Episode 08 - Revelation
1547 Words
Dreadmour stood tall at the end of the table, his eyes sharp as he looked at everyone present.
“Do you know why we came here ourselves to speak to all of you? Thalor! Elaria! Do you know?” Dreadmour asked, his tone harsh.
Thalor and Elaria exchanged glances, then answered in unison.
“Yes, we know… but—”
“No buts!” Vyrelith cut in sharply.
“I’ve warned you both countless times, from when Leona was a child until now. Don’t spoil her too much. But look at what you’ve done. You listen to her every word!”
The atmosphere in the meeting room grew tense. Leona lowered her gaze slightly, trying to grasp what was happening. Dreadmour raised his hand, signaling everyone to be silent.
“Let me be the one to tell Leona.”
He turned to his granddaughter.
"Leona, listen carefully. Starting today, you must stop your studies. I want you to stay home and train in self-defense.”
Leona was stunned.
“Why do I have to stop studying? I don’t want to,” she replied, her voice trembling.
“With your father, you can argue. But with me—don’t expect to challenge anything I say,” Dreadmour replied, his tone firm and absolute.
Leona tried to hold her ground.
“But Grandpa… I already know self-defense. Mom sent me to taekwondo classes before.”
Vyrelith interjected, her eyes sharp.
“Fine. If you can defeat your brother Kaizer… you may continue studying at your campus as usual. But if you lose, you follow every instruction we give. Understand?”
Leona bit her lip.
“But Grandma… why does it have to be this extreme?”
The room fell silent for a moment.
Don Thalor slowly stood up. He walked to the corner of the room and picked up a wooden box, bringing it over to Leona. Leona looked at the box, puzzled. Thalor opened the lid.
Leona froze.
Inside the box—was a severed human hand, still bloody, placed deliberately. Beside it were photos of Leona at campus, taken from multiple angles. And beneath the photos, a letter. Thalor handed the letter to Leona. His hand trembled slightly. Leona opened the letter slowly.
Inside, her full name was written:
Leona Virelle Velmonthe and one chilling sentence that made her blood run cold:
"I’ve found your weakness, Velmonthe. The only female heir you’ve been hiding all this time.”
The message was filled with terrifying threats. Leona gripped the letter tightly. Her eyes began to well with tears. And that night… she realized the outside world had begun knocking on her family’s door.
Dreadmour looked directly at Leona.
“Tomorrow, you’re not going to campus. You’re going to fight Kaizer,” he said, his voice cold and commanding.
Leona slowly turned toward Kaizer. Kaizer looked back at her. He saw his sister’s face—too sad, eyes glassy, lips trembling. Before he could say a word—
“Kaizer,” Dreadmour cut in, his tone sharp.
“Don’t go easy on her just because she’s your sister. You must defeat her. I don’t want you feeling sorry for her.”
Kaizer lowered his head slightly, holding back his emotions.
“Understood, Grandpa,” Kaizer replied quietly.
Leona remained silent.
She knew… tomorrow wouldn’t just be a physical fight. Tomorrow would be the real test—of who she truly was in the Velmonthe family.
The next morning.
The sky was overcast. The morning air felt heavy, as if the world itself sensed something monumental was about to unfold.
At the Velmonthe family training arena, everyone was already in place. Dreadmour stood tall on the wooden platform, surveying the scene. Vyrelith sat in her designated chair, arms crossed, her expression cold and unreadable. Don Thalor and Elaria stood by the edge of the arena with their sons—Lucien, Darian, Evren, Riven, and Thorne. Kaizer was already in the center of the ring, dressed in black training gear, calm but tense. But Leona… was nowhere to be seen. She had been in the bathroom for nearly three hours.
Inside the east wing’s grand marble restroom, Leona stood frozen before the mirror. Her face was pale. Her eyes were red from lack of sleep. The threat from last night still haunted her—the severed hand, the photos, the letter. That final line echoed in her mind:
“I’ve found your weakness, Velmonthe.”
Her grip tightened on the sink. Her breathing was shallow. She tried to inhale deeply, but her chest felt tight. Her hands trembled. Her heart raced.
“I don’t care if I lose…” she whispered.
“I can’t fight Kaizer. He’s too strong. There’s no way I’ll win.”
She tried to smile, but it broke halfway.
“I’m not like them. I’m not a fighter. I’m just… I’m just Leona.”
Her knees buckled slightly. Her vision blurred. Suddenly, blood began to drip from her nose. She gasped, trying to wipe it away, trying to stay calm—but her body was shutting down. Her breath shortened. Her legs gave out. And slowly, silently, Leona collapsed onto the cold marble floor.
Outside, Thorne knocked on the bathroom door for the third time.
“Leona! Everyone’s waiting! Kaizer’s already in the ring!”
No response.
Thorne turned to Darian, concern creeping into his voice.
“You think she’s okay?”
Darian shrugged, but his eyes betrayed his worry.
“I don’t like it when Leona goes quiet like this.”
Don Thalor, overhearing from a distance, began walking toward the bathroom. He knocked again, this time harder.
“Leona, sweetheart… open the door. It’s Dad.”
Still nothing.
Without waiting, Thalor pushed the door open—it wasn’t locked and there she was. Leona lay unconscious on the floor, her nose bloodied, her skin pale as snow.
“Leona!” Thalor shouted, dropping to his knees and cradling her head.
Elaria rushed in, followed by Vyrelith, who paused at the doorway, her expression shifting ever so slightly.
“She’s fainted,” Elaria said, voice trembling.
Dreadmour entered slowly, his gaze sharp but composed.
“Take her to the recovery room. When she wakes up… the fight still happens.”
No one dared to argue and deep within Leona’s unconscious mind, a voice stirred.
“I won’t win… but I won’t run.”
In a few hours later
Leona slowly opened her eyes. The bright light of the recovery room stung her vision. Her breathing was shallow, her body heavy. But the voices around her began to sharpen.
> “Leona… Leona!” Thorne’s voice, panicked.
“She’s awake!” Evren shouted.
In an instant, all her brothers surrounded the bed. Darian held her hand, Riven wrapped an arm around her shoulder, Lucien leaned close, and Kaizer stood nearest, his face filled with worry.
“Are you okay?” Kaizer asked softly, his voice trembling.
Leona tried to smile, but her tears fell first.
“I’m sorry… I caused trouble for everyone.”
Kaizer shook his head and, without a word, pulled her into a tight embrace. One by one, the others followed, holding their sister who had just returned from the edge.
But then Vyrelith’s voice cut through the moment.
“What was that? Trying to kill yourself? You’re completely immature. Unfit to be a Velmonthe!”
Silence fell.
Leona lowered her gaze, unable to respond.
“Once you recover, the fight will proceed,” Vyrelith said firmly, her tone devoid of sympathy.
Don Thalor stepped forward.
“Mother… you don’t have to push her like this. Maybe there’s another way.”
Elaria added, her voice gentle but resolute.
“It’s impossible. Kaizer would never hit his beloved little sister.”
Kaizer turned to his grandmother, his eyes sharp.
“I won’t hit her. I won’t do that.”
Vyrelith scoffed.
“If you can’t do it, then you’re not fit to be a Velmonthe either.”
Leona closed her eyes. And in the darkness of her thoughts, a memory surfaced.
Flashback – Years Ago
Little Leona sat on the back steps of the house, crying over a scraped knee. Kaizer, twelve years old at the time, came over with an ice pack and a box of plasters.
“Don’t cry. You’re strong,” he said, gently wiping the blood from her knee.
“I’m scared,” young Leona replied.
Kaizer smiled and hugged her.
“If you’re scared, I’ll be here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Leona opened her eyes again. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Kaizer… I know you won’t hit me. But I’ll still fight. I want to prove I’m not weak.”
Kaizer looked at her, eyes glistening.
“If you want to fight… I’ll fight. But I won’t hit you to win. I’ll fight to help you become stronger.”
Dreadmour entered the room, his gaze sweeping across them all.
“Then tomorrow. In the arena. No mercy. No exceptions.”
Leona gripped the blanket tightly.
“I’ll be there. This time… I won’t run.”
To be continued...
- Writer
