All Chapters of Mine: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The moment Magnus left the room, the air turned ice cold. Elia stood frozen, her breath shallow as she clutched Elizabeth, trying to calm her wailing cries. The baby—so small, so fragile—sensed it before any of them did.Frederick wiped at his bruised throat, exchanging a look with Ron. “We need to go after him.”Ron hesitated, his grip tight on his sword hilt. “Frederick, I don’t think he even knows who we are anymore.”Frederick didn’t care. He couldn’t. Not when he had just seen Magnus’ eyes—black as void, stripped of humanity.Not when he had felt that magic, so much darker than anything Alan had ever wielded.He turned to Elia. “Stay here. No matter what you hear, don’t come after us.”Elia’s lip trembled, but she nodded. She didn’t trust her voice.Then Frederick and Ron rushed after Magnus.They found him in the courtyard.The moonlight bathed the stone in silver, but where Magnus stood, the ground withered beneath him. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his fingers twitching as

Frederick barely remembered the walk to the dungeon. His mind was too full—churning with the weight of Magnus’ words, the sight of his friend breaking apart right before his eyes. If I hurt her, if I hurt Elizabeth… you kill me. Frederick had never been the type to pray. But right now, he wished someone—anyone—was listening. The guards at the dungeon entrance stepped aside at the sight of him, their eyes flickering with unease. He must have looked as wrecked as he felt. Astrid was waiting for him just beyond the iron doors. “You’re going to see him again,” she said, more statement than question. Frederick nodded, too drained to argue. Astrid exhaled through her nose, her expression tight. “He’s dangerous, Frederick. He almost—” “I know what he almost did.” The memory of Alan’s fingers tightening around his throat flashed through his mind. The sick laughter. The way he had wanted Frederick to kill him—because it would only make things worse. He forced the thought away. “But he

Frederick helped Magnus back to his chambers. His No More TimeFrederick helped Magnus back to his chambers. His body was heavy with exhaustion, every step sluggish, as if the corruption had drained the very strength from him. He barely spoke, his breaths ragged, his skin pale as moonlight.Elia hovered close, her eyes darting between Magnus and the dark veins still pulsing along his skin. She clutched his hand tightly, as if her touch alone could anchor him, could pull him back from the abyss he was teetering on.Frederick felt Astrid beside him, tense and watchful. Aria stood near the doorway, her face tight with worry, one protective arm wrapped around her stomach.Once Magnus was settled into bed, he let out a breath that sounded more like a whisper of relief. He turned his head toward Elia, his fingers weakly brushing against her cheek. “I scared you,” he murmured.Elia shook her head fiercely, tears shining in her eyes. “You didn’t mean to.”“But I still did.” His voice was holl

Magnus didn’t know where he was running.He barely knew who he was anymore.The corridors blurred together, shadows stretching and twisting as his vision swam. His breath came in ragged gasps, his pulse hammering in his ears. Every part of him burned—his skin, his bones, his very soul. The darkness inside him wasn’t just creeping in anymore. It was consuming him.He could still feel Frederick’s throat under his fingers.Still hear the terror in Elia’s voice.He had attacked them.No—he had tried to kill his best friend.He stumbled into an empty chamber, gripping the edges of a table to keep himself upright. His fingers dug into the wood, splintering it under his grip. His arms shook violently. His reflection in the polished metal of a shield caught his eye—his face pale, his veins black, his eyes flickering between hazel and the abyss.He had seen this before.He had fought this before.But this time—this time it was winning.“No.” His own voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.He

Morning came, but there was no peace in it.A heavy silence settled over the castle, thick and suffocating. The air felt charged, as if the walls themselves knew what was coming.Frederick stood in the war room, waiting. His hands were pressed against the table, his head bowed. His thoughts raced, his pulse unsteady.The decision had been made.Alan had to die.The words kept repeating in his head, but no matter how many times he said them, they still felt unreal.This was it.A door creaked open behind him.He didn’t have to turn to know who it was.Magnus stepped into the room, his movements slow, deliberate. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and his usually strong frame seemed just a bit more worn, his shoulders tense, as if carrying a weight too heavy to bear.But there was no hesitation in his steps.Frederick straightened. “Are you ready?”Magnus didn’t answer right away. He exhaled through his nose, rubbing his face as if trying to shake off the exhaustion clinging to h