The King’s Fury
Far above the vaults, in the shadowy expanse of his throne room, the Vampire King loomed like a storm on the verge of breaking. His piercing crimson eyes were fixed on the trembling figure of a knight kneeling before him, the weight of the King’s fury pressing down on the room like an invisible force. The air was suffocating, charged with the sharp edge of his barely contained wrath.
“You failed,” the King growled, his voice low and menacing, each word reverberating through the cavernous chamber. “The relic is gone. Who took it?”
The knight flinched, his armor rattling faintly as he spoke. “The wards were breached, Your Majesty, but we’ve yet to identify the intruders. We believe—”
“I don’t want your beliefs,” the King interrupted, his tone cold enough to freeze the blood of everyone present. He rose from his throne with a deliberate slowness, his towering frame casting a long shadow that stretched across the trembling knight. “I want results.”
Standing silently to the side, Adrian kept his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His father’s fury was a palpable force in the room, but Adrian knew better than to speak out of turn. He remained motionless, his face a carefully composed mask.
The King turned his piercing gaze to Adrian, the weight of his scrutiny cutting through the thick tension like a blade. “What do you know of this?” he demanded.
Adrian met his father’s eyes, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. “The wards held longer than expected,” he said evenly. “If the relic was taken, it must have been moved long ago, before the protections were enhanced.”
The King’s expression darkened, his lips curling into a sneer. “You’re stalling,” he said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “Do not mistake my patience for weakness, Adrian. You’ve had enough time. Find the truth—or suffer the consequences.”
Adrian inclined his head, his expression unreadable. “I’ll find the answers you seek, Father.”
The King waved him off dismissively, his attention shifting to the knights stationed near the entrance. “Prepare to depart,” he ordered, his tone sharp and unyielding. “Retrieve the artifact. Kill anyone who stands in your way.”
The knights bowed low and moved to obey, their armor clinking softly as they filed out of the room. Adrian lingered for a moment longer, his jaw tightening as his father’s words echoed in his mind. His lie had bought Lyra and Eryon a small sliver of time, but it wasn’t enough. The King’s wrath would be swift and merciless if the truth came to light.
As Adrian exited the throne room, the cold stone corridors seemed to close in around him. His mind raced, calculating strategies to protect Lyra and Eryon while keeping his father’s suspicions at bay. Every move felt like a step closer to disaster, the line between loyalty and betrayal growing thinner with each passing moment.
The stakes had never been higher. Failure wasn’t an option—but neither was surrendering the people he had sworn to protect, even if it meant standing against the King himself.
