I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Zarius stood near the central fountain of the temple courtyard, his broad back leaning against the stone rim as he watched the clear water ripple under the morning sunlight. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, his eyes occasionally drifting back toward the double doors leading back into the sanctuary.

Beside him, Marielle was leaning against the decorative railing, absently spinning a silver ring around her thumb. Her earlier tension had settled into a quiet, contemplative calm after their conversation, but even she was starting to glance at the sun’s position in the sky.

”He’s taking his time in there,” Marielle noted casually, her voice breaking the quiet hush of the garden. ”Do you think he’s still praying, or did the High Priest corner him for another long talk?”

”Probably reminiscing,” Zarius replied, his low voice calm and even. ”Or talking about his family.”

”You sound surprisingly patient,” Marielle teased, throwing a sideways glance at her brother. ”I thought you’d be pacing holes into the gravel by now.”

Zarius let out a faint, quiet exhale, his dark eyes remaining fixed on the arched doorway.

Truthfully, every natural instinct inside him urged him to go back in and check on Cherion. Zarius had never fully trusted the capital’s religious hierarchy, or anyone affiliated with the Grand Temple, for that matter. The priesthood carried its own political agenda, wrapped tightly in gold thread and holy words, and Zarius was well aware of how dangerous those holy wolves in sheep’s clothing could be.

However, Cherion trusted the High Priest enough, and Zarius respected Cherion’s judgment too much to drag his boots through the sacred halls uninvited.

I’ll give it five more minutes, Zarius thought to himself, his jaw tightening just a fraction beneath his collar. Then I’m going in.

As if summoned by the thought, the heavy wooden doors at the far end of the courtyard clicked open.

The High Priest stepped out into the sunlight, adjusting the wide gold-trimmed sleeves of his white robes. He was walking alone, his long leather slippers tapping softly against the smooth stone floor of the cloister path.

Zarius pushed himself off the fountain rim instantly, his long strides cutting across the courtyard with Marielle falling into step right beside him.

”Your Holiness,” Zarius called out, stopping a few paces in front of the old priest. ”Is Cherion finished with his prayer?”

The High Priest paused, blinking in mild surprise as he looked at the two northerners standing before him. He glanced past Zarius’s shoulder, scanning the empty courtyard path behind them.

”Lord Cherion?” the High Priest asked, his brow furrowing slightly. ”Is he not with you?”

Zarius’s eyes narrowed instantly, a sudden, cold sharpness cutting through his calm demeanor. ”No. We stayed out here in the courtyard while we waited for him to finish praying.”

”Ah...” The High Priest let out a soft sigh, rubbing his temple with two fingers as he pieced together the timeline. ”After his prayer was complete, he followed me to my private study for a brief moment to talk. When a young attendant summoned me away for church business, Lord Cherion and I stepped out into the private corridor together.”

The old man gestured vaguely back toward the quiet, arched hallway behind him.

”I assumed he was walking back out to join the two of you in the gardens,” the priest explained, his tone apologetic. ”I had to hurry to the meeting room, so I did not watch him leave. Did he not come through the main doors?”

”No,” Marielle spoke up, her brows knitting together in genuine concern. ”We’ve been standing right here by the fountain the entire time. I know he’s not that big, but we’d have seen him if he’d walked past here”

Marielle looked up at Zarius, offering a small, reassuring shrug. ”He probably just took a wrong turn, Brother. This place is massive, and the private corridors all look identical with those white arches and carpets. You know how he gets when he’s lost in thought, he probably walked right past the main exit without realizing it.”

”Perhaps,” Zarius said, though his voice had dropped an octave, turning flat, low, and dangerously alert.

He didn’t like it. Cherion was sharp and observant; even when distracted, he rarely lost his sense of direction to the point of vanishing inside a secure building.

”Allow me to gather a few junior attendants to search the guest chambers and the side chapels,” the High Priest offered quickly, noticing the heavy, suffocating aura beginning to bleed off the Duke of Valtrane. ”If he is lost in the private wing, we will find him shortly.”

”I’ll look myself,” Zarius said, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument.

Without waiting for the priest’s permission, Zarius turned on his heel and strode back through the grand double doors, stepping into the cool, silent interior of the Grand Temple. Marielle and the High Priest followed closely behind, their hurried footfalls echoing against the high vaulted ceilings of the main nave.

They retraced the route back toward the private quarters, passing through the ornate iron gates and stepping into the long, stone-walled corridor leading to the High Priest’s study.

”Cherion!” Marielle called out, her voice echoing down the empty hall. ”Cherion, are you in here?”

Silence answered her. The long corridor was entirely empty, sunlight filtering through the high, narrow windows in quiet, dusty beams.

Zarius didn’t call out. He walked slowly down the center of the hall, his dark eyes scanning every inch of the floorboards, the stone pillars, and the heavy wooden doors lining the passage. His senses were completely flared, his hearing tuned to the faintest rustle of fabric, his instincts searching for any sign of a struggle or a forced entry.

And then, he caught it.

Zarius stopped dead in his tracks.

The scent was faint, so subtle that an ordinary human or a light-scented noble would have missed it entirely. But to Zarius, it was as distinct as a flare in the dark.

It was Cherion’s soft, sweet scent, carrying the sharp, distinct trace of Zarius’s own dominant mark from the night before. The scent trail led straight down the corridor, trailing off right near a wide, shadowy alcove set between two massive load-bearing stone pillars.

Zarius stepped into the alcove, his boots grinding softly against the rug.

He raised a hand, pressing his broad palm flat against the solid, cold stone wall where the scent seemed to concentrate before abruptly vanishing into thin air. There were no drag marks on the floor, no signs of a fight, and no blood. Just a lingering, warm trace of Cherion’s presence resting against an apparently solid wall.

Zarius stared at the stone surface, his expression darkening as a low growl rumbled in his chest.

”Zarius?” Marielle asked, stepping up behind him and noticing the way his jaw was set into rigid iron. ”Did you find something?”

Zarius didn’t answer right away. He ran his fingers along the seam between two heavy stone blocks, pausing when he felt a tiny gap that shouldn’t have been there.

”No.” Zarius’s voice dropped to a quiet growl. ”But I knew he was here.”