The growl that tore from Prince Rhydian Drakhar's throat was not human. It was a sound of ancient power, raw and untamed, vibrating through the very stones of the Grand Hall. The evolving Blighted beast, momentarily stunned, faltered in its lunge. In that split second, Rhydian moved with impossible speed, a dark blur against the chaos. His hands, no longer merely human, seemed to shift, his fingers elongating, nails sharpening into obsidian talons. He struck the creature with a force that sent it careening into a marble pillar, the impact cracking the stone.
Lyra watched, mesmerized and terrified, as Rhydian became a whirlwind of controlled fury. He didn't just fight; he dominated. The beast, now larger and more menacing, tried to retaliate, but Rhydian was too fast, too strong. A low, guttural snarl escaped him as he tore at its monstrous form, a dark, viscous ichor splattering across the polished floor. The sight was both horrifying and breathtaking. This was the "barbarian" they whispered about, the one whose bloodline held secrets of fire and scale.
Within moments, the beast lay still, its grotesque form dissolving into a foul-smelling mist. The other Blighted, smaller and less formidable, seemed to recoil, their feral eyes darting nervously between the fallen monster and Rhydian, who stood panting, his chest heaving. His features, for a fleeting instant, seemed sharper, more angular, as if struggling to return to their human form.
The palace guards, emboldened by his display, rallied. The remaining Blighted were quickly overwhelmed, driven back through the shattered windows, leaving behind a trail of destruction and the stench of death.
Silence, thick and suffocating, descended upon the Grand Hall. The nobles, who moments ago had been screaming in terror, now stared, wide-eyed, at Rhydian. Their fear had not vanished; it had merely shifted, now directed at the man who had saved them.
Rhydian turned slowly, his golden eyes sweeping over the devastated hall. They landed on Lyra, who still clutched the dagger, her knuckles white. His gaze was unreadable, a complex mix of intensity and something she couldn't decipher. He said nothing, merely nodded curtly, a silent acknowledgment of their shared ordeal, before turning to bark orders at his own guards in a harsh, unfamiliar tongue.
Lord Valerius, pale but composed, approached Lyra. "Your Highness, are you unharmed?"
"I am well, Lord Valerius," Lyra replied, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. She glanced at Rhydian, who was now surveying the damage with a detached air. "The Prince... his strength is undeniable."
Valerius merely hummed, a noncommittal sound. "Indeed. Perhaps this alliance will prove more... robust than anticipated." His eyes, however, held a flicker of unease.
The wedding ceremony, naturally, was postponed. The palace was a scene of frantic activity: guards securing the perimeter, healers tending to the wounded, servants attempting to clean the gruesome mess. Lyra was escorted to her private chambers, her mind reeling. The image of Rhydian, a force of nature, tearing through the Blighted, was seared into her memory. He was not just a man; he was something else entirely.
Later that evening, as the moon cast long shadows across her room, Lyra stood by the window, gazing out at the scarred city. The Blight was a relentless enemy, and Rhydian was a terrifying ally. But was he truly an ally, or just another predator in a different skin?
A soft knock on her door startled her. It was Elara, her chambermaid, her face still pale from the day's events. "Your Highness, a message from the King. He wishes to see you and Prince Drakhar in the morning. And... there are whispers in the court."
"Whispers?" Lyra asked, her brow furrowing.
"Yes. About the Prince's... nature. And about the suddenness of his arrival. Some say it was too convenient, too perfectly timed with the attack. They wonder if he knew. If he... allowed it." Elara's voice dropped to a whisper. "Some even say he lured them."
Lyra's blood ran cold. The thought had flickered through her own mind, a dark, unwelcome suspicion. Could he? Could the man who had just saved her, the man she was forced to marry, be capable of such calculated cruelty?
She dismissed Elara, but the seed of doubt had been planted. As she drifted to an uneasy sleep, the image of Rhydian's blazing golden eyes, and the chilling growl that had escaped his lips, haunted her dreams.