CRUEL BY DESIGN

The Darkon throne room glowed faintly as ancient glyphs flickered to life. Arion Vaelaris stood motionless before his father. His expression was cold and unreadable not because he tried to hide his emotions, but because he didn’t have any.

  Emotion was a defect in their race. It was considered as a weakness.

  Arion was considered their most perfect warrior.

  “The Hydoria has pulsed,” the king said, voice vibrating through the chamber. “For the first time in centuries.”

  Every Darkon in the hall stiffened.

  Arion lifted his eyes slightly. “Direction?”

  “Toward Earth,” the king said. “The pulse was faint extremely well-concealed. The carrier is likely unaware of it.”

  Arion nodded once. “I will find them.”

  “You must,” the king replied. “Our race cannot survive without the Hydoria. Bring the carrier back alive.”

  Arion accepted the command without hesitation. Within minutes, he stepped through the portal and arrived on Earth.

  The city was shockingly bright, filled with scents and sounds unfamiliar to Darkon senses. Arion adjusted, masking himself with a human appearance.

  The pulse had been weak, but he felt its after-trail like a thread tugging faintly at his chest.

  It led him toward the Harrington Estate, where a large celebration was underway.

  Lights. Laughter. Wealth on full display.

  He adjusted the cuff of his suit, his gray eyes scanning the crowd with careful precision. Every movement, every conversation he noted them all. Most humans were predictable. But he was searching for something specific, a heartbeat, a rhythm… something out of the ordinary.

  The clicking sound of glass brought everyone's attention back to the party, the celebrant was being introduced. It was a rare occasion to see her without her bodyguards. She was honestly tired of her father's over the top softness towards her. She descended the flight of stairs to join in on the occasion.

  Inside, Arion’s senses sharpened as he traced the diminishing echo of the Hydoria. The signal pointed toward a single person. A girl in silver.

  Elara Harrington.

  The daughter of the city’s wealthiest man.

  She was surrounded by friends, smiling politely while others greeted her.

  Arion watched her calmly, analyzing her posture, heartbeat, breathing rate.

  Nothing unusual.

  Except the faint trace of ancient energy that flickered near her every few seconds.

  He stepped closer not enough to be noticed, just enough to confirm.

  Yes.

  The Hydoria pulse had come from her direction.

  But the energy felt faint… like it had passed her, not originated from her.

  Still, she was the only lead he had.

  Arion turned away, already planning his next step.

  Yet before he could leave, Elara’s gaze landed on him. She studied him for a moment, her head tilting slightly. Most people at her birthday parties only noticed the grandeur, the gifts, or the attention lavished upon her. But this man, quiet, reserved, standing alone drew her attention immediately.

  Curious, she walked toward him, weaving through the crowd with effortless poise.

  “Hello,” she said, her voice soft but confident. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you… one of the doctors?”

  Arion looked at her, his expression neutral

  “Yes,” he replied smoothly. “Arion Vaelaris I work at the city hospital.”

  She smiled politely. “I’m Elara. It’s… nice to meet someone who isn’t just here for the party itself ".

  “Pleasure,” he said, his voice controlled, though his eyes lingered on her longer than he intended.

  Somewhere deep inside, something in him ancient, patient, and shadowed stirred.