The day of Axel von Vladimir's eighth birthday had arrived, a day that had been anticipated with both eagerness and dread. Eight years had passed since the cursed calamity shattered his family, leaving shadows where joy once thrived. The grand hall of the von Vladimir estate, adorned with shimmering decorations and flickering candles, was filled with the laughter of guests from noble houses—a stark contrast to the turmoil within Axel's heart.
As the guests arrived, the young master was greeted with a blend of warmth and veiled whispers. The ducal families—House Thorne, House Eldridge, House Verdant, and House Loria—had all sent their heirs. Lady Seraphina Thorne, with her fiery spirit, radiated a warmth that contrasted with the chill Axel felt. Cedric Eldridge, charming as the tides, exchanged pleasantries with hollow smiles, while Tobias Verdant observed with a wise, watchful gaze. Elara Loria, whose illusions danced in the air like butterflies, fluttered about, her laughter light yet tinged with an awareness of the darkness that loomed. But beneath the surface of this noble gathering lurked an undertow of disdain, a current that tugged at Axel's very soul.
Laughter echoed through the hall as the festivities began, yet Axel couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider in his own celebration. The glimmering lights that adorned the room felt like mocking stars, twinkling with a cruel reminder of his family's misfortune. Each cheerful voice around him only amplified his loneliness, a reminder that he was a mere shadow of what a true noble should be.
Then, the taint of malice struck. A count from a lesser house, emboldened by too much wine, dared to insult Axel in front of the gathered nobility. "Cursed child," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "You are the reason for your brother's death, an omen of misfortune." The words hung in the air like a thick fog, each syllable a dagger aimed at Axel's heart. The laughter and chatter of the hall dimmed, replaced by an uncomfortable silence that wrapped around him like a noose.
Though Axel wanted to dismiss the count's spiteful remarks, a chill slithered through him. The count's venomous words seemed to resonate with the unspoken thoughts of those around him, thoughts that Axel had long feared were also held by his parents. They echoed in his mind, gnawing at his resolve.
And then, the whispers came. Soft at first, like a breeze brushing against his ear, but growing louder with every heartbeat. It was his brother's voice, one he had tried so hard to forget. "Axel, let go," it urged, a haunting melody that sent shivers down his spine. In that moment, he could almost see his brother standing beside him, a guardian spirit urging him to embrace the power he had buried deep within.
Something inside him snapped. The dormant power he had struggled to suppress surged forth, uncontrollable and raw. The room dimmed, the lights flickering as shadows danced ominously along the walls. Axel felt a sense of exhilaration mixed with fear as he replicated the skill he had shared with his brother—an ability to manipulate everything; he controlled the light, turning the grand hall into a cavern of despair. A primal scream erupted from his lips, echoing like a beast unleashed.
***Axel's POV
My left hand transformed before my eyes, dark claws sprouting from my fingertips—sharp, deadly, and imbued with the anguish of years spent hiding my true nature. I watched in horror, my mind clear but my body no longer my own. I had become the embodiment of my family's curse.
The count's laughter faltered, confusion replacing his arrogance as the lights extinguished completely. A suffocating darkness enveloped the hall, and my claws scraped against the walls, a screeching sound that made everyone wince in fear. I could hear their gasps, the frantic rustle of silk and velvet as guests recoiled from the impending dread.
The heirs of the ducal families stood frozen, their expressions varying from shock to horror. Lady Seraphina's fiery spirit was snuffed out, her eyes wide with disbelief. Cedric Eldridge's charm melted away, replaced by a pallor that spoke of pure terror. Tobias Verdant, usually composed and wise, looked ready to spring into action, but the sheer chaos held him back. Elara Loria's illusions flickered and faded like the light itself, her grace shattered in the face of palpable dread.
My eyes locked onto the count, who stood frozen in shock. I advanced, and with a swift motion, I brought him down to his knees, robbing him of any chance to escape. The fear in his eyes ignited something within me, a dark satisfaction that I had never known before.
The first claw struck, tearing into his flesh with a sickening squelch. My senses heightened, the scent of iron filling the air as I reveled in the agony that twisted his features. The count's scream pierced the darkness, a sound that was both a lament and a warning, echoing through the hall as I felt the thrill of power surge through me. I could hear the gasps of the guests, their shock morphing into horror as I consumed the count's terror.
With each subsequent strike, I felt myself slipping further away from the boy I once was. The count writhed beneath my claws, his attempts to escape only fueling my rage. I tore into his flesh again, savoring the way his blood sprayed against the cold stone floor, each droplet a testament to the vengeance I had long suppressed. I felt the warmth of his life force seeping away, a vivid reminder of the pain I had endured.
Next, I ripped away his sight, ensuring he would see nothing but darkness as I slowly dismantled him piece by piece. The squelching sound of muscle tearing and sinew snapping filled the air, mingling with the muffled gasps of the guests who trembled at the spectacle before them. I could feel their hearts racing, their fear feeding my insatiable hunger for retribution. Each movement was a dance of retribution, a horrific ballet of pain that I orchestrated with an unsettling calm.
The hall became a canvas, painted with the echoes of his screams and the sound of flesh tearing. I felt the rush of power, the thrill of vengeance, until finally, I watched him succumb to the void of death. My claws sank deep into his chest, feeling the last tremors of life fade beneath my touch, my senses alight with the cacophony of his final breaths. I was left with a grotesque satisfaction, my claws stained with his essence, a mark of my awakening.
And just like that, the chaos subsided. The berserk rage that had consumed me flickered away, leaving me breathless and hollow. The hall was silent, save for the distant echoes of my own heartbeat. I had unleashed my curse, and in doing so, I had crossed a line from which there was no return.
In that moment of devastation, I could only wonder: had I truly celebrated my birthday, or had I instead awakened a monster within? The identities of the noble heirs blurred in the darkness, their faces etched with shock and horror, a reflection of the monster I had become.