The Eternal Silence
953 Words
The battlefield lay in ruin, crimson pools soaking into the fractured stones, the night air heavy with death and despair. The victory over the usurper commanders had come at a cruel cost, and now, silence reigned where chaos had once roared.
All eyes were on the limp body of Prince Kenneth Valdros.
He lay cradled by the scarred earth, unmoving. No breath, no sound. Only the blood dripping steadily from the dagger wound in his chest—an enchanted weapon meant not to kill, but to imprison.
A circle of mourners slowly closed in. Queen Seraphina fell to her knees first, her usually serene face distorted in anguish. She lifted her son's lifeless body into her arms, cradling him against her as if by sheer will she could restore warmth to his skin. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks.
Beside her, Seraphine sobbed uncontrollably, collapsing into the embrace of Queen Seraphina who held both her child and the girl close. Her cries echoed through the clearing, piercing in their rawness. Even Malrik, standing stiffly behind them, let his eyes fall in deep sorrow, fists clenched at his sides.
Aurelius, Darien, Lucien, Sevrin, and Marek stood at various corners of the circle. None spoke. Their expressions ranged from stunned silence to veiled grief. For the first time in centuries, not one of the royal vampire princes knew what to say.
"Bring the royal physician," King Valdros finally commanded, his voice strained and tight. His golden armor, streaked with blood, clanked softly as he moved toward his fallen son. His eyes remained locked on Kenneth, unreadable.
Moments later, the physician—a tall, elderly vampire with sharp eyes and a soft voice—knelt beside Kenneth. He examined the wound carefully, then hovered his hand above Kenneth’s chest, channeling ancient magic through his fingers.
After several tense minutes, he stood and bowed to the King, Queen, and assembled royals.
"Your Majesty," he said solemnly, "Prince Kenneth is not dead. The dagger he was stabbed with was laced with a slumber enchantment—one meant for highborn vampires. It has forced him into a dormant state… a true vampire slumber."
"Can he be woken?" Queen Seraphina whispered, trembling.
"No," the physician said. "Such enchantments cannot be undone by external intervention. He must awaken of his own accord. That may be in a few weeks… or in a thousand years."
A hushed murmur swept through the gathered crowd.
"Will he age?" Darien asked, stepping forward.
The physician shook his head. "Not naturally. Vampires in slumber do not age unless guided to. But with the right chamber, the right preservation spells, and royal oversight, we can help his body mature over the years in case he sleeps long."
The King nodded slowly, his voice firm. "Then we prepare the Eternal Chamber beneath the castle. We shall enshrine him there—not as a corpse, but as a prince awaiting the call of destiny."
Queen Seraphina kissed Kenneth’s forehead and nodded tearfully. "We must preserve him with honor."
Prince Aurelius stepped forward. "Should the realm be invited to bear witness?"
"Yes," the King answered, then hesitated. "But we must also consider the grief of the people. Thousands mourn their kin. Not all will be able to attend."
An elder vampire general bowed respectfully. "Sire, we will summon as many nobles, knights, and clans as possible. Even in mourning, they will wish to pay their respects to Prince Kenneth Valdros."
Word spread quickly across the realm. Within the span of a day, the Eternal Chamber—an ancient vault carved beneath the castle, laced with runes and glowing crystal—was prepared.
The ceremonial procession was set to begin.
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On the day of the ceremony, the skies were overcast, thick with rolling clouds. The scent of incense clung to the air, drifting through every corridor of the castle.
Kenneth lay upon a velvet bier carved from obsidian and bonewood, his hands folded over his chest, his skin pale but unmarred, his expression serene.
Queen Seraphina and Seraphine stood at the front, each in deep ceremonial robes of mourning. The princes lined both sides, dressed in formal black attire, silver embroidery glinting with every torch flicker.
Knights, nobles, generals, and even scholars gathered in the main atrium before the descent into the Eternal Chamber.
As the hour struck, the King rose before the crowd.
"My people," he began, voice slow and measured. "Today we honor not death, but rest. Prince Kenneth Valdros, though fallen into slumber, remains one of us. His blood was spilled for this kingdom. His sacrifice saved lives. And while we do not know when he will rise again, we will be here—waiting."
The silence that followed was heavy, sacred.
The procession began.
Row by row, they descended into the chamber. There, amid glowing crystal and runes, Kenneth was laid upon a stone altar shaped like a carved phoenix, wings stretched wide.
Sevrin stepped forward, his voice low. "I always envied you, Kenneth... But you earned our respect. We’ll be ready when you wake."
Darien followed, murmuring, "Rest easy, little brother. The world may change a thousand times before you open your eyes again… but we will remember."
Even Lucien, often the most aloof, placed a single obsidian coin beside Kenneth’s hand. "To pay the debt of silence."
As the final rites were spoken, Queen Seraphina leaned in and whispered, her voice trembling, "Come back to me, my son… one day. Please."
With slow reverence, the chamber door was sealed with spells older than the castle itself.
And so, Prince Kenneth Valdros entered slumber—an eternal silence that rippled through the hearts of all who bore witness.
Waiting for the day he would return.
- Writer
