The Last Heir of the Blood Throne

"Hurry up, you bastard! Nail his wrists! Pour the molten iron until it fuses with his bones!" Duke Vane's shouting echoed throughout the Aethelgard Throne Room. Crimson light from the eclipse pierced through the stained glass, illuminating the center of the room directly. Wilhelm Falkenrath stifled a scream. Boiling metal had just been poured through his bound wrists. The stench of burning flesh immediately drifted strong in the air. The prince sat limp atop his father's Obsidian Throne. Both of his hands were now nailed dead to the throne's stone armrests. He could not move in the slightest. "Did you think you were clever, Wilhelm?" Duke Vane stepped forward. His military boots clattered loudly on the marble floor. The old man held the Hemocryst dagger. Its blade glowed bright red. Wilhelm stared at his uncle with ragged breaths. Blood flowed heavily from his hands. The pain gradually blurred his vision. "This kingdom... will never bow to you, Vane," Wilhelm whispered hoarsely. Vane scoffed in mock laughter. All around them, black-armored guards stood like statues. "In reality, your subjects do not care. They only bow to whoever holds control over alchemy," Vane hissed. He grabbed Wilhelm's jaw tightly. The tip of the Hemocryst dagger was pressed right beneath Wilhelm's right eyelid. The dagger's magic emitted a cold frost that pierced his eyeball. "You always looked at the future of this kingdom with your righteous eyes. Tonight, I take that vision from you." Without warning, Vane plunged the dagger deep into Wilhelm's eye socket. Excruciating pain exploded in Wilhelm's head. He screamed hysterically as his right eye was gouged out by force. Fresh blood sprayed forth, soaking the throne stone. His right eye's vision turned completely blind in an instant. Vane flicked the blood off his dagger onto the floor, then wiped it clean with a handkerchief. The old man smiled with satisfaction. "One eye is enough to watch your family fall into ruin," Vane said, turning his back. Wilhelm collapsed weakly. His head hung limp. Blood from his eye and wrists kept dripping onto the floor. The molten iron, beginning to solidify, had now locked both of his hands permanently. The sound of footsteps approached. Several nobles entered the room. Without hesitation, they immediately bowed in respect to Duke Vane, the very people who once bowed to Wilhelm's father. "Clean this place up after the eclipse ends. Let him bleed to death in that chair," Vane commanded. "Understood, Your Highness." The nobles and guards walked out. The throne room fell silent once more. Now, only the sound of Wilhelm's blood dripping onto the stone floor could be heard. Wilhelm tried to move his fingers. Agony instantly tore through his chest. The muscles and blood vessels in his hands had been destroyed by the hot iron. "Argh!" he groaned softly. Outside the palace, the cheers of Vane's troops were faintly audible. The m******e of the royal family was taking place across every corner of the city. With his one remaining eye, Wilhelm stared at the window. The red light of the eclipse made the puddle of his blood on the floor look even denser. His heart pounded wildly. The alchemy from the Obsidian Throne seemed to react with his blood, triggering a magic resistance within Wilhelm's body. "I cannot die here," Wilhelm muttered. Rustle. A faint friction sound came from the ceiling. A figure dressed in black leaped down silently, landing lightly right in Wilhelm's puddle of blood. A woman dressed entirely in black stood before him. She held two metal-cutting daggers. "Good to see you are still breathing, Prince," the woman whispered. Wilhelm recognized her voice. Isadora Bellmont. The leader of the exiled spy faction, who should have been an enemy to his kingdom. "What are you doing here?" Wilhelm whispered hoarsely. Isadora ignored the question. She walked behind the throne and examined the iron nails in Wilhelm's hands. "This coup is not over if you are still alive." She activated her alchemy cutter. The tip of the tool sprayed a hot blue flame. Isadora immediately pressed it against the nail in Wilhelm's left hand. Pain tortured Wilhelm's nerves once more as the iron was cut by force. He bit his lip until it bled to refrain from screaming. "Endure the pain. That is, if you still intend to take revenge," Isadora urged. "Just do it quickly," Wilhelm grumbled. Isadora chuckled softly. Clang! The first nail snapped. Wilhelm's left hand was freed and immediately hung limp. Isadora moved to his right hand. "Who told you about this place?" Wilhelm asked, holding his breath. "Someone collecting a blood promise from you," Isadora replied while cutting the second nail. Sparks of blue flame stung Wilhelm's skin. The smell of burning flesh filled the air once again. "What blood promise do you mean?" Wilhelm's voice trembled. "Your father handed over all secret kingdom data to our group before Vane attacked," Isadora answered plainly. "There was only one condition: I must ensure you live." "Father... already knew?" Wilhelm's left eye widened. "Believe it or not, the King already knew Vane would commit treason tonight." Clang! The right nail finally snapped. Wilhelm collapsed forward immediately. Isadora quickly caught his shoulders to keep him from hitting the floor. "Do not die just yet. Vane's guards could return at any moment," Isadora whispered as she pulled Wilhelm's arm over her shoulder. Wilhelm forced himself to stand. His head spun violently. Blood kept flowing from his empty right eye socket. "I can walk on my own," Wilhelm refused, even though his legs trembled. "Do not be stubborn. One of your eyes is ruined and your hands are crippled," Isadora retorted sharply. Isadora guided Wilhelm away from the throne. She pressed a stone carving on the back room wall. The wall shifted, revealing a dark underground secret passage that smelled of earth. "Get in. This is an underground escape route," Isadora ordered. Wilhelm looked back, staring at his father's throne which was now soaked in blood. "Vane will pay for this with his life," Wilhelm hissed sharply. "Hold onto your grudge. We must get out of here alive," Isadora replied, pushing Wilhelm inside. The stone door closed again, right as the sound of marching soldiers was heard entering the throne room. Inside the dark passage, Wilhelm leaned against the stone wall. "Where are we going?" "To the Shadowed Crow hideout outside the city limits," replied Isadora, who walked ahead. "Only there can you find an alchemist who can stop the decay of your wounds." The blood on Wilhelm's face was beginning to dry and felt stiff. "Who is this alchemist?" "Someone who can give you a new eye. Though... the process will make you beg for death," Isadora answered nonchalantly. Wilhelm clenched his fists. He did not care how agonizing the process would be. "Just do it, as long as I can see again," Wilhelm pressed. Isadora smiled faintly in the darkness. "Of course. Starting tomorrow, you are no longer a prince. You are a ghost who will hunt down the traitors of Aethelgard." The sudden barking of tracking hounds echoed from above the passage. Heavy, repeated battering sounded against the secret door. Dust fell down upon them. "They found the door!" Isadora urged. She pulled Wilhelm's cloak forcibly. "Run, Wilhelm! If those dogs catch up, we are finished here!"