Deep within a rugged cave hidden among steep and jagged mountains, a group of cloaked figures stood in a wide circle, their shadows stretching and twisting against the uneven stone walls as the dim glow of torches flickered around them. The air inside the cave was thick with the presence of magic. The faint hum of power vibrated through the ground beneath their feet, where ancient symbols had been carved and were now glowing faintly with an eerie light.
One of the figures stepped forward, their movements tense and restless as they looked around at the others.
"She ought to be in the castle by now," the figure said, their voice sharp and filled with urgency. "If she does not get there, the prophecy will not work."
Another figure shifted slightly, their cloak brushing against the ground as they spoke in a lower but equally serious tone.
"They have to meet," they said. "That is the foundation of everything. If they do not cross paths, then the prophecy will not activate, and everything we have done will be for nothing."
A quiet murmur spread through the group as tension began to rise, each of them aware of the weight of what was at stake.
Then, one of the witches, who had remained silent until now, raised her head and spoke calmly, her voice steady and controlled.
"We need to be patient," she said, cutting through the tension. "We cannot force the oracle to act faster."
Her eyes moved from one figure to another, making sure her words were heard clearly.
"The prophecy is already unfolding," she continued. "It is moving in its own way, at its own pace, and no matter how much we want to interfere, we cannot rush it without risking everything."
The cave fell silent after she spoke.
"Prophecies do not obey us," she added quietly. "We follow them. If we try to control it, we may destroy the very outcome we are trying to secure."
Reluctantly, the others lowered their heads slightly, acknowledging the truth in her words.
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Slave camps
Hazel's Pov
I stood frozen as Mandy slowly raised her head, and the moment I saw her face clearly, my heart dropped.
Her face was badly bruised.
Her skin was swollen in some places, discolored in others, and there were strange white streaks of a sticky substance smeared across her cheeks and jaw. The sight made my stomach twist with discomfort and fear.
"Mandy," I breathed, reaching out with a trembling hand. "What happened? Who did this?"
She didn't answer at first. Her eyes were glassy, staring at a point somewhere behind me. Then, her expression broke completely, and she started crying again, her sobs coming out stronger and more uncontrollable than before.
"I couldn't... I didn't want to..." she stammered between gasps, her voice raw.
"Shhh," I whispered, pulling her close.
Before I could say anything else, she leaned forward suddenly and wrapped her arms tightly around me, holding onto me as if I was the only thing keeping her together.
I froze for a moment, caught off guard by her sudden action. Then, slowly, I wrapped my arms around her as well. I grabbed a damp cloth and gently wiped at the white streaks on her face, but she only clung to me tighter, her fingers digging into my clothes.
Her body trembled against mine, and I could feel how weak she had become. Mandy was never like this. She was always strong, always confident, and she was the only one who ever stood up for me whenever the others tried to bully me.
Seeing her like this made my chest tighten painfully.
"It's okay," I whispered gently, even though I was not sure if it was true. "I'm here."
She did not respond to my words. She only held onto me tighter, as if she was afraid that letting go would make everything worse.
I stayed with her like that, gently rubbing her back as her cries slowly softened into quiet sobs, and her breathing gradually became slower and more uneven.
After some time, she finally fell asleep in my arms.
Carefully, I adjusted her position and lowered her gently onto the ground, making sure she was as comfortable as possible.
I watched her for a moment, my thoughts heavy and unsettled.
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The Lunaretha- In the royal castle
Killian's boots echoed like thunderclaps against the marble floors of the hallway. He ignored the bowing servants, his mind racing with the message he'd just received: The Princess has fallen from the balcony.
He burst through the heavy oak doors leading to the courtyard, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. "Sandra!"
He stopped dead.
The courtyard was bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. There, sitting comfortably on a stone bench under a blooming trellis, was Lysandra. Her long black hair was perfectly braided, and her high cheekbones caught the light as she tilted her head back, sipping leisurely from a crystal glass filled with thick, crimson blood juice looking completely unharmed.
Killian's worry vanished, replaced instantly by a simmering white-hot anger. "Sandra, you look perfectly fine,"
Lysandra stood up, a graceful, predator-like movement. She wore a smirk that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Oh, brother. You finally decided to grace me with your presence."
"You lied to the guards. You lied to me," Killian growled, stepping into her space. "Why on earth did you call me out here with such a pathetic trick?"
Lysandra's smile vanished, replaced by a flash of genuine irritation. "I sent three different servants to your study, Killian."
"I asked you to train. I asked you to eat. I even asked just to talk. And what did you say? 'No.' Every time." she continued
She stepped closer, poking a finger at his armored chest. "It's pathetic that I have to pretend to be dying just to get five minutes of my brother's time."
Killian's expression remained hardened like a mask of stone. "I am the Crown Prince. There is a plague killing the witches and human. I need to find solution even if they mean nothing to us. I don't have time for games, Sandra."
Sensing his seriousness, Lysandra's demeanor shifted instantly. She dropped to her knees on the grass, her eyes welling with dramatic tears. "You have not seen me since yesterday! I feel sick not seeing you, Killian. The walls are closing in, and everyone treats me like a doll. Don't be angry at me... please."
Killian let out a deep sigh. He knew it was a performance but she was his blood. He knelt down to her level, his voice softening. "I'm busy, Sandra. Truly. You cannot pull me away from my duties for tea and sparring. You can train with the instructors. You have the best instructors in the kingdom at your beck and call."
Lysandra wiped a stray tear and pouted. "The instructors are useless. They're afraid to hit me because I'm a Princess, and they're too slow to catch me. I can beat them with my eyes closed. I need a real challenge. I need you to spar with me."
Killian shook his head. His sister was overly clingy and had a habit of throwing tantrums whenever things did not go her way, which was exactly what she was doing now. He knew she was telling the truth about her skill—Lysandra was a terrifyingly talented fighter; stronger then most instructors. But he, Adrian, and the Alpha team -the people she was weaker than- were all focused on the plague and had no time to spare.
"I will train with you," he conceded, "but not today. And... we will eat dinner together tonight., so please do not call me out during my duties again."
Lysandra stood up with a wide grin on her face looking like someone who just won a lottery. "Okay, Kills! Keep to your word. I will see you at dinner!" she said happily before turning and walking away.
Kilian remained standing for a moment before his expression hardened again.
He turned to the servant who had delivered the message.
"You are her personal servant," he said coldly. "If she sends you with a false message again, and you deliver it... I won't just fire you. I will have you beheaded.
With that, he turned and walked away without waiting for a response.
The servant remained frozen in place, unsure of which command she should follow.
She knew that the princess was playful with her family, but she was also a skilled and dangerous fighter who was ruthless when necessary, just like her brother.
After a moment, the servant shook her head slightly and decided that next time, she would find a way to avoid being caught between them.
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The Lunaretha- In the royal castle
Later that night, the royal dining hall was prepared, and the long table was filled with dishes made using human blood instead of water or milk, giving off a rich and almost intoxicating aroma.
King Alaric sat at the head of the table, his presence like a dark cloud, commanding and imposing. Queen Elowen sat gracefully to his right while princess Lysandra sat two seats to his left, her posture restless as she waited.
Kilian had not arrived yet. The seat to the King's left was for him and it was unoccupied.
Lysandra's anxiety grew as time passed because she knew how her father reacted when things did not go his way, and she was certain that he would lash out at Kilian again.
She did not understand why they never got along.
Queen Elowen, however, remained calm and composed, her expression unreadable.
No one had started eating because the king had insisted that Kilian must be present before the meal could begin.
"Where is he?" Alaric asked, his voice a low rumble.
"He is coming, my King," Elowen said smoothly.
Just as the King's patience snapped, the doors swung open.
Kilian stepped inside. He looked calm and completely unbothered, his dark slick hair perfectly arranged with a few loose strands falling across his face, giving him an effortlessly striking appearance that made girls drool and wet.
The moment King Alaric heard the doors open, his expression darkened immediately.
"Killian," he said sharply. "You will respect this family. You will respect the dinner hour. And you will respect me."
Kilian did not react instead he just pulled out his chair
"I was busy," he replied simply, his tone was flat, devoid of any emotions..
The meal began in a suffocating silence. Alaric watched his son with a disdain that bordered on hatred.
After some time, Queen Elowen placed her utensils down gracefully and spoke. "I have received reports from the head of the servants today," she said. "Our numbers are dwindling. Between the beheading of servants who plotted against us and the lords, we are short-handed in the east wing."
"Are we hiring more, father?" Lysandra asked, trying to break the tension between her father and Killian who were now staring intensively at each other.
"Yes, we are, my dear," Queen Elowen replied.
She then turned her gaze to the King. "My King, my love... do I have your permission to hire the staff for the Lunaretha? We need those who are... durable."
She asked permission so she wouldn't labeled a rebellious queen, doing things without her husband's knowledge.
King Alaric took a slow sip of his drink before answering. ""You are permitted. But do not hire from the city. Go to the slave camps. Those dogs are more loyal when they think a scrap of bread is a gift. You'll find maids willing to do anything for a drop of mercy."
"Thank you, my King," Queen Elowen said. She turned to her daughter.
"Lysandra, alert the camp officials. Tell them the Lunaretha needs new servants. Tell them to prepare a screening of both males and females."
"Yes, mother," Lysandra replied.
"And you will go with the head of the servants to select them," Queen Elowen added as she gently swirled her wine.
She then turned to Lysandra.
"Inform the officials of the slave camps that we require new servants," she said. "They are to prepare both males and females for screening."
"Yes, mother," Lysandra replied.
"And you will go with the head of the servants to select them," Queen Elowen added.
Lysandra perked up. "Me? I get to choose?"
"It's time you learned how to spot quality in the livestock we keep," Elowen said, swirling her wine cup.
Throughout the entire conversation, Killian remained silent, his eyes fixed on his plate. He hated these dinners. He hated the way his father looked at him. To him, they were nothing more than an opportunity for his father to criticize him. But he sat there, enduring it for Lysandra's sake.