«CHAPTER– 17&18»
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"I'm the snake, sweetheart," she muttered, flicking out a black, serpent-like tongue as it slid across her jaw, hissing with a sound that sent chills down Sylara's spine.
Sylara staggered back, her eyes widening in shock.
Melissa's smirk darkened, heartless and merciless, as if the shadows themselves had lent her cruelty.
Sylara stumbled backward, pressing herself against the cold stone wall of the kitchen.
Her mind raced, trying to piece together the nightmare Melissa had just confessed.
"I'll tell you another secret you need to know," Melissa said, her smirk deepening. "I'm Melissa Drakmor. I hope you already know who my uncle is"
Sylara's eyes widened in horror. Lord Varokron Drakmor is her uncle? No way...
"Main reason I deserve the Moon title. I will sit upon the queen's throne as Crown Prince Moon. Together, we shall rule the great Ashkaroth, and any obstacle daring to stand in my way will be crushed beneath my scales. I will be known as Queen Melissa Tharagon of Albaton Palace"
Melissa's devilish chuckle echoed through the hall, sending a shiver down Sylara's spine.
Her heart pounded with terror—she was no longer safe within the palace walls.
Melissa leaned closer to her whispering to her ear, Sylara clenched her fists tightly frozen in place.
"Now that you know my secret, you will keep your mouth shut—unless you wish to share the same fate as the late queen. If you want to survive, you will do exactly as I command from this moment forward. You will be my secret servant. Fail me… and prepare to be buried."
Melissa spoke with a devilish smirk.
She leaned in close, her breath warm against Sylara's ear, slowly running her tongue along its edge before giving it a deliberate, lingering bite.
Sylara squeezed her eyes shut as hot tears streamed down her cheeks, her body trembling beneath the weight of the threat.
"Let's begin with something simple," Melissa said, leaning in and gripping Sylara's chin, forcing her tear-streaked face upward.
Her nails dug into Sylara's jaw, drawing blood, yet her expression remained utterly emotionless.
"Thalira Alvarez," Melissa continued, her voice icy and chilling, "kill her. That is your first command from your mistress."
Sylara's body froze, trembling uncontrollably. Fear overwhelmed her completely, and she lost control, her shame and terror flooding her at once.
Melissa's smirk darkened, cold and merciless, as she released her.
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»ALVARO, MOONSPIRE PALACE»
"Your Majesty, the Crown Prince has murdered another maid. This is the hundredth time. We must act before this spirals completely out of control. The families of the slain maids and guards never cease cursing this household whenever the bodies of their daughters and sons are returned home," said Chief Minister Rufus, bowing his head low.
He was dressed in the white robes of a royal minister, while the rest of the council wore blue, their heads also bowed in deference.
King Aldren Corvayne sat upon his silver throne, clad in his white royal robes.
His long grey hair cascaded around him, pooling onto the floor, while his eyebrows and beard, equally white, extended impressively; even his jaw-length beard nearly brushed the ground.
His piercing silver eyes scanned the room, and his silver crown rested upon his head as if suspended by magic.
King Aldren Corvayne of Alvaro, known as the Ice King, ruled over Alvaro Town, a settlement surrounded by water.
His palace was carved entirely from ice, a testament to the mastery of water that ran through his blood.
This was the only power he possessed, yet it was formidable.
King Corvayne had only one son, Prince Dracula of Alvaro.
The boy's mother died during childbirth, and from that moment, life became unbearably difficult for the king.
He hired midwives to care for the infant, yet tragedy struck repeatedly: after only two days of tending to the prince, each midwife perished.
Hundreds were employed over time, but none survived long enough to raise him.
Eventually, Aldren had no choice but to care for his son himself, enduring sleepless nights and constant peril to protect the boy he had lost his queen for.
As the prince grew up, life became increasingly unbearable for him.
He was constantly sick, always cold, and had an insatiable thirst for blood.
He was not only an Ice Prince but also carried the blood of his mother, a black sorceress who shared the same craving for blood.
She died because Prince Dracula drained every last drop of her blood before emerging from her womb.
Now that he had come of age, life had become more than unbearable for the king.
Maids and guards were dying every day in the palace because of the prince's insatiable thirst for blood.
If he didn't feed, he would either rot alive or descend into madness, and the coldness coursing through his body only made everything worse.
"And what do you all suggest I do? Chain the Crown Prince of Alvaro in the deepest pit of the ocean?" King Aldren asked, his voice icy as he arched his eyebrows.
The Prime Ministers dropped to their knees at once, heads bowed in immediate submission.
"Your Highness, that is not what we mean," Minister Rufus said, bowing deeply.
"Prince Dracula is beyond anyone's control. He must find his moon—that is the only way to contain him. He is the Ice Prince; he needs his goddess, the Goddess of Fire, to tame him. The Silver Stone in Ashkaroth could also help draw the thirst for blood from him, Your Highness."
King Aldren's lips curled into a dark, savage smirk, his eyebrows arching sharply.
"The Silver Stone? Didn't Azreal Regathor destroy it a hundred years ago?" he asked, his voice icy.
Minister Rufus lifted his head, meeting the king's piercing gaze.
"Duncan Tharagon, the Demon Crown Prince of Ashkaroth, has escaped from his dungeon. Rumors have been circulating that he possesses the power of the Silver Stone within him. He has found his moon, and I have confirmed that the rumors are true, Your Highness. The Silver Stone exists—and it is hidden within Duncan Tharagon," Minister Rufus said, bowing briefly.
King Aldren tapped his feet repeatedly against the ice floor, his silver eyes scanning the throne room with a storm of impatience and fury.
"The Fire Clan was wiped out over five hundred years ago," King Aldren muttered, his voice low and grim.
"It is impossible for my son to find his moon, the Goddess of Fire. Then the only option left is the Silver Stone. To save him, the Silver Stone must enter Moonspire Palace. Duncan Tharagon—the beast—I care not for the cost, but we must take it from him, whatever the outcome, to save my son."
At his words, all heads bowed lower in fear.
Aldren's lips curled into a cold, calculating smirk as he tapped his fingers on the armrest of his throne, his mind racing with plans both desperate and dangerous.
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«Moonspire Ocean»
Silver eyes opened beneath the water.
He was dressed in flowing white robes, a silver prince's crown resting upon his head. He sat on the ocean floor with his legs folded, palms open, blue flames flickering and dancing above them.
His hair was long and strikingly demarcated—one side pure white, the other black—pooling around him like ink and snow entwined.
His silver eyes shone brightly, piercing the darkness of the depths.
Prince Dracula, Crown Prince of Alvaro.
A figure began swimming toward him through the dark waters.
It was a woman, dressed in flowing white that drifted like mist around her. Her long black hair streamed behind her, and her eyes shone with an otherworldly light as she moved gracefully toward him.
Around her neck hung a silver chain, and upon it rested the Silver Stone, glowing brilliantly beneath the ocean's depths.
Its light pulsed softly, casting ripples of radiance through the water as she drew nearer.
She stopped before him, her gaze locked onto his silver eyes.
Slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his cold cheek. Then she leaned closer and pressed her lips gently against his.
At that instant, the ocean trembled.
The blue flames in his palms flared wildly, and the Silver Stone burned brighter between them, as though recognizing something ancient—something destined.
For the first time, the relentless cold within Prince Dracula faltered.
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«Prince Dracula's Chamber»
Prince Dracula's silver eyes slowly opened.
He sat on the frozen chamber floor, the lifeless bodies of two maids lying beside him, their blood pooled darkly across the marble like spilled ink.
Crimson stained his lips, and his white robes were smeared with the evidence of his curse.
Whenever he satisfied the unbearable thirst clawing at his veins, sleep would claim him without warning.
It was not rest—it was surrender. His body would grow cold and distant, and the world around him would fade into silence.
And every time, he dreamed the same dream.
The ocean.
The endless blue depths.
And her.
She drifted toward him through the water, clothed in flowing white, the Silver Stone glowing softly at her throat. In that dream, the cold inside him loosened its grip.
The relentless frost that ruled his veins began to thaw, if only slightly. The hunger that gnawed at him day and night grew quiet, fading into a distant whisper.
For the first time, the storm within him stilled.
Her presence was warmth without flame, light without burning.
As she drew closer, the ocean shimmered around them, silver currents spiraling gently as though the sea itself bowed to her. When her fingers brushed against his cheek, the blue fire in his palms dimmed, no longer wild or violent—but calm.
In that silent underwater world, he did not feel cursed.
He felt chosen.
"Once I find you, I'll never let you go… bad kisser," he whispered, his voice weak, breath heavy. He closed his eyes, and the maddening cold surged through him, clawing at his veins like frost made flesh.
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Thailra stared at the bangles and took a deep breath before continuing her journey to the palace.
She planned to give one to Duncan—it would let them know if either of them was in danger.
She let out a small, relieved smile and stepped into the woods that led toward the forest.
But then something made her stop.
Mighty, muscular men began emerging from their hiding places, tapping large sticks against their palms.
Their chests were bare, clad only in short trousers, and their faces were painted. Some slung weapons over their shoulders, sneering at her.
Her eyes widened.
Thailra sensed shadows behind her and spun around to see another group approaching. She stepped back, and when she turned forward, she realized she was now trapped in the middle.
She swallowed hard, her heart pounding with fear.
The men closed in, their painted faces twisted into sneers. Thailra's eyes darted around, searching for a way out, but the forest offered no escape—only thick trees and tangled roots.
She gripped the bangle on her wrist, feeling its cold weight, and whispered Duncan's name under her breath, hoping it would reach him.
"You're the Crown Prince Moon… the future Queen of Ashkaroth… Thailra Alvarez," the largest of them said, gripping a stick topped with a metal ball lined with sharp spikes.
His voice was deep, reverberating through the trees like a dark drum.
Thailra swallowed hard as the cloth covering her head slipped to the ground, revealing her face.
The men's eyes widened, then narrowed with recognition. They exchanged knowing glances and nodded to one another—she was exactly who they thought she was.
Thailra's heart thundered in her chest.
The forest, now felt like a trap closing in around her. She gripped the bangle on her wrist, feeling its faint pulse as if it were alive.
"You're all mistaken. I am not the one you thought—I am Gorvia Welton of Darkrom," Thailra declared, nodding with firm conviction.
Her eyes flicked toward them, yet they merely exchanged knowing glances before erupting into another round of mocking laughter.
Thailra closed her eyes, steadying herself.
"Gorvia Welton, is it? You expect us to believe that?" one of them sneered, his voice low and dripping with mockery, while the others laughed, striking their weapons against their palms.
Thailra slowly opened her eyes, exhaling deliberately, and fixed her gaze on them.
"What do you actually want? They sent you all to kill me, didn't they?" Thailra whispered, her voice barely audible.
Fear gripped her, choking her words—if even the slightest edge of their weapons struck her, it would be the end of her.
Her chest burned with panic, yet she forced herself to stand tall, projecting strength she didn't feel.
The men exchanged glances, their laughter fading into low, menacing murmurs. One stepped closer, towering over her, the tip of his weapon glinting in the dappled forest light.
"Courage, little one? Or are you trying to buy time?" he sneered.
Thailra stared at him, wordless, and he smirked darkly, leaning close, his hot breath brushing her face. She clenched her fists tightly, fury and fear coiling together inside her.
"Nobody sent us, little one," he said, his voice heavy and menacing.
"This is what we do for a living—erase any prey that dares to cross our territory. Not even your… demonic husband will stop us from gouging out your eyes, little moon."
Without thinking, her hand shot up, and she slapped him across the cheek with brutal force. His lips split, and his eyes widened in shock.
Thailra froze, staring at her hand in disbelief.
She hadn't planned to slap him. Shifting her gaze to his face, fear gripped her—she knew, in that moment, she was as good as dead.
Run, Thailra, run! her mind screamed.
Without another thought, she pivoted toward the narrow path she had spotted earlier and bolted.
"Catch the girl! Bring me her eyes!" the leader roared, his voice slicing through the forest.
The men surged after her like a wave of shadows, their footsteps pounding the earth.
And the maddening chase had begun.
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Before the vast Ashkaroth Ocean stood Duncan, one arm folded behind him, the breeze whipping through his long hair.
His piercing eyes were fixed on the horizon, silver light flashing within them.
Suddenly, a massive white dragon, speckled with red across its scales, erupted from the ocean.
Water sprayed violently into the air as the dragon opened its jaws, unleashing a torrent of fire and water simultaneously.
Duncan's lips curled into a dark, knowing smirk.
The dragon dove back into the ocean, swimming steadily toward him. He didn't flinch. He didn't blink. He simply watched, eyes locked on the beast, ready to strike or assess it at his leisure.
The dragon lifted its massive head from the water.
Twin red horns crowned its skull, towering like jagged spires, and long white whiskers cascaded down its face, nearly brushing the water's surface.
Its eyes glowed a deep crimson, partially obscured by streaks of grey whiskers that draped over them.
For a long, tense moment, the dragon lingered above Duncan, then slowly lowered its head until their faces were mere inches apart.
Their eyes met, and a faint, electric tension seemed to hum in the air. Duncan did not flinch.
Then, with a sudden, deliberate motion, the dragon drew back and slammed its head onto the ground with a thunderous impact.
The earth trembled beneath them.
"Long live Prince Duncan Tharagon," the dragon intoned, its voice heavy and resonant, vibrating through the air itself.
A dark, savage smirk spread across Duncan's lips. He had not only faced the beast… he had earned its allegiance.
Giantica—the legendary dragon of Azreal Regathor—had remained dormant for a hundred years.
Since Azreal's death, no one had succeeded in summoning the beast, for to command it required mastery over all six Eclipses of Souls, the ultimate source of power needed to awaken and control the great dragon.
But now, Duncan Tharagon wielded powers beyond anything the world had seen.
With the formidable Silver Stone and the mastery of the Dominion of Souls flowing through him, he had surpassed every threshold required to awaken Giantica.
At his command, the air trembled, and the waters roared.
With a deep, resonant growl, Giantica answered his summon, rising from the ocean like a living storm, acknowledging the one who had finally claimed dominion over it.
The waves parted as Giantica's massive form loomed over Duncan, her red horns piercing the stormy sky, crimson eyes glowing with intelligence and power.
The ocean churned beneath her as she lowered her head closer to him.
Suddenly, blood escaped from his nose and mouth, sliding down his chin.
A bruise bloomed on his cheek, and a thin line of blood appeared along his neck.
His fists clenched as an invisible hand punched him in the stomach.
Yet he didn't flinch. He remained perfectly still, his body rigid, his mind focused entirely on Thalira.
A hand dared touch her?
His smirk darkened, dark and dangerous, as he lifted his gaze to the dragon above. His eyes burned with a maddening, uncontainable rage.
"I need a favor… from you, Giantica," he muttered, his voice low, cold, and deep.
Giantica's golden eyes gleamed like molten fire as she studied him silently. Her massive wings rustled, sending gusts of wind that rattled the stones beneath them.
"You dare summon me for a favor, mortal-born?" Her voice rumbled like distant thunder, yet carried a weight that made the air itself tremble.
Duncan didn't flinch. He stepped closer, his fists still clenched, his aura radiating a dangerous heat.
"I'm not asking," he said coldly. "I'm ordering."
The dragon's eyes narrowed, smoke curling from her nostrils.
She leaned forward, bringing her enormous head level with his. For a moment, it felt as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them — predator and challenger.
"Your arrogance grows, Duncan," she hissed. "Do you even understand what you are asking of me?"
"I do," he replied, his voice unwavering. "And if you refuse, you'll regret it. For yourself… and for everyone who stands in my way."
Giantica paused, her massive body coiling like a living storm. The ground trembled beneath her claws. For the first time, Duncan allowed himself a faint smirk.
Good, he thought. Fear suits you.
With a final, rumbling exhale, the dragon inclined her head in reluctant acknowledgment.
"Very well," she said, her voice softer but no less dangerous. "I will grant you this favor… but remember, Duncan. Favors from dragons come at a cost."
Duncan gritted his teeth, his jaw tight with barely contained tension.
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Thalira was tied to the tree, her chest bruised and battered, blood trickling from her nose and mouth.
Her hair fell messily across her face, and her breath came in ragged, heavy gasps. Blood from the wound on her neck stained her clothes.
The men sat on the ground nearby, laughing loudly as they roasted an antelope they had caught while chasing her.
Thalira stared at them with drowsy, weary eyes, her body weak and trembling from pain and exhaustion.
She tried to lift her head, but her strength betrayed her. Her arms ached from being bound, her vision blurred from blood and exhaustion.
Her clothes were covered in dirt.
The leader — the same one she had slapped earlier — strolled over, casually eating an apple, a cruel smirk curling his lips.
He grabbed her cheek, pressing it roughly so her mouth formed an awkward oval.
"You'll regret ever laying that filthy hand on my face," he muttered, his voice cold and ruthless. "You'll regret it so much, little bravado moon."
He yanked her face away with force, his nails scratching her skin. Then he took a large bite of his apple, chuckling as he sauntered back to join the others.
Hot tears streamed down Thalira's cheeks. She sniffled quietly, her body trembling.
Is this how my life ends? she thought desperately. Did I travel a thousand years to Ashkaroth… just to die here? Is this my fate?
The thought made her chest tighten as she cried silently, feeling utterly alone in a world that seemed impossibly cruel.
Thalira shut her eyes, hot sweat dripping down her cheeks. The bangles she had kept were still intact, clinking softly as she shifted.
Her breath came in heavy, ragged gasps, and she prayed inwardly for a miracle to happen.
Far from her, Prince Kealric and Arabella stood, their gazes locked on the scene.
"We have to save her," Arabella said, her voice sharp with urgency. "If you truly want her, why are you hesitating?"
Prince Kealric smirked, his lips moving slightly as if calculating every possible outcome.
His hands were folded behind his back, his tall frame straight and imposing, his piercing brown eyes fixed unwaveringly on Thalira.
"She can't die that easily," he muttered finally. "We'll have to wait and see what happens in the end."
Arabella sighed, shifting her gaze reluctantly back to Thalira, worry etched across her face.
Thalira's eyelids fluttered as she tried to lift her head, her vision blurred and her body trembling.
Every gasp of air burned in her chest, but she refused to cry out. The men around her laughed cruelly, oblivious to the danger that lingered just beyond the clearing.
"Let's gouge out her eyes — they'll taste even better than the meat," one of them sneered.
The others nodded in agreement, rising to their feet, their shadows stretching across the clearing.
Arabella swallowed hard, her gaze flicking to Kealric. His smirk only deepened, sharp and unreadable. She hesitated for a moment before forcing her eyes back to the scene unfolding before them.
Thalira's chest heaved as she watched the men advance.
She struggled against the ropes binding her to the tree, her fingers clawing at the knots, but it was useless.
Every tug only tightened her bonds further, leaving her weak and trembling.
Panic surged through her, and hot tears threatened to fall. How… how can I survive this?
"Don't come closer! Stay back!" Thalira yelled, her hair falling wildly across her face.
The men only laughed, cruel and mocking. The leader stepped forward, a small, wicked knife in hand.
He pressed the tip against her jaw, lifting it roughly, forcing her mouth into an uncomfortable angle.
"Before, I planned to let you go," the leader hissed, his voice cold and venomous, "but after that slap, I've changed my mind. I don't care about your title, Prince Moon, or the future Queen of Ashkaroth. No one on this earth has ever dared lay a filthy hand on me—until today. The Ashkaroth Moon dared, and I'll gouge out your eyes and see how you sit on that throne in blindness beside him."
A shiver ran down Thalira's spine, but she didn't hesitate.
Gathering all her courage, she spat a mouthful of saliva directly into his eyes. He staggered back, blinded and enraged.
"Go to hell!!" Thalira screamed, her voice trembling yet fierce.
The leader lunged, grabbing her by the throat, squeezing brutally. Her face flushed red, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes as she gasped for air.
Then a massive dragon's shadow fell across the ground, and all eyes shifted to the sky.
Their eyes widened at the sight of the enormous dragon overhead.
Fear gripped them, and the leader immediately released Thailra's neck.
She collapsed forward, coughing desperately for air.
Prince Kealric and Arabella's eyes widened in disbelief.
The dragon before them was no ordinary beast from the Avialyn clan—it was colossal, so immense that any human would seem no larger than an ant in its presence.
The powerful gust from its wings sent clouds of dust swirling into the air, scattering everything in its path.
Without hesitation, Prince Kealric and Arabella vanished, narrowly avoiding being hurled to the ground by the force of the wind.
The men were hurled into the branches of nearby trees, some collapsing to the ground as they struggled to breathe.
Their vision blurred from the impact.
Thailra squeezed her eyes shut to keep the dust from blinding her, gasping for air as the powerful gusts battered her.
The tree to which she was bound creaked violently, threatening to topple at any moment.
Then the wind fell silent, and Thailra slowly opened her eyes to the horrifying scene before her.
Duncan had seized the leader and tore his head from his body with brutal strength. He sank his teeth on his chest draining all his blood without mercy.
A blur of motion, he moved with terrifying speed from one man to the next, leaving devastation in his wake. When it was over, he cast the lifeless body aside as if it meant nothing.
Thalira's eyes widened in horror.
Duncan grabbed the last man and drove his claws into his eyes, gouging them out. He screamed in pain, but it didn't end there.
Duncan seized him by the neck, and with a swift, merciless motion, his palm covered his neck like a vice.
Immediately, the man's head burst from his neck and rolled to Thailra's feet.
Duncan cast a sidelong glance at her, and the horror in her eyes made his lips curl into a dark, savage smirk.
With his gaze fixed on her, he brought the man's ear to his mouth, bit it off, and began chewing as he stared, his face and mouth smeared with blood.
He dropped the headless body.
"Ahhh!" A terrified scream tore from her throat as her breath caught in her lungs. Her eyes rolled back, and darkness claimed her—she lost consciousness.
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