Serpent Emperor's Bride-Chapter 22: The Sirrash Awakens in the Capital

[The Capital City of Zahryssar — Dawn Breaks — The High Fountain Square]

Morning light had only just begun to spill across Sarythran, the capital of Zahryssar.

Shops had not opened yet. Merchants had only begun to lift their shutters. Mothers carried water jugs. Children tugged at their braided sashes.

Then—a scream broke the calm.

By the time the sun’s first ray touched the great fountain at the heart of the city, half of Sarythran had gathered—hesitant, whispering, fear curling like smoke through the crowd as someone yelled, "Someone inform the High Ensi."

***

[Later]

The high Ensi Rakhane arrived at a fast stride, parting the people with a single gesture of authority. He stepped forward and froze.

The breath left his lungs.

"...Urzan preserve us," he whispered.

Two great serpents lay draped over the rim of the fountain—emerald-scaled, long-bodied, lifeless—their coils slack, their throats torn open.

Blood diluted in the rushing water, turning the entire fountain a deep crimson.

Children were pulled closer to their mothers. Merchants covered their mouths. Older serpents bowed their heads in mourning.

Rakhane stepped nearer, voice low, shaken, "The green serpents..."

His captain stepped forward—a tall man with onyx hair tied in the Karzeth style, a scar tracing his jaw.

Captain Raevahn bowed his head. "Yes, Ensi. They were found before sunrise. Dragged—judging by the trail—from the western forest boundary."

Rakhane’s jaw tightened.

The green serpents were forest guardians— ancient, and deeply attuned to nature. They did not leave the forest. They did not cross into the city. They never approached human settlements.

For them to be carried here—

No.

For them to be killed at all—Rakhane’s stomach twisted.

"This was not the work of any human," he said slowly. "Nor black serpents..."

Raevahn exhaled, his hand tightening on the hilt of his blade. "It matches the bite... the venom burns around the wounds... the way the scales around the neck have curled..."

Rakhane’s voice dropped.

"...Sirrash."

A collective gasp swept the square. Someone whispered, trembling, "The heat-beast... here? In the capital?"

"The Sirrash only appear in deep summer!" another cried. "The season is wrong!"

Rakhane stepped closer to the bodies, expression tightening as he knelt. He touched the scales of one guardian serpent.

Still warm.

Which meant—"It happened recently, within the hour."

Raevahn nodded, face grim. "The forest sent no signal. No warning. It appears the Sirrash ambushed them swiftly... and retreated."

Rakhane rose to his full height, his eyes hardening into something sharp and commanding.

"Seal every street within three rings of the fountain," he ordered. "No one enters or leaves."

The sainiks thumped their fists to their chests and dispersed at once. Rakhane’s gaze turned toward the horizon, where the dunes shimmered gold in the rising light.

Two green guardians dead in the center of the capital.

Killed by a beast that should not yet exist.

He exhaled slowly, breath trembling with controlled fury, "I must report this to the Malik."

The crowd parted for him as he strode away—their whispers rising like dust.

"The Sirrash have come early..."

"...may Urzan protect us..."

"...if the guardians are dead, what chance do we have...?"

"...why now...?"

Rakhane didn’t look back and rushed towards the Imperial Palace.

***

[Silthara Palace — Bathing Chamber — Morning Mist]

Warm steam curled along the marble floor, drifting like pale silk across the carved pillars of the bathing chamber. The early sun filtered through veiled windows, softening the air into gold and quiet.

In the water, Levin rested against Zeramet’s chest—flushed and exhausted from the last night. The water lapped gently at their skin, scented faintly with desert lotus.

Zeramet’s arms were wrapped around him, steady and protective, his palm rubbing slow circles along Levin’s upper arm, "Are you feeling well now?"

Levin leaned into him, breath feathering against his skin. "Yes... though I feel a slight ache." 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Zeramet’s lips touched his hair—an unhurried kiss, warm and grounding, "A little pain is expected, but you did well, consort. Rest today. There is no need for you to attend court."

Levin breathed out, a small hum of contentment, his cheek brushing Zeramet’s collarbone. "No... I want to be present."

Zeramet’s hand stilled for a moment, then resumed stroking—firmer now, a possessive sweep down Levin’s arm before he pulled him a little closer, chin resting atop Levin’s head.

"As you wish," he said softly.

The peace held only a moment longer.

Then—

"Malik..." A voice echoed from just beyond the chamber door—an attendant, hesitant.

Zeramet’s eyes narrowed faintly. "Speak."

"The High Ensi requests Your Radiances’ audience. He says... the matter is urgent."

Zeramet’s gaze flicked down to Levin, who blinked up at him from the cradle of his arms, "What could require the High Ensi at dawn?"

Levin straightened slightly, water dripping from his shoulders as he brushed his hair back.

"Something serious must have happened."

Zeramet nodded once—slow and deliberate—before rising smoothly from the water, lifting Levin with him for a moment before letting him stand.

He wrapped a warm cloth around Levin’s shoulders himself—hands lingering a breath longer than necessary.

"Dry yourself," Zeramet said gently, brushing his thumb along Levin’s cheek. "I will only be a moment."

Levin placed his hand on his husband’s wrist, eyes calm but curious. "No. I will accompany you."

"As you wish."

He let his fingers trail through Levin’s hair one last time before they stepped away from the bath—water rippling behind them, heat from the night still clinging faintly to their skin, and the shadow of Rakhane’s "urgent" knocking waiting just beyond the door.

***

[Silthara Palace — Courtyard — Moments Later]

The morning sun had barely climbed the horizon when Zeramet and Levin stepped into the courtyard—its pale light spilling over polished stone, sharp and cold.

They were moving fast.

Too fast.

Levin—still drowsy, still aching from the night—didn’t realize his face veil was missing.

Rakhane stood waiting near one of the great serpent pillars. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he turned—and froze.

His breath hitched.

His crimson eyes widened, stunned—caught off guard, unguarded—because for the very first time...He saw Levin’s face.

The blue eyes.

The pale morning-soft skin.

The curve of lips flushed from sleep.

Levin blinked, confused by the way Rakhane stared—too long, too openly. Zeramet followed Rakhane’s gaze, and his expression hardened instantly.

Before Levin could speak—

"Consort!" Iru’s voice rang out as he rushed in, horror flashing across his face. "Your veil—!"

Levin’s heart lurched as he realized his Veil is missing. He turned away at once, shoulders tensing as panic flooded him.

’How could I forget—? How careless—?!’

But Rakhane was still staring and everything inside Zeramet snapped. A dark, cold aura rippled violently through the courtyard—and then—

GRAB!!!

Zeramet’s hand clamped around Rakhane’s throat with lethal precision.

Rakhane choked—feet leaving the ground—eyes bulging as the Emperor’s pheromone poured over him like black lotus smoke, suffocating and absolute.

Zeramet’s voice dropped into a tyrant’s whisper—low, poisonous, ancient, "This is the second time, High Ensi."

His fingers tightened.

"The second time you’ve dared to set your eyes on my consort in a way that you should not."

Rakhane clawed weakly at Zeramet’s wrist. "I—apologize—Malik—I didn’t mean—"

Zeramet tightened his grip, expression carved from pure wrath. Behind them, Iru hurriedly lifted the veil and settled it over Levin’s face with trembling hands.

Zeramet’s voice sharpened, each word cutting like a drawn blade, "Veil or no veil—you lower your eyes the moment you stand in my consort’s presence. How dare you forget this law?"

Rakhane coughed violently, his knees shaking, "I... truly... apologize..."

Zeramet’s jaw flexed and then—THUD!!!

He threw Rakhane onto the ground—hard enough that the shock echoed across the courtyard.

Rakhane collapsed, coughing, clutching his chest.

Zeramet’s aura flared—dark, possessive, territorial—filling every corner of the courtyard until even the guards bowed their heads, trembling under the pressure.

"You will lower your eyes," Zeramet hissed, "No matter what."

Rakhane’s fists curled subtly—anger flickering—but he swallowed it down with iron control and bowed deeply, forehead touching the ground.

"I... apologize, Malik. I overstepped." His voice shook. "But... I am here for an urgent report."

Zeramet did not soften.

"Speak," he commanded.

Rakhane steadied himself, breathing raggedly. "There has been a Sirrash attack—inside the capital."

The words dropped like stones into still water.

Silence.

Cold.

Sharp.

Everyone’s eyes narrowed. Zeramet’s anger over Rakhane’s earlier transgression did not fade—it simmered beneath his skin like a coiled serpent ready to strike again. But the moment demanded a ruler, not a jealous husband.

His voice came low, measured, a king wearing fury like armor. "How many dead?"

Rakhane straightened, though his voice trembled. "For now... we have found two green serpents."

A stir rippled through the attendants.

Zeramet’s expression hardened. "Green serpents? In the city? They are guardians of the forest borders. They do not cross into urban territory."

Rakhane bowed his head deeper. "It appears they were dragged. Torn from the forest and brought into the city center by the Sirrash."

Levin inhaled sharply, his voice was quiet, "That means... the Sirrash is already inside the capital?"

Rakhane did not dare lift his gaze this time.

"Yes, Malika," he answered. "We have issued a red-zone alert. Citizens are ordered to remain indoors until the beast is located."

The courtyard throbbed with tension. Zeramet exhaled slowly—once. The sound was the warning before a storm breaks.

"Summon every Red Knight," he commanded, his tone slicing through the air. "No quarter of the city goes unchecked. Streets, roofs, canals, alleys—leave no shadow unsearched."

Rakhane bowed. "Yes, Malik."

Zeramet’s voice deepened, the full weight of an emperor descending.

"And I will hunt the Sirrash myself."

He stepped closer, his aura pulsing with lethal resolve.

"Until the beast is slain, and until Zahryssar is safe, you will track down who dared to awaken the Sirrash." His gaze sharpened, heavy as judgment. "Someone fed them. Find that someone."

Rakhane bowed to the ground. "It shall be done, Malik."

He rose, turned, and left—his footsteps brisk, vanishing into the corridors with the urgency of a man carrying a kingdom’s fear on his shoulders.

The moment he disappeared, silence returned—thicker than before.

Zeramet looked toward Levin. The veil shadowed the consort’s face, but nothing hid the lowered eyes, the tension in his shoulders, or the guilt coiling faintly beneath his ribs.

Because he had broken a rule—Zeramet’s rule.

Zeramet stepped toward him, slowly, deliberately, "Consort, look at me."

Levin hesitated... then lifted his gaze.

Zeramet exhaled softly, lifting a hand to ruffle Levin’s hair with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the violence he had displayed only minutes earlier.

"It is not your fault," he murmured. "The fault lies in the eyes that dare to lift their gaze where they should not. And if anyone looks upon you with intent that is not permitted—" his voice deepened, ancient and dangerous,

"—I will pluck those eyes from their skulls myself."

Levin’s chest eased, the tension loosening as a small sigh left him—quiet, relieved. But moments later, resolve returned to his gaze.

"What of the Sirrash?" he asked. "If they are already in the city..."

Zeramet’s expression sharpened.

"I will hunt the beast myself," he said. "We do not yet know how many have risen or where they hide. Zahryssar must be watched with open eyes. And we must be careful."

Levin stepped closer, voice calm but firm. "Then... I shall join the hunt."

Zeramet said, "I do not mind. If you wish to hunt with me... then come."

Levin’s own smile bloomed—small, but bright beneath the veil.

The Emperor extended a hand.

The Consort took it.

And with that single gesture, the tension of the courtyard gave way to a different kind of storm—purposeful, united, and lethal.

Side by side, they turned toward the inner halls—preparing to step into a city where a heat-born predator prowled the shadows.

The Serpent King and his Consort—walking into danger together for the first time.

The hunt had begun.