Help! Five Beast Alphas Want To Breed Me!!(BL)-Chapter 214: The Thirst Of War

Zethar;

The corridors of Nagari’s inner palace are quiet at this hour... too quiet for a kingdom that prides itself on order wrapped in violence.

On the outside, we look like a pristine, peaceful kingdom. But in truth?

We are vicious. Ruthless killers with cruelty wove so masterfully into our veins that it’s second nature.

The only good thing to others is that we know how to hide our fangs... except when provoked.

The silence of the corridor is broken by my robe sweeping against the ground as I make my way through the stone pullers with serpents carved spiralling around them.

Home... this place ought to hold warmth, but there’s this agitating heaviness being in this place brings. My footsteps echo against the polished stone floor as I move. Each step is soft and deliberate. The sound is almost therapeutic.

I don’t rush. I never rush. People who rush give away too much: fear, eagerness, desperation.

I am none of those... I think the part of me that feels that died with my mother on the day I was born.

Aunt Selthía’s study sits at the far end of the southern wing, guarded not by soldiers but by a pair of carved stone Nagari serpents. Their ruby eyes glow faintly with enchantment.

As I walk past them, they tilt their heads to watch. They recognise the Royal blood in me, so they don’t try to stop me.

I push the tall doors of my aunt’s study open without waiting for permission.

The first thing I’m welcomed by is that massive painting on the wall opposite the door.

The painting of two women who are spitting images of each other. The only difference between them is their eyes. One has blue eyes, and the other, golden eyes. Every other thing is exactly the same. Same hair, same height, same smile... not a single hair different.

The woman with blue eyes is Zephan’s and my mother. The other is our aunt. Aunty Selthía.

The woman sitting behind a massive desk, right in front of the painting.

I stare at the woman whose pen keeps moving swiftly across different documents as if someone didn’t just walk in.

Her expression is unreadable, cold in a way that isn’t cruel... but distant. Always distant.

This woman loves her space... and I love it too.

"Good morning, Auntie," I greet with a smirk crawling onto my face, even though the sun is bright at its peak.

"Or afternoon. Whichever reality you’ve convinced yourself we’re in." I add, and only then does she lift her gaze.

The look she gives me could freeze lava mid-flow. The same look she always gives to any and everything around her.

"Zethar." She calls. A single word. No warmth, no irritation. Just... acknowledgement.

I place a hand over my heart dramatically.

"Ah. Full name. I must be in trouble." I tease, but she doesn’t react to my antics. I’ve always tried to break through her, and she’s never given me that privilege.

She returns her gaze to her documents, and I let out a breath.

I look back up at the painting, and I feel something twist in my chest. I quickly look away and walk further into the room.

I drag my fingers across the table of relics she keeps... bone carvings, enchanted inks, old battle journals from her youth, and many more things she must have added over the years. Every object feels like it might bite if I linger too long.

Aunt Selthía continues signing something, her brows tightening slightly.

"If you came here to disrupt my work..." She begins, but I cut in.

"I came to talk. Which I know is worse. But you’ll survive." I speak, and her pen stops mid-stroke.

My aunt does not sigh. She is too controlled for that. But the tiny pause in her breathing gives her away.

"I’m not in the mood," she says quietly, and I smile as I fold my arms behind me.

"But I am," I reply, and she stares at me in silence... her golden eyes studying me.

"I’m always in a mood, Auntie." I grin. "Just depends... which," I add, and her lips twitch.

Not quite a smile. Selthía does not smile often, but she has expressions that pretend to be smiles when she thinks no one notices.

I always notice.

I move over to and lean on the corner of her desk, ignoring the way her eyes narrow at the intrusion.

.

"Gravemaw was attacked last night," I state, and she looks away from me

"I heard." She replies as her eyes return to her papers.

"The reports arrived at dawn." She adds, and I tilt my head.

"Hmm... And do those reports mention why? Or who the target was?" I question, and her pen pauses again.

"Gravemaw is an important territory. Your Father adores its queen and people," she says, and I listen silently.

"Anyone after power would want to destabilise it." She adds, and I chuckle.

"Ah, Auntie. Don’t play politics with me. It doesn’t suit you. We both know you know what they were truly after." I speak, and her gaze sharpens as she looks up at me.

"They weren’t after Gravemaw," I say softly.

"They were after Elián. After the Ashfangs." I add, and Aunt Selthía’s hand freezes around the pen.

Only her eyes move...slowly, carefully... to meet mine.

"Elián." She says like she’s asking, and I nod.

"Our little, possibly pregnant Omega," I reply, and she blinks at me.

"The witches and warlocks for some reason want to hurt him, and my family in turn..." I repeat, and Aunt Selthía turns away from me.

"And now he is in our kingdom," She murmurs, and I smile.

"Yes," I reply as I tap her desk lightly.

"Which makes us their next target," I add, and Aunt Selthía sets her pen down.

I watch her, fascinated.

She doesn’t panic, doesn’t frown deeply, doesn’t gasp. She simply... stops. And in that stillness, she weighs possibilities, outcomes, casualties.

Aunt Selthía has always been frightening like that... calm, quiet, but sharper than any blade.

"You believe they will attack Nagari next?" she asks, and I’m stunned that she just asked... for my opinion.

"They didn’t come for Gravemaw’s land," I remind her.

"They came for our family. Our Omega. They weren’t able to get him there, so where will they turn?" I whisper, and her gaze lowers.

"To him," I continue.

"To us."

Silence stretches between us, heavy as storm air, and finally, she speaks.

"The thirst for blood is a dangerous addiction, Zethar." She says, and she looks up at me, and my lips curl.

"And yet..." I straighten as I get off her table.

"I’m always thirsty," I reply, and her eyes flicker... annoyance, warning, maybe reluctant amusement even... but I am not joking.

The thirst to kill has been a darkness that has polluted my bloodstream do as long a so can remember.

"The witches and warlocks won’t stop, Auntie," I tell her as I lean against her table.

"War is coming. Maybe not this week. Maybe not this month. But it will come. And we need to be ready." I add, and she raises a brow.

"You speak as though you want this war." She notes, and I smile once again.

"I don’t want it." I shrug.

"I accept it. And I refuse to let Nagari be caught sleeping. It’s better to drink blood than to spill ours." I note, and her jaw shifts, subtle tension forming at the hinge.

"You’re reckless," she murmurs.

"I’m prepared."

"You’re impulsive."

"I’m aware."

"You lack restraint." She stamps, and I grin wider.

"Yes. Restraint is a limitation my being doesn’t know." I reply, and Aunt Selthía pushes her chair back and stands.

Her robes fall around her like mist. She moves to the carved stone map embedded in the floor... Nagari in the west, massive and apart from the other kingdoms, like the beautiful danger it is.

"The council won’t approve military preparation without proof," she says.

"They don’t need proof." I step beside her.

"They need fear." 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"Zethar..."

"Auntie." I lower my voice.

"This is how they operate. Witches and warlocks do not strike openly. They whisper, sink, corrode. By the time we see them...it’s too late." I speak, and her fingers

"Zethar," she says quietly.

"I know what fear feels like. This is not it." She adds, watching me closely, and I grin.

"No. What I feel isn’t fear. It’s excitement." I reply, and she stares at me in stunned silence, but I don’t care.

I was born with darkness in me, and I’m not ashamed of it.

"I will discuss this with the council," she finally says.

"Good," I reply as I tap her shoulder lightly. She hates that.

"I’ll be there. Obviously." I add, and she pauses.

"You’re not invited."

"That never stopped me."

Before she can retort, I turn to leave. However, before reaching the door, I pause.

Something prods at me...not sentiment, not softness... just a flicker of something I refuse to name.

I look back at her. At the woman who has my mother’s face but has never looked at me like a mother would look at her child.

"Good to see you again, Auntie," I whisper. Her eyes widen a bit, and then they... soften.

Before she can respond, I slip out, closing the door gently behind me.

As I take in the clean, soft air, my thoughts wander.

Nagari feels peaceful.

I hate it.

Because peace, in my experience, is simply the moment before the knife sinks in...

We have to be prepared!!