Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

Chapter 259: Betrayal 3

"Take her to the dungeons," Ken commanded, his tone calm but heavy with finality. "Bind her with celestial restraints and ensure she is guarded day and night. No one goes near her without my order."

The soldiers obeyed instantly, stepping forward in rigid formation. Two of the ascendant ranked cultivators descended beside the fallen Empress, their expressions impassive. One of them lifted her gently but firmly by the arm, the other reinforcing the binding aura that already surrounded her.

Khan stood aside, his face pale and conflicted. His eyes flickered between his mother and the Celestial leader, and then down to the ground. The faint tremor in his hand betrayed the storm within him, but he did not speak. He dared not. The Empress’s gaze found him through the curtain of her veil, filled with disbelief, sorrow, and the faintest trace of yearning...as though even now she still hoped to see her son awaken from this nightmare. But Khan averted his eyes.

The once proud Empress of Lechia was now a prisoner in her own palace, stripped of her divine might and surrounded by enemies.

When they reached the lower dungeons, the guards opened the iron gate. The damp, musty air carried the scent of rust and despair. The cells stretched endlessly into the shadows, each one filled with the faint outlines of broken people...the remnants of what had once been Lechia’s proud heart.

As the Empress was brought in, murmurs spread through the dim corridors. Figures stirred in the cells, their faces gaunt and weary, eyes widening in disbelief. Among them were advisors, generals, scholars, and inner court members...all loyal to the crown, all imprisoned for refusing to bend to the will of the usurpers.

Then, from one of the cells, a familiar voice trembled through the gloom. "Your Majesty..."

The Empress turned her head weakly toward the sound. It was the royal counselor... his robes torn and dirt-stained. He stumbled forward, clutching the bars of his cell, tears pooling in his tired eyes. "You live... by the heavens, you live." His voice cracked as he spoke. "We thought... we thought they had slain you."

The Empress opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Her throat was dry, her chest heavy with grief. She could only lower her gaze, her body trembling with the weight of everything she had lost.

Ken’s men unlocked a cell at the far end of the corridor and roughly pulled the door open. One of them stepped forward and clasped a gleaming ring of silver and gold around her neck. The metal glowed faintly as divine runes lit up across its surface...a celestial binding ring, meant to strip any cultivator of their power and sever their link to the heavens. The instant it sealed, the Empress gasped softly, feeling her energy drain from her body like sand slipping through her fingers. Her divine aura vanished completely, leaving her weaker than even a mortal woman.

The guards stepped back, satisfied with their work. "She’s secured," one of them said.

Ken gave a nod from the stairway above. "Good. She remains here until I decide otherwise. Double the sentries and reinforce the wards. I will not have any interruptions."

"Yes, my lord," they answered in unison.

With that, the Celestial leader turned and ascended the steps, his robes trailing behind him as the iron doors clanged shut once more. The dungeon returned to its dreadful quiet.

The counselor watched in silence as the Empress slowly sank to the cold floor of her cell. His heart broke to see her like this...the woman who had once stood above all, radiant and unyielding, now reduced to a shadow of herself. "Your Majesty... please do not lose hope," he whispered through the bars, his voice trembling. "Lechia still breathes, even if faintly. We are still here."

But the Empress said nothing.

She turned away from him and slowly shifted toward the dark corner of her cell. Her veil hung loosely, dampened by tears she no longer tried to hide. Shame and sorrow clung to her like chains. She could not bring herself to meet the eyes of those who had once looked up to her. She had failed them.

She had seen through generals and courtiers, had unmasked conspiracies, and had survived the venom of countless political vipers. Yet, when it came to her own son...the child she had carried, nurtured, and loved beyond measure...her heart had blinded her completely. She had mistaken his distance for pride, his silence for discipline, and his secrecy for strength. In truth, it had all been deceit.

Her mind replayed the look in Khan’s eyes as he had thrown the orb at her. That brief hesitation, that flicker of guilt, and yet... he had done it. He had chosen them. He had chosen the rot over his own mother.

A tremor coursed through her body as she pressed her palms into the cold stone beneath her. Tears gathered again, falling silently down her cheeks. Her shoulders quivered, but she made no sound. There was no strength left in her to wail or curse. Only that hollow ache deep within her chest.

Across the cell block, the counselor, weakened and frail, leaned forward and called out softly, his voice breaking through the heavy air.

"Your Majesty..." he whispered. "Please, do not lose yourself in despair. This is not your fault."

The Empress did not respond. She remained motionless, her head bowed, her fingers trembling slightly against the stone floor.

The counselor tried again, louder this time, desperation creeping into his tone. "Your Majesty, please, hear me. Lechia still..."

A sharp thud silenced him mid-sentence. One of the guards, irritated by his persistence, had slammed his staff hard against the iron bars of the counselor’s cell. The metallic clang echoed through the dungeon like thunder, followed by the guard’s harsh voice.

"Silence, old man," he barked. "No one speaks here unless ordered to. Another word, and I’ll make sure you forget how to speak entirely."

The counselor stumbled back, clutching his arm where the blow had grazed him. His breathing was heavy, but he said nothing more. The guard glared at him for a few seconds before turning away, his armor clinking as he resumed his post.

All around, the prisoners shrank deeper into the shadows, unwilling to provoke further wrath.

The counselor leaned weakly against the bars, his heart aching for the woman across from him. "Your Majesty..." he murmured again, this time too softly for the guards to hear. "You must endure... for Lechia... for those who still believe in you."

But the Empress didn’t stir. She remained huddled in the corner, her back pressed against the wall, her hands trembling as they clutched the fabric of her gown.

Her love for Khan had blinded her so completely that she had never even imagined this day could come. Now, stripped of her power, her pride, and the kingdom she once ruled, she sat in the darkness...broken, silent, and alone...while the world above her slowly began to rot.

Space distorted and the innkeeper, who had been polishing a cup behind the counter, froze where he stood. His hands trembled slightly as he looked up, eyes widening in disbelief. He recognized the young man immediately...the same one who had once fought that arrogant merchant in this very place.

He wasn’t alone. Standing beside him were the girls, his gaze fell upon Seraphine, and his mouth fell open as if words had failed him.

"Empress’s Diva?" he stammered under his breath, stepping back a little. "What in the heavens..."

Seraphine’s face was pale, her expression darkened with a mixture of anger and disbelief. Nyx’s sharp eyes darted around the room, assessing their surroundings. Selene, though composed, looked visibly shaken, her gaze falling on Lucas, who stood hunched, breathing heavily.

Lucas’s hands trembled as he tried to steady himself on the edge of a table. His chest heaved, and before anyone could reach him, he coughed violently, thick streaks of blood staining his lips and dripping onto the floorboards. His aura flickered erratically, the flow of Qi inside him clashing in wild disarray. The strain of bending space across such a distance had torn at his meridians and dantian like invisible blades.

"Xavier!" Selene cried, rushing forward.

He waved her off weakly, trying to speak but barely managing a breath before another surge of pain forced him to his knees. Nyx caught him by the shoulders and eased him down onto a nearby chair. "He’s bleeding internally," she muttered, her tone calm but her eyes tight with concern. "He pushed his Qi too far."

"Quickly," the innkeeper said, his instincts overriding his fear. "Bring him to the back...there’s a bed there. I’ll fetch warm cloth and water." He darted away, his steps hurried but steady.

They carried Lucas into the small chamber behind the counter. The bed there was plain and old, but it would do. As Nyx helped him lie down, Lucas’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his breathing ragged. Seraphine stood at the edge of the bed, her fists trembling at her sides. The fury in her voice cracked the silence.

"You left her," she hissed, glaring at him. "You left the Empress there! How could you leave her?"

"Seraphine..." Selene began, but Seraphine’s voice rose over hers, sharp and cutting.

"You could have reached her! You had enough strength to save us, so why not her?"