Lost in a chapter

Four continued...

“Stand still,” Solis said abruptly, his voice calm but commanding.

Tora blinked at him, confused. “What? Why?”

“Just trust me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She hesitated but complied, wrapping her arms around herself as she tried to stop shivering. Solis stepped closer, raising his hands slightly. A faint warmth began to spread through the air around her, chasing away the biting cold. Tora’s eyes widened as she felt the dampness in her clothes vanish, replaced by a comforting dryness. She glanced at Solis, her lips parting to ask what he was doing, but something in his expression stopped her. His dark blue eyes were focused, almost distant, and she had the distinct impression that whatever he was doing, it required precision.

When he finally stepped back, the warmth faded, but her clothes were completely dry. “There,” he said simply, his voice returning to its usual tone.

Tora stared at him, dumbfounded. “How... How did you do that?”

Solis shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll shadow straight to the palace.”

“Wait, what? Already?” Tora asked, her stomach tightening. The memory of their last shadowing still made her head spin.

Before Tora could brace herself, the black swirls engulfed them again. The world twisted and spun, her stomach lurching as the weightless, suffocating sensation of shadowing pulled her through the void.

When they emerged, the icy chill of Sylvarune was replaced by the imposing atmosphere of Sylvain’s palace. The grand obsidian doors loomed ahead, their surface polished to a mirror-like gleam, reflecting the faint glow of torches that lined the walls. The pudin let out a startled chirp, clinging tightly to Tora, who steadied herself on shaky legs.

“Could you give me a little more warning next time?” she muttered, shooting Solis a glare.

His lips quirked in the faintest hint of amusement. “You’ll get used to it.”

Tora didn’t have time to respond as the palace doors opened, creaking softly to reveal the grand hall beyond. The air inside was cold, the vast chamber dimly lit by flickering torches and the eerie glow of enchanted crystals embedded in the walls. At the far end of the hall, seated on a throne of jagged obsidian, was Sylvain.

The High King rose as they entered, his tall, imposing figure radiating an icy authority that was both mesmerizing and unnerving. His blue eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, examining Tora with a sharp, almost predatory interest. He was just as handsome as Solis, but his presence was colder, sharper, a storm contained within a perfect façade.

“I’d forgotten how beautiful the Thoradians once were,” Sylvain said, his voice smooth but laced with something darker. Solis stiffened beside her, his tension palpable as his brother’s gaze lingered on Tora.

“Marthos tells me your name is Tora,” Sylvain continued, his piercing eyes meeting hers. Tora hesitated, unsure how to respond, before finally nodding. “Yes,” she said softly.

“Where is Marthos?” Solis interjected, his voice firm and edged with urgency.

Sylvain’s lips curved into a faint, humourless smile. “I sent her back to Aurathen. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” His tone was casual, but the underlying weight of his words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

“You may leave, brother,” Sylvain said abruptly, his tone dismissive as his gaze shifted back to Tora.

“No,” Solis replied, his voice low but resolute as he stepped forward, shielding Tora slightly. “I won’t leave her.”

Sylvain’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, this isn’t up for discussion,” he said, his voice cutting like ice. “Leave.”

Solis remained unmoving, his claws extending as his dark blue eyes burned with defiance. “I won’t let you kill her,” he warned, his voice steady and unyielding.

A dangerous silence fell over the room, the tension crackling like electricity in the air. Sylvain’s smile returned, colder and sharper than before. “I’ll do what I want, brother,” he said, his tone dripping with authority. “I am High King.”

“You will leave her alone,” Solis growled, his claws glinting faintly in the dim light.

Sylvain raised a hand, motioning for the guards who flanked the throne to step back. “I get it now. Solis, is this your mate?.”

Solis’s growl turned into a snarl, his entire body taut with fury. But before he could move, Sylvain’s hand flicked sharply, and a leash of searing fire coiled around Solis in an instant. The fire burned bright but did not scorch, holding him like unbreakable chains. Solis tried to release his powers against Sylvain but his brother’s leash of fire, held them at bay. With a surge of power, Sylvain threw Solis out, sealing the doors shut.

Tora cried out as she stumbled back, her pulse pounding in her ears. The pudin chirped nervously on her shoulder, pressing closer to her for comfort, she whispered to it “Go, find somewhere safe.” Sylvain turned his gaze to her, his smile widening as he took a step closer, his icy presence suffocating.

“Ignore the sound,” Sylvain said softly, his voice a venomous whisper. “He’s your mate, so he’ll keep trying to get in.” he said, sounding annoyed by his efforts.

Tora’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s a mate?” she asked, the fear in her voice betraying her attempt at defiance.

Sylvain tilted his head, almost amused by her ignorance. “Nothing that matters now. Forget it.” He took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with predatory intent. “Do you know why your kind are so rare?”

Tora shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “No.”

“It’s because Sylvarune executed them all,” Sylvain said, his face devoid of emotion. “They chose death over my command.”

Her breath hitched as his words settled over her like a heavy shroud. “Why?”

A flicker of something, annoyance, perhaps, crossed his face. “Because they were weak,” he said coldly. “But I’m giving you a choice, little flame. Die, or fall.”

Tora’s heart thundered in her chest, his ultimatum wrapping around her throat like a noose. The room seemed to shrink, the weight of his presence threatening to crush her. Despite the tremor in her knees, she forced herself to stand tall.

“If I fall,” she said, her voice trembling but gaining strength with each word, “what does my fate look like?”

Sylvain stepped closer, lifting a hand to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. His touch was as icy as his smile. “Sad. Miserable. Lonely. Shall I go on?”

Her stomach churned, but she held his gaze. “Then I choose death,” she said, her voice cracking but resolute. Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. If living meant surrendering her soul, she would rather join the stars with her parents.

She knelt before him, her movements slow and deliberate, almost like she knew what to do. Memories of her short life flashed before her eyes. Her breath steadied as the fear melted away, replaced by quiet determination.

Sylvain’s expression remained unreadable as he placed a hand atop her head. He admired her courage. Her death will be quick, flames flickered to life, licking at her hair without burning it. The fire pulsed a force that dug into her very essence. Tora gasped, her soul uncoiling and intertwining with his in a searing connection, she couldn’t comprehend. The agony was brief, replaced by a hollow stillness as she surrendered to her fate. Am I dying? She thought as shadows claimed her vision.