Unveiled
909 Words
Lucien woke slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.
The ceiling swam above him as he sat up, and a wave of weakness washed over him.
His body felt heavy, like he hadn't moved in days.
Sweat clung to his skin, cold against the heat burning inside him.
He looked down at his arm, the cloth wrapped around it was dark with dried blood.
“Still alive”he muttered, his voice hoarse.
He pushed the covers aside and stood. His legs almost gave out beneath him.
“Damn it” he hissed, catching himself on the bedpost.
The poison still lingered, not strong enough to kill him now, but enough to drag him down.
He took a breath and let it out slowly.
“You’ll walk. You’ve done worse.”
Each step was careful as he made his way across the cold stone floor.
He reached the bathroom door and pushed it open.
The air inside was thick with steam.
The scent of herbs and metal filled the space.
Lucien leaned against the wall for a moment, breathing hard.
He moved slowly and stopped by the tub,
He took off his shirt slowly, the fabric sticking to his skin. It dropped to the floor without a sound.
Next, he began to unwrap the cloth on his arm, the bandage was soaked, sticky with dried blood. It came off in heavy strips and fell at his feet.
His eyes settled on the wound, the flesh was dark, and thin black veins pulsed around it like poison still lived beneath the skin.
He stepped into the bath. The water was hot, sharp against his skin but he didn’t move away.
He sank down slowly, letting the heat swallow him.
His arms rested on the edge of the tub, and he leaned his head back, eyes on the ceiling.
His mind slipped back.
To the night before.
To Elira.
To the kiss.
He shut his eyes and let the memory rise.
She had just stood there, her eyes wide and lips parted.
“Say something,” he had almost whispered. But he hadn’t.
He’d waited for her to hit him. To curse him. To say the cruel thing she always kept ready.
But nothing came.
She kissed him back instead..
She had turned away.
Her chest rose like she couldn’t breathe, and then nothing. No words. No look back.
Coward.
Not her.
Him.
Lucien clenched his jaw, eyes still closed.
There’d been something in the way she looked at him before she left.
A flicker in her eyes.
Not hate.
But he couldn’t place it. Couldn’t name it.
And worse.. he couldn’t remember the taste of her lips.
It was like kissing a stranger.
“Was it taken too?” he muttered under his breath.
He opened his eyes at last and looked down.
The water was darker now. Tainted with old dirt and dried blood, It clung to his skin.
He stood, water trailing down his body as he stepped out and left the bathroom
The air in the chamber was cold, biting at his damp skin, but he didn’t rush.
He crossed the room and reached for the wooden closet.
The door creaked softly as he pulled it open.
Inside the closet, rows of old tunics, cloaks, and worn leather hung in silence.
Lucien ran his hand along the fabrics, fingers brushing over rough seams and faded embroidery. He stopped at a black tunic.
He started to pull it free when something slipped loose and hit the ground with a soft tap
He looked down.
A folded piece of parchment.
Lucien crouched slowly, a sharp sting shooting through his wounded arm, he ignored it and picked up the paper.
There was no seal. No wax. Just old parchment, the edges rough and curled.
He opened it carefully.
The writing inside wasn’t in common tongue.
No names.
No places.
Only marks and symbols
It was a language only the real Lucien would understand.
Only one other person would dare use it.
At the bottom, one name was scrawled in black ink
Marr.
Lucien folded the parchment and slipped it into the tunic.
He pulled the black cloth over his head, wincing as it brushed his healing arm.
He fastened the belt at his waist, his hands moving fast.
Then he turned toward the door.
“Guard” he called.
A few moments later, a guard stepped in and bowed.
“My lord.”
Lucien walked toward him.
He pulled out the folded parchment and held it between two fingers.
“This name”he said, tapping the word at the bottom. “Do you know it?”
The guard shook his head quickly without even looking.
“No, my lord.”
“Look at it.” Lucien said, his voice sharp
The guard flinched, then lowered his eyes to the paper.
“That’s Lord Marr, my lord.”
Lucien’s gaze narrowed.
“You know where he lives?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good” Lucien said, slipping the paper back into his tunic. “Go to him. Tell him I demand his presence. At once.”
The guard bowed quickly.
“At once, my lord.”
He turned and rushed out, boots echoing down the stone hall.
Lucien stood alone again, the chamber quiet around him.
Whoever sent that note knew exactly who the man he used to be.
And he was ready to uncover the truth.
- Writer
