Captured
1142 Words
Chapter three
“No one,” King Cedric declared, his voice cracking under a weight that did not belong on a king, “is taking my daughter.”
The hall froze. Even the candles stilled, their flames shrinking as though afraid.
Sorren took a single step forward.
Just one.
But that step rippled through the room with the force of a silent earthquake. Every guard staggered backward as if shoved by an invisible hand.
Queen Mirabel’s breath came out in a tremble. “Sorren,” she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. “Please… this is her birthday.”
Sorren did not spare her a glance. His eyes—deadly, depthless—remained fixed on Sarayah as if she were the only soul in the room worth acknowledging.
“Exactly,” he replied coolly. “And in Grimmoon law… an eighteenth princess is eligible.”
Eligible.
The word hit Sarayah like ice water down her spine. Eligible for what? She didn’t know. But the way he looked at her—like prey he’d been starved for, like something promised—made her legs weaken beneath the weight of his gaze.
“My brothers and I came for one thing tonight.”
A chilling silence wrapped the crowd, tightening like a noose.
Sorren’s next words dropped like a blade—
“We came for the princess.”
Sarayah’s breath shattered in her chest.
Her birthday. Her unveiling. The one day she thought would belong to her… had just been stolen.
“If you insist on taking her,” Lucia’s voice suddenly rang out, sharp and brave, “then you’ll have to take me along.”
Sarayah spun to her older sister, eyes wide. “Lucia—no—”
But Lucia stepped forward anyway, chin lifted in defiance.
Queen Mirabel broke.
“No… no, I cannot lose two daughters at the same time,” she sobbed, collapsing toward her children. “Please, please, this is madness—”
“We’ll give you anything,” King Cedric forced out. His voice shook, but he stood tall—or tried to. “Anything. Just name it. But don’t take my daughter.”
Rhett Nightclaw let out a low laugh from behind Sorren.
“Big mistake.”
His eyes flashed a violent, merciless shade of crimson as they locked on King Cedric.
Before anyone could understand what was happening, Cedric’s body jerked. Blood bubbled from his lips, then poured, foaming. He collapsed to the floor in a heavy, final thud.
Screams erupted.
“No… no—Cedric! Cedric!” Queen Mirabel shrieked, falling over his body. Her trembling hands cupped his face, desperately shaking him. “Open your eyes! Please!”
Sarayah didn’t remember falling to her knees, but she was there, shaking, sobbing, the world blurring into streaks of horror.
Crystal stood frozen, eyes wide and wet, unable to understand what she was seeing.
Lucia didn’t cry. Her face hardened instead—rage carving itself into her features. She would not cry. Not today. Not in front of monsters.
“Kyran,” Sorren said without emotion, “time up.”
And with that single command, he turned and walked away, the doors opening for him like the world itself bowed to his will.
Kyran and Rhett remained.
They had walked into Blacklily intending to take only one princess.
But now they had two.
They gathered their terrified prey and vanished into the night.
---
Grimmoon Crownlands.
City of cruelty.
Where foolishness died and wisdom grew from pain.
Where blood and passion mingled in the dirt.
Where the people walked half-naked, shameless and wild-eyed.
Where the law was simple:
Be the predator… or be the prey.
And this was the city Sarayah and her sisters were dragged into.
Their wrists were bound. Their dresses ripped from the struggle. Their tears dried to the cold winds that greeted them as they crossed Grimmoon’s brutal gates.
The moment they arrived, they were taken straight into Sorren’s ruling hall. A vast room of black stone and iron, lit with violet fire that cast monstrous shadows along the walls.
They were shoved forward. Sarayah hit the floor hard.
“O–ouu…” she whimpered, her knees scraping painfully against the cold stone. Blood smeared beneath her, but she barely felt it. Everything blurred. Everything hurt.
Lucia crawled toward her, pulling Sarayah and Crystal into her arms. They held each other tightly, three trembling hearts trying to beat as one.
“I see mother hen is still acting protective,” Kyran drawled mockingly. He tilted his head, his white hair falling over one eye. “Such a silly thought.”
Sorren’s boots clicked slowly against the stone as he approached. His gaze swept over the three sisters, assessing, judging, deciding.
He scoffed lightly.
“You will follow three rules if you wish to survive in my city,” he began.
His voice was emotionless. Regal. Deadly.
“Number one. You do as you’re told.”
Sarayah shivered.
“Number two. You listen to no one else but your assigned leader.”
Crystal swallowed painfully.
“Number three…” Sorren paused, his gaze slicing through them. “You obey rule two.”
Rhett rose from where he’d been sitting, cracking his knuckles with anticipation.
“I’ll be the first to leave,” he announced. “I need to prepare for tonight’s show. And I’m taking the third princess.”
Crystal froze.
“W-what? No—wait—please—”
But Rhett grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her away from her sisters.
“No—Crystal! Don’t take her!” Lucia lunged, but Kyran seized her arm and yanked her back.
“You monster! Let me go! Let her go!”
Smack.
Kyran’s slap sent Lucia crashing to the floor. She gasped, the world spinning.
“P-please,” Sarayah whispered, trembling, “please leave my sister alone…”
Sorren flicked his eyes toward Kyran.
“Take her away from here before I behead her myself,” he said casually. “I have no use for her.”
Kyran’s lips twisted into a sadistic grin. “As you wish, my king. She’s going to learn from the best.”
He grabbed Lucia without warning, throwing her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.
“SARAYAH! SARAYAH!” Lucia screamed, kicking, hitting his back with weak, desperate fists.
Her voice faded slowly as Kyran carried her away.
And then..
Silence.
Sarayah knelt alone on the cold stone floor, shaking violently. Her birthday—the day she was meant to reveal her face, to celebrate her freedom—had turned into a nightmare she could not wake from.
Sorren approached her at last. Slowly.
His eyes dragged over her face, over every trembling breath she took.
Sorren scoffed—slow, cold, cruel.
“Welcome,” he murmured, “to Grimmoon Crownlands.”
- Writer
