"You are going to stay in the palace from now on," King Mortifer said, his frail hand trembling slightly as it reached to steady Tenebrarum's face, his eyes still burning with authority despite the weight of age and illness. "I will prepare a grand ball for you… so that the nobles may witness their soon-to-be king. And you shall have… any number of wives, to your satisfaction."
Tenebrarum's black hair fell forward, the streak of red catching the dying light, framing his pale, perfect features. He bowed slightly, disciplined, measured, every breath and movement betraying nothing yet commanding everything.
A bitter laugh cut through the tension. "Wow, great," Kelen spat, voice sharp, dripping with envy. "A ball for him. Every eye on him… and what of us? Always forgotten, always shadows to his light."
The chamber seemed to shiver with the weight of his words. Every brother's eyes flicked nervously between the King and Tenebrarum, aware of the silent but palpable threat in the air.
Tenebrarum's gaze shifted slowly to Kelen, dark, unreadable behind the mask, lips curving into a faint, dangerous smirk. "Then perhaps," he said, voice calm but ice-sharp, "you will learn what it means to be seen… when the crown finally chooses its heir."
The air tightened. Every inhale felt thick, almost painful, as though the room itself held its breath. Kelen's smirk faltered.
"Maybe," Kaelen's voice rang next, sharp and loud, edged with suppressed fury, "I will be a better king than you, perhaps."
The words hung in the room like a gauntlet thrown. Kaelen's shoulders were squared, fists clenched, every movement radiating raw ambition and unyielding pride. He was the next strongest after Tenebrarum, and he knew it.
"You think I wouldn't? I'm sure I can't give even twenty bags of silver to buy a noble, but you gave a hundred to buy a human," Kaelen continued, venom dripping from every syllable. "Surely… you are the best king."
The chamber froze. Even the King and the two brothers in the room flinched slightly at the audacity.
Tenebrarum's dark eyes fixed on Kaelen, unmoving, unblinking, and the room seemed to shrink under his presence. Without warning, he stepped forward, and with a subtle flick of his wrist, Kaelen's head jerked back violently, a spray of crimson bursting from his lips. Blood splattered across his chin, staining his hands as he tried to wipe it away.
Kaelen coughed violently, tasting iron, struggling to regain composure, but Tenebrarum didn't stop. With another measured movement, his fingers brushed the air, and Kaelen's knees buckled. He stumbled backward, tripping over the rug, blood now dripping freely, soaking the floor beneath him. His fists pounded against the marble in a futile attempt to push Tenebrarum away, but it was useless—he was utterly powerless.
"Do you feel it?" Tenebrarum's voice was low, smooth, each word a whip against the trembling prince. "This… is what happens when you forget your place."
Kaelen gagged, another spurt of blood bursting from his mouth as he coughed, staining the front of his tunic. He clutched at his throat, terror finally breaking through his arrogance.
The other brothers recoiled, some instinctively stepping back, one frozen, eyes wide in disbelief.
Mortifer's frail body trembled on the bed, hand twitching, powerless to intervene.
Tenebrarum didn't rush. He walked forward slowly, boots clicking against the marble, and Kaelen could feel the heat of his aura pressing against him, crushing, suffocating. Another spurt of blood hit the floor as Tenebrarum's hand moved slightly—just enough to remind him that his life hung by the prince's whim alone.
"You presume to question me… to mock me?" Tenebrarum whispered, leaning close. Kaelen's vision blurred, a mix of fear, shame, and pain twisting through him. "You dare challenge the heir ?"
Another cough. Another spray of blood. Kaelen collapsed fully to his knees, chest heaving, the metallic taste of life on his tongue. His pride, his rage, his ambition—all drowned in the crimson tide that Tenebrarum had summoned with nothing but intent and presence.
Tenebrarum finally straightened, letting the aura ease just enough to allow Kaelen to breathe, though his body still shook violently, blood dripping from his lips and staining the marble. Every brother in the room knew: no one could oppose Tenebrarum and survive unscathed.
The prince's gaze returned to King Mortifer, the chamber heavy with the scent of iron and fear, leaving Kaelen gasping, broken, a bloody testament to Tenebrarum's merciless authority.
"Leave, three of you!" Tenebrarum's command cut through the room like a whip.
Rhazor and Magnus immediately seized Kaelen, dragging him toward the door. Kaelen stumbled, blood still dripping from his split lip, his hands scrabbling against the floor as his body was yanked along. Each step was agony; the sharp scrape of his knees against the cold stone made him howl, but Tenebrarum didn't flinch.
The chamber fell silent, save for Kaelen's muttered curses and the distant echo of his ragged breaths.
He stepped closer to the King's bed, black hair falling forward, the streak of red irises catching the dim light like fire.
King Mortifer, lying weakly on the bed, lifted a trembling hand. "Tenebrarum," he said, his voice frail yet commanding, "power is not only measured in blood spilled. Control… control is what marks a true king. Sometimes fools need to bleed in silence. Do not waste your wrath on every insult. Hold it… temper it… let it strike only when it serves."
King Mortifer's frail hand rested on Tenebrarum's shoulder. "Control it. Not every fool needs to see your strength."
Tenebrarum's black hair fell forward, red streak of hair catching the dying light.
"This is why I want you to marry Matrona," King Mortifer said, his frail hand brushing Tenebrarum's shoulder, steadying more than just the boy before him.
"She has a calm spirit… but do not mistake gentleness for weakness. She will bend, willingly or not, under your shadow. Every glance, every breath, every heartbeat—will answer to you. Her fortune, her life, her soul… all will belong to the one who wears the crown. And that, Tenebrarum, is you."
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To be continued...