She ran toward the deeper side of the room. "Kelpie?!" Her heart thundered as she looked around desperately.
There was no trace of him. No sound. No tiny head poking through the waves.
Just as Alina took another step into the rising water, calling out with her heart in her throat—
"Kelpie?"
"Lucian?"
A chill swept through the air behind her.
It wasn't the cold of wet clothes or icy floors, It was the kind of cold that made the hair on her arms stand up. The kind that wrapped around your spine like invisible chains.
She froze.
Every nerve in her body stiffened as she felt a intimidating presence behind her.
And then—
"Miss Hart."
His voice was like a blade dragged across smooth stone, deep, cold, and terrifyingly quiet.
She slowly turned her head.
Dante Nightshade stood at the flooded doorway, water swirling gently around his boots as if it didn't dare touch him. His tall figure was as sharp and intimidating as ever, black coat swaying slightly with his aura. His obsidian horns gleamed in the dim light, and his eyes, those ancient, dark eyes narrowed on her like a predator assessing a fallen creature.
Alina's soaked dress clung to her legs, her hair stuck to her cheek, and her arms trembled slightly.
"I—" she tried to speak, but her voice came out too fast, too tight.
"I was… they were inside—someone flooded the room—Kelpie's still—"
"Enough," he said calmly. But his calmness was worse than yelling.
The air around him dropped in temperature, water around his ankles pulling back subtly as if obeying his presence. The babies were silent now, all eyes fixed on their principal. Even Boo drifted down from the chandelier with an awkward cough.
Dante's gaze didn't move from Alina. He hadn't even blinked.
Then the floodwater vanished suddenly.
It didn't drain or evaporate. It simply collapsed inward into a single glowing sphere, like the magic had been pulled from the air itself. And from the center of where the water once churned, a small figure emerged…dripping, shivering, and blinking with wide royal-blue eyes.
Kelpie.
His soft baby hair clung to his cheeks, his pale arms hugged himself tightly, and his little chest heaved with scared breaths. He stood barefoot in the middle of the soaked floor, trembling like a puddle under thunder.
Alina turned instantly. Relief and panic clashed in her chest.
But before she could reach him…
Dante moved.
The sound of his boots against the wet floor was slow and heavy, and every step seemed to weigh down the very air.
His aura was icy, ancient and impossible to ignore. Even the chandeliers above dimmed slightly, as though wary of shining too brightly.
He stopped just a few feet from Kelpie.
The little boy looked up at him, his eyes glassy, lips quivering. He didn't cry. But his fear was written all over his tiny face.
"What's happening here?" Dante asked.
His voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
It was the kind of voice that could shatter mountains even in whispers.
But he hadn't spoken to Alina.
He had spoken directly to Kelpie.
And the poor boy nearly folded into himself. His hands tightened. His mouth opened, but no sound came. His whole body trembled like a leaf caught in storm wind.
Alina saw it instantly. Her heart squeezed.
And before she could think, before she could remember who she was speaking to—
She stepped forward.
She walked calmly to Kelpie's side, and gently placed her hand on his small shoulder. He flinched slightly, but didn't pull away.
Then she turned to face Dante Nightshade.
"Can you speak gently?" she asked, her voice soft but firm. "He's a child."
The words hung in the air like a fragile piece of glass between them.
Dante's gaze shifted on her and Alina's breath hitched.
His eyes… weren't just cold.
They were bottomless. Endless. Like they had seen a thousand lifetimes and lost more than a soul could hold.
His stare was like walking into a cave with no light.
She felt a chill run from the base of her spine all the way to her fingertips. It wasn't anger that frightened her—it was how unreadable he was. Like he was trying to decide if her existence mattered.
And yet, she didn't look away.
Her hand stayed steady on Kelpie's shoulder.
Dante's gaze traveled over the ruined dining hall, still unnervingly silent save for the steady drip of water and the occasional clink of floating trays nudging the walls. He hadn't acknowledged Alina's words.
Then, his gaze sharpened.
He narrowed his eyes, voice low and colder than before.
"Where is Lucian?"
Before she could respond, a soft, trembling voice broke the silence.
"I-I… I'm sorry…"
It was Kelpie.
His tiny hands fidgeted in front of him, eyes still glossy and full of guilt. He lowered his head, hair dripping, voice almost too small to hear.
"I asked… for Lucian to pass the honey plate…"
Alina leaned in, listening.
"He did. But my hands were slippery. I dropped it. And he… he called me dumb."
His voice cracked like a glass cup falling apart midair.
"I… I didn't mean to cry but it hurt. And… and then it just happened..."
His shoulders trembled, and his voice turned smaller.
"W-Water came out of everywhere… and I couldn't stop it. I didn't mean to flood… I didn't want to... I just…"
He sniffled quietly. Not loud sobbing. But the kind of quiet, aching cry that soaked straight into your chest.