SERAPHINE SHADEWALKER
Seraphine stood over Kaelen, her piercing violet eyes unwavering as she watched the man—once so confident, so proud—struggle against the magical bindings that held him in place. His breath came in sharp, labored gasps, but his defiance remained, a flicker of stubbornness that had yet to be extinguished. She could see it in his mismatched hunter eyes: the desperate thirst for freedom, the struggle to maintain control despite his circumstances.
The wind rustled through the trees behind her, the shadows of her gown stretching like fingers across the black sands. She allowed herself a moment to drink in the atmosphere of power. She was in control now. Her kingdom, her land, and the spirits that resided in it were hers to command. And Kaelen Stormrider—proud crowned heir to Vyrdantia, son of a war-raging despicable king—was nothing more than a prisoner of war now, broken but far from defeated.
"You've been a part of something dangerous, little Prince," Seraphine's voice broke the silence, cold and unwavering, releasing his chin from her grasp. "A trespasser in my land, a conqueror who underestimated what lies beyond mortal control. And now, you will learn what happens to those who seek to destroy what they cannot understand."
Kaelen met her gaze defiantly, his storm-gray and lightning-gold eyes burning with fury, but his body was slack with the weight of the enchanted chains that bound him. His arrogance still clung to him like a second skin, even as the reality of his situation sank in. He wasn't just defeated—he was captured. Humiliated. And the woman who stood before him, the very one who had reduced him to this state, was in no way merciful.
Seraphine took one step closer, her movements deliberate and slow, until her tilted face was inches from his. She watched him with an expression that was both calculating and detached, as though measuring every thought that crossed his mind.
"You are now a prisoner of war, little Prince," she declared, her voice unwavering, cutting through the tension in the air like a blade. "You are no longer a free man. You will abide by my laws, my rules, and you will answer to me. The moment you set foot on my shores, you forfeited any claim to your life as you knew it."
Kaelen tried to shift, to tug at the chains, but they only tightened in response. His jaw clenched, but his words remained defiant. "You think this will stop me? I'll never bow to you. I will never kneel. I am born to be King and a King never kneels. Not now, not ever."
Her lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. She rose, stepping away from him, her presence as commanding as ever. "You won't need to bow if your pride holds such control over your senses, little Prince, even though you will fall to your knees eventually," she replied, her voice laced with an edge of amusement. "But you will learn to obey. That is the way of things here. You will be housed within my stronghold. And you will remain there until I decide otherwise. If you choose to resist... well, let's just say your fate will be far more... unpleasant." She traced her nails on his neck, on his Adam's apple, shivers spreading down his skin, "I won't hate to separate your head from your neck."
She turned to her men, who had watched this exchange from a distance, their expressions a mixture of awe and wariness, Anna D'Nera, the Commander of her Royal Guard, also right next to her. Ever since Seraphine's parents, King Kai and Queen Isolde Shadewalker, died two years ago, two weeks after her 20th birthday and she took the throne as Queen, she's always been next to her.
Seraphine's voice was detached, "Prepare the prisoner. He will be taken to the citadel. We do not waste time with weaklings. His chains will remain until we reach the stronghold. We do not risk him breaking free."
A few of her soldiers, clad in dark robes and armed with weapons, moved forward to carry out her orders. One approached Kaelen with caution, watching for any sign that he might lash out. Despite his chains, despite the exhaustion from the battle and the storm, there was a dangerous edge to him, a promise of violence that still lingered beneath his skin.
Kaelen glared at Seraphine as she turned away, his voice dripping with venom. "You think you've won? You think you can break me? My people will come for me. I will have my vengeance, shaman bitch."
Seraphine's step faltered, just for a moment, as her lips twisted into a humorless smirk. She didn't turn to face him, but her words carried weight, like a strike to his chest. "Vengeance?" she echoed, her voice low, dangerous. "The only vengeance you will have is the one I allow you. You have no kingdom, no fleet, no power here, little Prince. You are mine to command now."
Her men worked quickly to secure Kaelen, shackling him with enchanted chains that burned with a faint, pulsating light. They were not ordinary bindings. The magic that infused them came from the very spirits of Druumari, woven together with curse magic and shadow spells that only Seraphine could control. They would keep him contained, no matter how strong he was. No matter how defiant he remained.
As Kaelen was pulled from his spot by her guards, he fought every step of the way, dragging his feet in the sand, his body straining against the magical restraints. His pride would not let him yield. But the chains remained unyielding, forcing him to move in line with his captors.
Seraphine watched the entire process with an unreadable expression. She didn't need to rush. Time was on her side. The more she observed him—the way his eyes flickered with both fury and confusion, the way his body strained against the bonds that held him—the more she realized just how powerful he could be if he were ever freed. But that wasn't her concern for now. Her kingdom came first. And Kaelen was a reminder of the consequences of overreach.
"Take him to the prison," Seraphine commanded, her tone crisp and final. "His defiance will be tested in the coming days. If he learns to respect the spiritual power of Druumari, perhaps he will be useful. If not… well, I'm certain there are worse fates than death."
The men nodded in unison and began leading Kaelen toward the jungle, where a winding path lay in front of them, leading to the citadel that housed Druumari's most dangerous prisoners. It was a fortress carved into the cliffs, surrounded by dense foliage and hidden by the power of ancient spirits. It was a place of imprisonment and a place where power and control were forged through suffering.
As Kaelen was dragged away, Seraphine lingered for a moment, watching him. She could feel the weight of his gaze even from a distance. His eyes burned with hate, but she didn't fear it. She had dealt with defiance before. And the longer he fought, the more his spirit would break. There would be no escape for him. Not here, not with her power so firmly entrenched.
Kaelen's mind, still sharp despite his situation, was racing. His mismatched eyes flickered toward Seraphine one last time, the storm within him unbroken. He knew that escaping the prison of Druumari would be no simple task. But he couldn't—wouldn't—let this woman, this queen, break him. His mind churned with plans, with the need to understand what kind of power held him captive.
For the first time since the storm, Kaelen realized that the fight had only just begun.
And Seraphine knew that in the coming days, there would be more than just his body to break. There was his pride, his heart, his very soul.
She would make him hers.