Acheron
We were so close. Days—mere days—stood between me and the ritual. Between me and perfection. Audra had to be moved. Secured. Guarded. I wouldn't allow anything to interfere. Not when I had spent decades preparing for this moment. Not when her power was finally within my grasp. Sylvin told me he watched her by the koi pond yesterday. The water had risen—healed her hands. That damn sea witch. I clenched my jaw, my fingers twitching with suppressed fury. That wasn't supposed to happen. The pain was meant to keep her weak, to ensure she wouldn't dare fight back. Nixthul was a pain, she kept interfering. Fine. I would simply have to adjust. Increase her dosage, dull her connection to magic entirely. Perhaps I shouldn't have killed Luna—she had been my most talented doctor, after all. But no, no—that deceitful little wretch had deserved it. A traitor, through and through. My power surged hot and wild beneath my skin, a seething inferno demanding destruction. I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to calm. Soon. Very soon. A smirk curled at my lips as I licked them, savoring the anticipation. My plan was nearly complete. And then—then we could be together again. The thought of it sent a shiver through me. Audra was the key, she is the reason we will succeed, after decades of failed victims, she was the one. I could feel it. My boots echoed down the bright hallway as I strode toward my bedroom. Without hesitation, I pushed open the heavy doors, stepping inside. She stirred at the sound, sitting up, her drowsy confusion shifting to wary alertness. Perfect. Before she could react, I stalked over taking hold of her wrist. She sucked in a sharp gasp of pain, my hand touching her delicate, burned skin. Her lips parted, her eyes widening—whether from the lingering ache or the shock of my sudden grasp, I didn't care. I devoured the moment. "Where, . . . Where are we going?" she asked breathlessly, her voice tinged with apprehension. I barely spared her a glance. "Home." That was all she needed to know. I flicked my wrist slightly opening a gate. It swallowed us whole, the world twisting for a brief moment before we emerged within the familiar damp corridors of my castle. The air was cool, thick with the scent of aged stone and lingering embers. The flames from the torches cast shadows on the floor as I dragged her forward, my grip firm but controlled. Can I trust her? The thought slithered into my mind like a viper. Had Nixthul told her anything? Had she pieced together the truth? No. She wouldn't have. Not yet. I cast her a sidelong glance, debating. Bedroom or cell? A rare flicker of indulgence surfaced. This was her final stretch of days, after all. A last kindness before the inevitable. We wound up the stairs my hold on her never wavered. She trudged along behind me dragging her feet for fear of what was to come. We finally reached my room. The dark atmosphere comforted me. With ease, I threw open the door and lifted her into my arms, her body stiff against mine as I tossed her onto the bed, she bounced slightly before settling, her breath unsteady, her limbs trembling. Her wide, uncertain eyes locked onto mine, glistening with unshed tears. Fear. Sweet, raw fear. My smirk deepened. "Don't worry, princess," I murmured, my voice dripping with mock reassurance. I leaned in just enough to watch her shiver. "I won't kill you. Not here, anyway." A small, sharp intake of breath—so slight I nearly missed it. "Stay put if you know what's good for you." I straightened, flicking my gaze toward the door. "Sylvin will be right outside." She gave a single, reluctant nod. Smart girl. With that, I left. The moment I stepped into the corridor, a deep satisfaction settled in my chest. Everything was falling into place. As I walked, I allowed my mind to wander, my footsteps guiding me toward the throne room. My castle—the heart of my power—stood tall and unwavering, its dark stone walls stretching high, the torches casting restless, flickering shadows. This was home. This was power. And just beyond it, the altar..I conjured another portal and stepped through, greeted by the sight of the storm-choked sky. The scent of wet earth and burning incense filled the air as servants bustled about, preparing for the ceremony that would reshape everything. At my presence, they halted, bowing in perfect unison. "Your Highness," they murmured, voices a synchronized reverence. I waved them off, my focus elsewhere. My eyes swept over the altar, the carved symbols lining the stone, the runes glowing faintly in the dim light. It was coming together. A masterpiece in the making. Satisfaction curled through me, a deep, dark pleasure. Soon. With a flick of my wrist, I tore open another portal, stepping back into my castle's grounds. The gardens stretched before me—vivid, alive, a stark contrast to the grim walls of my fortress. And then—her. Audra. My breath hitched before morphing into a low growl. She was there, standing by the koi pond, her delicate fingers weaving the water into intricate spirals. It danced around her as if rejoicing in her presence, healing, mending—undoing my work. Damn it all. I snapped my gaze to Sylvin, who stood a short distance away. "Sylvin!" My voice cut through the space between us, a sharp, demanding bark. He turned, his expression unreadable. "She wanted to see the garden," he said defensively, his posture rigid. I exhaled sharply, my frustration rolling off me in waves. He was too soft on her. Always had been. "You forget," I said slowly, deliberately, stepping closer. "She is our prisoner. She does not need the luxury of garden visits. Especially not when we are this close." His jaw tightened, but he gave a curt nod, moving toward Audra. She hesitated, casting one last glance at the water before allowing herself to be led away. I watched, my mind churning. She was getting to comfortable. That would change. Soon.
Audra's Pov
Acheron had moved me to a new location. This place was different—darker, heavier. I could only assume it was his castle. I had known he was the Fire King, but the sheer scale of it made my stomach twist. He had taken me to a new bedroom, one that was clearly his. Thick black curtains hung from the windows, sweeping onto polished dark stone tiles like shadows creeping across the floor. The walls were a deep crimson, the color of dried blood, framed by intricate dark oak wainscoting. The ceiling stretched high above me, exposed beams cutting across the dim light from the massive crystal chandelier overhead. Everything felt heavy, suffocating—like being trapped inside a beautiful, gilded cage. I sat on the bed, the duvet was soft and plush, I stared out the window, my mind running in circles. A dead forest stretched for miles, its gnarled, brittle trees withering under the oppressive heat of Acheron's domain. Beyond that, my gaze caught on a massive structure—a fortress with tall, looming towers. A chill ran down my spine. What is that? Hours passed. Maybe more. I wasn't sure. Time blurred here, lost in the eerie stillness of the castle. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. The silence was unbearable. I cracked the door open just enough to peek outside. Sylvin stood guard, arms crossed, his silver eyes dull with boredom. "Psst." I tried to get his attention. He snapped his head toward me, his expression shifting from disinterest to mild irritation. "What?" His voice was sharp, but not cruel. I grinned despite myself. "Is this castle's garden better than the last place?" Sylvin blinked, his brows pulling together slightly. "I guess," he muttered. "Can I see it?" I asked, feigning casual curiosity, though in truth, I just needed to feel something other than dread. Sylvin hesitated, glancing at his watch, then let out a slow exhale. "Yeah, I suppose. But only for a little bit." Relief bloomed in my chest as I stepped into the hall, stretching my stiff limbs. He led me downstairs and through a set of enormous doors, opening to the garden. It was breathtaking. Unlike the decayed forest beyond the castle walls, the garden was alive. Autumn flowers thrived in vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows, their petals shifting in the warm breeze. The trees stood tall, their leaves a blazing mix of gold and rust, like tiny fires swaying in the wind. And then, the pond. A large, pristine body of water stretched before us, reflecting the twilight sky. Fish of all kinds darted beneath the surface, their shimmering scales catching the afternoon sun. But no koi. My heart sank a little at that. I lowered myself onto the soft grass beside Sylvin, staring into the water as the silence stretched between us. Then, his voice broke through the stillness. "Hey, Audra?" Something in his tone made me look up. His expression was off—pained, like he was forcing himself to say something he didn't want to. "Happy early birthday." The words left his mouth like shattered glass—sharp, reluctant. I let out a breathless laugh, rolling my eyes as I plucked at the grass mindlessly. "Which one?" I asked sarcastically. But Sylvin didn't laugh. He just stared at me with something awful in his eyes—pity. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Your 18th." I froze. My fingers stilled against the grass. "Oh." It was all I could say. Eighteen. Had it really been almost two years? I would never get my driver's license. Never get married. Never have children. Never see my parents or Kai again. And Malik…
A sharp ache stabbed through my chest. I had never even dated him. I'd spent months dancing around my feelings, always too afraid to take the leap. We never even had a chance. A lump formed in my throat. I felt my hands moving before I realized what I was doing. The water from the pond rose to meet my fingertips, curling around them like a silent comfort. The coolness seeped into my skin, grounding me. Then— "Sylvin!" Acheron's voice cracked through the air like a whip, briefly shattering my thoughts. I barely registered what he had said, but I knew it meant time was up. Sylvin stood, his shoulders stiff, and nodded toward the castle. I followed him back, my feet dragging against the stone path. As we reached the doors, his voice softened. "I'm sorry, Audra. I... I shouldn't have brought it up." I swallowed hard. "How long?" I asked though I feared the answer. Sylvin hesitated. I saw his throat bob as he swallowed. "Two days." The air left my lungs. I had known, deep down, that my time was running out. But hearing it made it real.
Two days.
Two days until my birthday.
Two days until my death.
I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails biting into my palms as I forced the panic down. "I see," I murmured, staring at my feet. "Well. I guess that's it, then." Sylvin nodded. The air became heavy, like a thick cloud had suddenly invaded the castle, and neither of us spoke as he led me back inside.