Your kingdom
1109 Words
Blood ran down Axton’s palm as he caught the edge of Daria’s sword with his bare hand. The steel dug into his flesh, warm drops of blood stained the floor between them.
“You always did enjoy pain,” Daria hissed, pushing the blade harder against his skin.
Axton’s lips curled in a smirk, though his jaw tightened from the sting. “And you always enjoyed pretending you could scare me.”
Her eyes flashed. Without warning, she twisted her wrist, cutting him deeper before yanking her blade free. A thin line of blood trailed down his hand, but Axton didn’t flinch. He locked eyes with her, his chest rising and falling in controlled breaths.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” he muttered.
“I still might,” she snapped, stepping closer. “Why are you here, Axton?”
He hesitated, his throat tight. Before he could answer, she shouted, “Guards!”
The heavy doors burst open and armored men rushed in, spears raised.
“Take him,” Daria ordered coldly. “Bind him and drag him to the throne room. Let him kneel before us like the traitor he is.”
Rough hands grabbed Axton’s arms, jerking them behind his back, they locked his wrist with shackles. He didn’t resist, though every muscle in his body screamed for a fight. As they dragged him away, his eyes never left Daria’s. She stared back, her eyes furrowed, until the doors slammed shut between them.
****
The throne room of Ash was vast and silent, lit by tall torches that cast long shadows on the stone walls. Elders sat in a semicircle, their robes brushing the floor. The guards shoved Axton to his knees before the throne, his head snapping forward from the force.
Daria entered, dressed in black and silver, her cloak flowing behind her . She climbed the steps to the throne and sat tall, her chin high, her sword now resting across her lap.
The room felt colder with her gaze fixed on him.
“Axton,” she said sharply. “Why do you sneak into my palace like a thief in the night?”
Axton raised his head slowly. His cheek was smeared with dirt from the floor, his lip bleeding from the guards’ rough grip. But his eyes was dark, steady and did not waver.
“Because thieves get answers faster than kings,” he replied.
Gasps rippled through the elders. One slammed his staff down. “Insolence! He mocks the queen in her own hall. Cut out his tongue!”
Daria raised her hand, silencing the elder, but her glare deepened. “You walk a thin line, Axton. Speak quickly before I decide your life isn’t worth the air you’re breathing.”
Axton’s chest heaved. His pride wanted silence, but Sarah’s pale face flashed in his mind. He had no time for pride.
“I broke the treaty,” he said flatly.
The throne room erupted with shocked voices. Elders muttered curses, some clutched their robes as though the words themselves carried poison.
Daria’s expression froze, though her fingers gripped her sword tighter. “You… what?”
“I broke it,” he repeated. “I ended the pact sealed by our ancestors. And now my family pays the price. My sister bears the curse. Soon, the rest of my bloodline will fall.”
The silence that followed was heavy, almost crushing.
One elder leaned forward, voice trembling. “The curse of the blood moon… it lives again.”
Daria stood slowly, her cloak sweeping across the steps. “So you bring your cursed blood into my home and expect mercy?”
“I didn’t come for mercy,” Axton growled. “I came because the seer told me the truth. The curse cannot be broken without you. Our ancestors tied both our bloodlines to that treaty. Only together can we undo it.”
Daria laughed, sharp and humorless. “You demand my help? After all the blood your family spilled to keep us weak? After your father slaughtered my kin?”
“That was his sin, not mine!” Axton snapped, his voice cracking. “I’ve lost enough already. Don’t make me lose the rest.”
Her eyes softened for just a breath, but then she masked it with steel. “You will rot before I lift a finger for you.”
“Then your people will suffer too,” Axton said through clenched teeth. “The curse spreads. You think it will stop with my bloodline? You’re a fool if you do.”
The elders broke into shouts again, but Daria lifted her hand and the hall fell silent. She stared at him long and hard, then whispered, “Take him to the dungeons.”
The guards yanked Axton up. His knees scraped the stone as they dragged him away, his chest burning with helpless rage.
****
The dungeon stank of damp stone and rust. Chains clinked as Axton was thrown into the darkness, the iron bars slamming shut behind him. His hands still bled from Daria’s sword, his body ached from the guards’ fists, but his mind would not rest.
He paced like a caged wolf, sweat rolling down his temples. Sarah’s face haunted him. Every second here was another second closer to her death.
Hours passed, or maybe only minutes. Time was strange in the dark. Then—soft footsteps.
“Axton,” a whisper.
He froze. Malik slipped out of the shadows, cloak drawn tight. His loyal right hand.
“Malik?” Axton hissed, gripping the bars. “How did you get in?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Malik said quickly. His face was pale, his voice low. “It’s Sarah. She’s worse. Elder Lydia too. She’s fallen sick, same mark glowing on her neck.”
The words stabbed deeper than any blade. Axton staggered back, his knees buckling. “No… not Lydia too.”
Malik nodded grimly. “The curse spreads faster than we thought.”
Axton’s fists clenched so hard his nails cut into his palms. His breath came sharp, uneven. He couldn’t stay locked away while his people fell one by one.
He leaned closer, voice a harsh whisper. “Get me out.”
“Not yet,” Malik said. “Too many guards. We need a distraction.”
Axton’s eyes flickered, then hardened. Slowly, he slumped against the bars, his breathing shallow, his body going limp.
When the guards returned to check on him, one cursed. “He’s fainted.”
The other stepped closer, unlocking the gate.
Axton’s lips twitched in a faint smile. The game had begun.
- Writer
