Third Person P.O.V
The King had reached his breaking point. Roaring in a blind fury, he lunged from his throne, descending the dais like a predator. He loomed over her, his face a mask of menacing intent, desperate to see her submit. "You are merely a nobody in this land," he spat, his voice trembling with rage. "An outcast. Giving in is the only solution you have left. Choose: life or death." It was not a choice but a threat. They wanted her to give in and be their possession.
The threat hung heavy in the air, but Solace only met it with a sharp, mocking laugh.
"As I said before, I am not owned by anyone. Not even you, Your Majesty," she said, her voice dripping with enough irony to make the King's blood boil. "If you truly want me, then come and get me. IF.YOU.CAN." the sentence wasn't to mock but a challenge. To the King himself and to his congregation.
"SEIZE HER!" the King bellowed.
Solace didn't flinch. She rolled her eyes with a look of pure boredom as the knights closed in, their armor clanking in the silent hall. A flicker of wicked satisfaction crossed the faces of the royal couple; they clearly thought she had finally surrendered without a fight.
But the trap went deeper. Suddenly, the Elders rose from their seats, surrounding her in a tight circle. A white-haired man in golden-silver robes stepped forward, clutching an ancient staff. They began to chant in a guttural, forgotten tongue, and a shimmering light coalesced around Solace.
She let out a low, whispered groan as an invisible force began to pull at her very soul. They weren't just trying to capture her; they were trying to siphon the magic she had carried since birth—the same pure-blooded power that had saved empires, and the same power she knew would be used for nothing but destruction in their hands.
The light flared, then flickered. The chanting grew frantic, but the magic wouldn't budge. Finally, the Elders collapsed back, drenched in sweat and gasping for air, their strength utterly drained. Even with the ancient staff they carried and an incantation that was lost. That even couldn't capture a single lady. This sight fume more anger to the King as the desire to have her grew more and more.
"Interesting," Solace said bluntly, looking at the King's contorted face. "But incantations won't work on me."
"The spell… it failed, Your Majesty," an Elder wheezed.
"Even with so much preparations it still failed," another Elder whispered as he tries to gasp for more air.
"I know!" the King screamed, his eyes wild. "GUARDS! GET HER!"
Solace's P.O.V
The air in the room shifted from stale ritual to cold violence. As the Elders slunk away, wanting no part of the blood about to be spilled, the King's smile returned—sharp and predatory. He barked the order again, and the guards charged.
I didn't draw my sword yet. I didn't need to.
I moved like smoke, dodging the first heavy swing of a mace with a tilt of my head. I went to work with my bare hands, striking pressure points and using their own momentum to send them crashing into one another. It was a dance—graceful, swift, and entirely unpredictable.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Queen rise and leave the room, her stomach clearly not strong enough for the chaos. The King, however, remained, leaning forward with a grin that made me want to scrub my skin raw.
But even I have limits. The numbers were too high. For every guard I sent to the floor, two more took his place. I was being crowded, backed into a corner where my speed wouldn't matter. I felt a bruise forming on my ribs, the air growing thin. I was losing the upper hand.
Fine, I thought. You want magic? I'll give you magic.
I planted my feet and reached deep into that well of power they had tried so hard to steal. I didn't let it trickle; I let it roar. I released a pulse of pure energy that hit the guards like a physical wall, sending them flying back across the polished stone floor.
I saw the King stand up, his expression a sickening mix of terror and awe. I knew then why he was so desperate. He wasn't just power-hungry; he was cursed by the rightful owners of the Aevum crown, and only a pure-blooded magic-user like me could break it.
He looked at me as if I were a cure to be consumed. I gave him one last look—one of pure, unadulterated defiance—and let the wind take me.
The world blurred. When I opened my eyes, the opulent gold of the palace was gone, replaced by the familiar, earthy scent of my own room. But I wasn't safe. I could already hear the heavy thud of boots through the trees. The legion was coming after me. The King had anticipated my retreat and posted guards near my home.
"A truly orchestrated plan, it is." I mumbled as I moved with a frantic precision, grabbing my essentials. My hand paused as I looked toward the floorboards. The chest. I dived under the bed, my fingers brushing against the dusty, ancient wood. It was covered in inscriptions that seemed to hum under my touch. My parents had left this for me, and I wasn't leaving it for him.