Seraphine’s Play
Seraphine sat cross-legged on the cot in her darkened cell, her crescent mark casting a faint glow in the dim torchlight. She was humming softly to herself, the tune haunting and lilting, when the sound of heavy boots echoed down the corridor.
Her head tilted slightly, her dark eyes narrowing as the figure came into view. Malrik. His sickly frame was at odds with his air of authority, the unnatural gleam in his gray eyes more unsettling than his frail body.
“Ah,” Seraphine drawled, leaning back against the wall. “The infamous Malrik. I expected someone… taller.”
Malrik smirked, stepping closer to the bars of her cell. His movements were unhurried, as if he were savoring the moment. “And you must be the so-called Luna turned traitor,” he replied, his voice smooth but cold. “They said you were beautiful, but I wasn’t expecting the stench of failure to come with it.”
Seraphine’s laughter was soft, but it carried an edge. “That’s cute, coming from the man who’s spent his life playing in his brother’s shadow. Did you come here to compare notes on second place, or is this a social visit?”
Malrik’s smirk flickered into something sharper. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing the bars. “You talk a big game for someone locked in a cell. Tell me, Seraphine, how does it feel to know your sister has surpassed you in every way? That she’s the one who matters now?”
Her crescent mark pulsed faintly, and she rose to her feet with deliberate grace. “I suppose it feels a bit like being interrogated by a man who couldn’t lead without stealing his brother’s pack. Oh, wait—didn’t even manage that, did you?”
Malrik’s gray eyes darkened, his fingers tightening on the bars. “Careful,” he warned, his voice low. “You may think you’re clever, but you’re nothing to me. A pawn at best.”
Seraphine stepped closer, her lips curving into a dangerous smile. “A pawn? Sweetheart, pawns have a habit of reaching the other side of the board.” She tilted her head, her voice dropping into a purr. “So tell me, Malrik, what is it you want? Because I’m sure you didn’t come here just to trade insults.”
He chuckled, though there was no humor in the sound. “What I want is none of your concern. But since you asked, I’ll tell you this much—you’re irrelevant. Isla is the future. She’s the one with power worth harnessing. You’re nothing but a distraction. A failed experiment.”
The words landed like blows, but Seraphine didn’t flinch. Instead, she stepped back, folding her arms and leaning casually against the wall. “You’ve got a sharp tongue for someone so sickly. Tell me, Malrik—what’s it like to need power so badly you’ll tear it from someone else just to survive?”
His smirk faltered for the briefest moment, and Seraphine knew she’d struck a nerve. But before she could press further, Malrik turned abruptly, his coat swirling around him as he walked away.
“Enjoy your stay, Seraphine,” he called over his shoulder, his voice dripping with disdain. “It’ll be your last chance to feel important.”
As his footsteps faded, Seraphine sank onto her cot, her smirk vanishing. For the first time, her hands trembled as she touched her crescent mark. Her thoughts churned, a mix of anger and desperation.
“No, Malrik,” she whispered to herself, her voice a venomous hiss. “You’ll regret underestimating me.”
