Chapter 34: The Heir's Throne
The king was bound in chains.
Lysandra barely registered the gasps from their group. Her focus was locked on the man standing before them—the true heir of the throne.
He looked nothing like the ragged prisoner they had freed.
Dressed in black and silver, a high collar framing his sharp jaw, he stood tall with an aura of effortless power. His dark hair was slicked back, and his piercing silver eyes shimmered with an otherworldly glow.
The mist around him coiled like loyal hounds.
Jael took a step forward, shoulders squared. "What have you done?"
The heir tilted his head, an almost amused look crossing his face.
"I've reclaimed what was mine."
The King's Fall
Lysandra's gaze flicked to the throne—Jael's father, the king, was slumped against it.
His golden robes were torn, his crown missing. Heavy iron chains wound around his wrists and ankles, binding him to the seat of power he had stolen years ago.
The mighty king of Vareth… reduced to a prisoner in his own palace.
And yet—his eyes burned with fury, locked onto his son.
Jael's hands clenched into fists. "You didn't have to do this."
The heir let out a short, humorless laugh. "Didn't I?" His voice was laced with something cold, something old. "Tell me, Jael—if you were in my place, would you have simply walked into this palace and asked politely for my throne?"
Jael's jaw tightened.
The heir's silver eyes flicked to Lysandra. "And you. Shadow Beast."
Lysandra's breath caught.
He smiled, slow and knowing. "You feel it, don't you?"
Her stomach twisted.
Because she did.
The air hummed with something ancient, something deep within her blood. The mist, the curse, the darkness wrapping around the city—it called to her.
The heir took a single step forward, and the cursed civilians standing in the square moved in unison.
Like puppets.
Jael's sword was in his hand in an instant. "Let them go."
The heir sighed. "I'm afraid I can't do that. They are bound to me, just as I was bound to this fate." His silver eyes flashed. "But don't worry—I've left your dear father untouched. I wanted you to see him fall for yourself."
Jael lunged.
A Clash of Power
Sparks flew as Jael's blade met the heir's outstretched hand—except it wasn't steel against flesh. A barrier of mist rippled between them, stopping Jael mid-swing.
The heir's smirk deepened. "Predictable."
He flicked his wrist.
Jael was sent hurtling backward, skidding across the stone floor.
Lysandra moved before she could think. Shadows surged around her fingertips as she leapt between them, summoning the darkness within.
The heir's expression flickered—just for a moment.
Then, he raised his hand.
The mist responded instantly, forming jagged claws of darkness that shot toward her.
Lysandra dodged, barely avoiding the attack as she landed beside Jael.
"We can't fight him like this," she hissed.
Jael pushed himself up, wiping blood from his lip. "Then how do we stop him?"
The answer came before she could speak.
A low rumble shook the palace steps.
Lysandra turned just in time to see the king stir.
His voice, hoarse but filled with wrath, echoed across the square.
"You think you've won, boy?" The king lifted his head, his golden eyes gleaming with hatred. "You are nothing but a puppet of the past."
The heir stilled.
For the first time, something in his expression cracked.
And then—
The chains binding the king shattered.