The Blood on the Wall
1002 Words
Chapter 5
The four words, written in blood, echoed through the great hall.
"She knows the truth."
No one spoke.
The servants exchanged frightened glances before quietly stepping back. Even Commander Garrick's face had lost its color while Rhyven's expression turned colder.
"Prepare my horse."
"My lord?" Garrick blinked.
"We are going to the prison."
"It's almost midnight."
"Then the killer expects us to wait until morning."
Rhyven's gray eyes hardened.
"I won't."
Less than thirty minutes later, torches flickered against the towering walls of the Royal Prison.
Rain had begun to fall.
The storm clouds swallowed the moon, leaving the prison wrapped in darkness.
The heavy iron gates groaned open as Rhyven rode in, Vespera seated behind him.
Every guard immediately lowered their heads.
"My Lord Blackthorn."
Rhyven didn't respond.
His eyes swept across the courtyard.
Too quiet.
Prisons were never this quiet.
Inside the warden's office, the smell was the first to hit them.
Blood.
Fresh blood.
The room was in ruins.
Books lay scattered across the floor. A shattered lantern rested beside an overturned desk.
The prison warden hung from a rope tied to the ceiling beam. His lifeless eyes stared at nothing.
Blood covered the stone wall behind him.
There, written in trembling letters, was Vespera's name.
And beneath it...
SHE KNOWS THE TRUTH.
Vespera stopped breathing.
"No..."
She had known Warden Ellis.
Not well enough but during her three years in prison, he had never once beaten her instead he had always looked guilty whenever he brought her food.
As if he wanted to say something.
Now...
He was dead.
Commander Garrick approached the body.
"The rope..."
He frowned.
"This isn't right."
Rhyven looked at him.
"What do you see?"
"The knot."
Garrick pointed toward the back of the warden's neck.
"A man doesn't tie a knot like this if he hangs himself."
Rhyven stepped closer.
His fingers examined the rope. Then he looked at the bruises around the dead man's wrists.
"They restrained him first."
Vespera swallowed.
"So, he didn't kill himself."
Rhyven's voice was calm.
"He was murdered. And then staged to look like suicide."
Someone wanted everyone to believe the last witness had chosen death.
But the evidence told another story.
"Search every room."
Rhyven's command echoed through the prison as the guards scattered immediately.
Vespera slowly walked around the office.
Something felt wrong.
Her eyes drifted toward the fireplace.
The ashes were unusually thick. She crouched beside it and among the gray ash, something reflected the torchlight.
A small silver key.
She reached for it.
"What are you doing?" Rhyven asked.
She held it up.
"This wasn't here by accident."
The key was warm.
Almost as if it had only recently been thrown into the fire.
Rhyven took it from her.
Engraved into its surface was a single number.
17.
"What does it open?" Garrick wondered.
Before anyone could answer, a guard came running into the office.
"My lord!"
"What is it?"
"We found a hidden corridor beneath the prison."
Everyone froze.
"A hidden corridor?"
"Yes, my lord."
"It was concealed behind a collapsed wall."
Rhyven looked at Vespera.
"You never mentioned it."
She frowned.
"I didn't know there was one."
He believed her.
For the first time since they met, he actually believed her.
The corridor was narrow.
Ancient.
Dust covered every stone and judging by the cobwebs, it hadn't been used in years.
Or so it seemed.
Rhyven knelt near the entrance.
"There."
Fresh footprints.
Someone had walked through here recently.
Very recently.
He lit another torch.
"I'll go first."
Garrick stepped forward.
"My lord, let me."
"No."
"If it's a trap—"
"Then I would rather spring it than send another man to die."
The commander reluctantly nodded.
The passage stretched deep beneath the prison.
Water dripped from the ceiling. The air smelled damp.
No one spoke.
The only sound was the echo of their footsteps.
After several minutes, they reached an old iron door.
Rust covered its surface.
A large lock hung from the handle.
Rhyven looked at the silver key.
Number Seventeen.
Without a word, he inserted it into the lock.
Click.
The door slowly creaked open.
Inside it was a small stone chamber that was empty.
Or so it appeared.
Until Vespera noticed the wall.
There, hundreds of names had been carved into the stone.
Some were faded while others looked recent.
She slowly stepped closer.
"What is this?"
Garrick read a few aloud.
"Maren..."
"Edric..."
"Lysa..."
None of the names meant anything.
Then Vespera's eyes landed on one near the center and her knees nearly gave out because carved deeper than all the others were two words.
Vespera Nyx.
Her name.
And directly beneath her own name, another had been added.
Caelan Volaris.
The Crown Prince.
She reached out with trembling fingers.
The instant her skin touched the carved letters, another memory crashed into her mind.
A cold underground room.
Chains.
The Crown Prince standing before her with his face pale while his voice sounded urgent.
"Listen to me, Vespera... if they catch us together, they will kill us both."
Her eyes flew open.
She staggered backward.
"No..."
Rhyven caught her before she fell.
"What did you remember?"
She looked at him, terrified.
"I..."
Her lips trembled.
"I knew him."
The room fell silent.
Garrick stared at her.
"You knew the Crown Prince?"
She nodded slowly.
"But..."
Tears filled her eyes.
"I don't remember why."
Before anyone could speak, a low grinding sound echoed through the chamber.
Rhyven's instincts screamed.
"Get back!"
Too late.
The stone door behind them slammed shut with a thunderous crash making the torches flickered violently.
A voice echoed from somewhere beyond the walls.
Cold and mocking.
"I was wondering how long it would take you to find my little secret."
Vespera's blood turned to ice.
She recognized that voice.
Not from the prison nor was it from today but from three years ago.
The night her life was destroyed.
And the voice whispered the same words again.
"Welcome back... Princess."
- Writer
