of my dress and squeezed it, a silent plea for restraint.

“Your job,” Lucien repeated, his gaze distant, “is to give birth to his majesty’s children. Nothing more.”

Elaria turned away, her jaw set, refusing to let him see her fear. I wanted to ask what he meant—what kind of king needed women like this—but the words lodged in my throat.

Outside, the view shifted. Through the tinted glass, I could see faint outlines of a kingdom bathed in golden firelight. Mountains of black crystal stretched toward a stormy sky, rivers of molten gold snaked between them, and colossal statues stood guard at the city gates—each one depicting a crowned figure with wings of flame. It was terrible and beautiful all at once.

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Vesperion’s POV

I wondered how long it would take Lucien to return when a knock sounded on my chamber door.

“Come in,” I said.

A young squire entered, head bowed. “Your Majesty, Lord Lucien has been sighted at the royal back gate.”

“You’re dismissed.”

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The back gate loomed tall—black iron laced with faint gold and softly glowing runes. Guards in dark armor stood motionless on either side, their helmets shaped like fanged beasts. When they moved, their armor sang—a deep, resonant hum that carried through the air like the growl of something ancient.

The palace beyond rose proudly beneath the sun, its obsidian walls streaked with gold veins that shimmered like fire trapped beneath glass. Towers pierced the sky, their spires glowing faintly red at the tips. Gargoyles of molten stone perched on the corners, their eyes flickering with embers.

Guards patrolled the courtyards in synchronized precision, while maids hurried along stone paths lined with glowing sigils, careful not to draw attention from the sentinels. Every inch of the place spoke of power—and the kind of silence born from fear.

The carriage halted before towering obsidian doors carved with golden runes and sealed by ornate brass handles that pulsed with a faint inner light.

Lucien stepped out first. Elaria and I followed him inside.

The palace interior was breathtaking. The obsidian floors shimmered with molten gold veins, walls etched with scenes of fire and conquest. Amber lanterns flickered along high arches, casting molten light across crimson tapestries that depicted winged rulers and fallen angels. Statues of long-dead kings lined the corridors, each one carved in exquisite detail, eyes gleaming with faint life as if they were watching us pass.

A man dressed in a black coat trimmed with gold approached. “His Highness awaits you in his private study,” he said.

Lucien gestured for us to follow. The narrow corridor led to a massive dark-wood door reinforced with iron and carved with ancient runes that thrummed softly like a heartbeat.

Before Lucien could knock, a calm yet commanding voice called, “Enter.”

Lucien smirked and opened the door.

The royal study was rich and somber—dark wood, crimson drapes, and shelves packed with ancient books. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, glinting off the obsidian floor’s golden veins. At the center stood a desk scattered with scrolls and quills.

But my eyes fixed on the man standing by the shelves, back turned.

He wore black—simple but regal. The robe framed his broad shoulders, his posture straight and unwavering. His presence filled the room, quiet but immense, like gravity itself bowed to him.

Lucien approached, speaking in low tones I couldn’t catch. The man finally turned.

His face was cold and pale, his features sharp and refined. Crimson eyes burned beneath dark lashes, and his lips—deep red—contrasted against his skin. His gaze was steady, piercing, and suffocating.

“I don’t recall asking for two humans,” he said, voice calm but edged with disdain.

“One is for you,” Lucien replied easily. “The other—for me. Choose whichever you want.”

“We belong to no one,” I muttered, barely audible.

His gaze snapped to me. “I’ll take her,” he said, his voice final.

Lucien nodded, then motioned for Elaria to follow him out. She hesitated but obeyed, leaving me alone with the man.

“Are you afraid?” he asked without looking up from the book in his hand, his tone low and knowing.

“N-No… I’m not,” I stammered.

“Good,” he said, still reading. “You shouldn’t be. I won’t harm you—nor will I allow anyone else to. Not until I have what I want.” His crimson eyes lifted, locking onto mine.

“You belong to me now.”