Shadow of the Moon

Chapter 12

Kyros

I sprinted across the border, my lungs burning, my legs aching. But the exertion was nothing compared to the ache in my chest, the sound of Estellas pain in her voice that still rang in my ears. I saw her face, contorted in grief, her tears mingling with Astra's blood, and a wave of fury washed over me. I would find the one responsible for this. I would make them pay.



The ground blurred beneath my feet, the familiar landscape of Eloria a stark contrast to the shadowy realm I had just left. The air was thick with the scent of dust and sand, the silence broken only by the pounding of my own footsteps and the whisper of the wind. I pushed myself harder, my muscles screaming in protest, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

I couldn't shake the feeling that this attack was somehow connected to my father. A soldier wouldn't cross the border without King Phoenix's knowledge, not with the current tensions between our worlds. Had my father ordered this?

Had he sent an assassin to eliminate the princesses of Tenebris? No one knew of Estella, let alone her twin. There was no possible way that he knew about her. The thought made my blood run cold.

Then, I heard it. The scream, a high-pitched wail of pure agony, that echoed across the distance, piercing the silence of the desert. I stumbled, my heart clenching in my chest. I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that Astra was gone.

The vibrant, mischievous twin, the one who had teased me and challenged me and welcomed me into her world, was gone. I wanted to turn around, to go to Estella and offer her comfort. But I knew that was not possible. Not yet anyways.

I gritted my teeth, my resolve hardening. I would find the attacker. I would avenge Astra's death. And I would protect Estella, no matter what the cost. I needed to talk to my mother, if father was making moves then she needed to know.

I burst through the grand doors of the throne room, my chest heaving, my heart pounding. I had raced through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle, my mind a whirlwind of fear and anger. The throne room, usually bustling with activity, was eerily silent.

Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting long, colorful shadows across the polished marble floor. Two imposing thrones, carved from obsidian and adorned with intricate silver filigree, sat atop a raised dais at the far end of the hall. King Phoenix occupied one, his expression cold and impassive. The other was unusually empty. She should have been here. She said she would be in the throne room the whole day today.

“Where was my mother?” I asked, my voice was harsh. I forced composure as I raised my chin, slipping on the mask of the heir of the sun.

Beside the King, a sinister smile twisting his lips, stood Raedon. My blood ran cold. My brothers presence here, in this place of power, could only mean trouble.

“Don’t worry about that,” Raedon said, his voice dripping with malice. He nodded to someone behind me and before I could utter a word, guards materialized from the shadows, their movements swift and silent. They lunged at me, their arms pinning me to the ground.

Fire welled in my palms, surging up my arms towards the hands that held me, but it was no use. The click of the iron shackles echoed in the room and my fire died instantly. It was like someone threw a bucket of water on my soul. It was suffocating. The cold metal bit into my skin, drawing blood as I fought against the guards.

They were strong, but they were humans. I bared my teeth and fought against them, getting one foot beneath me, but more guards appeared, pulling the chains out to the side and attaching them to the walls. I was pulled, my arms threatening to pull out of sockets at how taught I was being held.

One of the guards sent a fist into my stomach, knocking the air from my lungs as I watched Raedon approach. He held that wicked sharp knife he was obsessed with, its blade glinting in the sunlight. I bared my teeth in a snarl, a growl building in my throat. Raedon struck me, his fist connecting with my face, crunching my nose.

“Alive, Raedon,” the King's voice boomed through the hall, shattering the tense silence. “He needs to remain alive.”

Raedon's smile widened, and he leaned closer to me, the knife tracing a path across my brow. “Don't worry, brother,” he whispered, his voice laced with malice. “This will only hurt a little,”

“I will kill you,” I spat. And with that, the torture began.

The pain was excruciating, a searing agony that tore through my body, wave after wave. Raedon, fueled by his twisted sense of vengeance, relished in my suffering, his laughter echoing through the silent hall. I refused to utter a single sound of pain, refusing to give him the satisfaction.