The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 495: A son

The corridors felt as though they were stretching, an impossible geometry of lengthening shadows and endless doorways.

Every turn she took felt like a gamble she was losing. Terror, cold and sharp as an icicle, wedged itself beneath her ribs.

What if she was already too late? What if the scratching she had heard wasn’t just a premonition, but a memory in the making?

She refused to think it. She slammed the door on the image of a broken nursery, focusing instead on the singular, golden point of Rael’s face.

Behind her, the palace continued to die. The roar of the serpent, the thunder of Soren’s desperate ice, and the crashing of masonry formed a distant, horrific symphony.

She saw maids huddled in alcoves, weeping into their hands, and nobles stumbling over their own finery in a blind quest for shelter. She didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She had tunnel vision, a narrow, burning path that led only to her son.

Her heart wasn’t just pounding; it was thrashing against her chest wall, driven by a maternal panic that made the humming of the seal feel like a distant annoyance.

Pyronox was restless, his ancient, predatory instincts snarling at the scent of the Syvrak pack, but Eris ignored him.

She ignored the warning heat in her marrow. She ignored the danger to her own life. In the hierarchy of her soul, Rael was the only sovereign.

She rounded a sharp corner, her shoulder clipping a bust of some long-dead Emperor, and nearly collided with a wall of plate armor.

"Your Majesty!"

Ryse caught her by the shoulders, his grip firm and steadying. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

The Commander looked as though he had stepped out of a siege, his armor was soot-stained, and his cape was frayed at the edges. He was currently ushering a group of terrified scribes toward the lower servants’ tunnels.

"You can’t be out here alone," Ryse insisted, his hand moving to intercept her path, shifting into a protective stance. His intent was clear: protocol dictated that the Empress be moved to the secure chambers immediately. "The palace is compromised. There are creatures in the walls. Let me escort you to the bunkers."

"No!" Eris cried, trying to wrench herself free. Her eyes were wild, her hair escaping its pins in a dark, tangled cloud. She wasn’t an Empress in that moment; she was a wounded animal. "I have to find my son. I have to find Rael!"

The raw, breaking quality of her voice stopped Ryse mid-sentence. He looked at her—really looked at her—and the commander died away, replaced by the man who understood the weight of a life.

"He’s in the east wing," she choked out, her hand clutching Ryse’s forearm. "With Mira. I have to—" She couldn’t finish. The thought of the word dead or gone stuck in her throat like a piece of glass.

Ryse didn’t hesitate. He didn’t ask for permission or consult the manual of imperial safety. He stepped beside her, his sword singing as it left its scabbard. "Then I’ll come with you," he said, his voice a low, steady anchor. "Lead the way."

A flash of relief washed over Eris, so potent it nearly brought her to her knees. She didn’t waste time with thanks. She began to run again, Ryse matching her stride with ease.

They moved as a unit through the wreckage, past tapestries that had been torn by claws and bodies of guards who had died trying to hold back the tide.

Ryse scanned every shadow, his blade ready, while Eris kept the fire in her hands barely contained, a golden-white glow that illuminated the gathering gloom.

They reached the residential section of the wing, where the ceilings were lower and the atmosphere more intimate. This was the family quarter, the guest suite given to Caelen during his stay. It was a place of privacy, now violated by the tremor of war.

"There!" Eris gasped.

At the far end of the hall, a figure emerged from a side room. It was Mira. The girl was pale, her face streaked with tears, but she was moving with a desperate, focused speed. In her arms, she held a bundle of blankets and limbs so tightly it looked as though she were trying to merge her body with his.

Rael was clinging to her, his small face buried in the crook of her neck. Even from this distance, Eris could hear the high, thin sound of his sobbing.

"Daddy!" the boy wailed, the word muffled by Mira’s shoulder. "Where’s daddy? Mama!"

Mira was murmuring to him, her own voice shaking as she tried to navigate the debris-strewn hallway. "Shh, it’s okay, little hawk. We’ll find him. We’re going to find them."

"Mira!" Eris screamed.

The girl’s head snapped up. Relief flooded Mira’s face, a physical transformation that saw her shoulders drop an inch even as she kept her grip on the child.

Eris didn’t just run; she launched herself across the remaining distance.

Ryse was at Mira’s side in a heartbeat, his hand resting gently on her arm. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice losing its professional edge for a fleeting, tender second.

He checked her for blood, his eyes roaming over her with a fierce, personal concern that spoke of a connection forged in the quiet hours of the palace.

"I’m fine," Mira whispered, her eyes locked on Eris. "He’s fine. We just... the ground started shaking, and the door broke..."

"Give him to me," Eris demanded, her arms outstretched and trembling.

Mira carefully transferred the boy. As Rael felt the change in hands, he looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and wide with terror.

"Mama!"

The cry was a spear to Eris’s heart. She pulled him against her chest with a strength that was almost crushing, burying her face in his hair. He smelled of lavender and sleep and the metallic tang of fear.

"I’ve got you," she whispered, her voice a jagged sob of relief. "I’ve got you, Rael. I’m never letting go. Never."

She rained kisses on his forehead, his tear-stained cheeks, and his small, shaking hands.

She held him as if she could pull him back inside her, back to the only place where he would truly be safe from the monsters and the fire.

For that one, suspended moment, the empire could burn, the Syvrak could howl, and the world could end. She had her son.