Hellion's Reckoning

She spent all day checking the wards around their forest. Their spells were nothing compared to the power of nature, should it wish to shatter their defenses. It wasn’t her duty to attend the wards during a storm, but it was the only excuse for her late return. Anything to avoid returning home, to give another report to her father. She had slipped out in the early hours of the morning to avoid their fussy servants.

Keira returned to the manor later in the night, climbing out of her carriage to greet the servants. They lifted an umbrella over her head and led her to the door. “You mustn’t go out in such a storm milady,” One of them said as she was led in, and the umbrellas put away. They were always so fussy. She’d had to sneak out of the manor just to get out. Her father didn’t like her going off to meet with Inias alone. He had only allowed it on the agreement she acted as a spy for him. Spying on her friend when she’d just demanded transparency, it left a bad taste in her mouth.

When they reached for her coat, she shoved the women away and growled. “Leave me be,” She said in a more forceful tone than she intended, “It’s been a long day, I wish to be alone.” Her voice softened as she stepped away from the two bowing women. Taking her coat, she threw it to one of them. The servant caught the coat deftly, a look of surprise flashing across her face. Keira’s sudden outburst was out of character, but the servant knew better than to question her lady. With a quick bow, the servants quickly retreated, leaving Keira standing alone in the foyer.

The echoes of the storm outside seemed to amplify the silence within the manor. As Keira made her way through the grand hallway, the dimly lit chandeliers above her casting a soft golden glow, she couldn’t help but admire the beauty of her family’s home. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting scenes of battles and triumphs, a reminder of the powerful lineage she belonged to. The marble floors gleamed underfoot, a testament to the dedication of the diligent servants who tirelessly kept the manor spotless.

Passing by the imposing staircase that led to the upper floors, Keira couldn’t resist running her fingers along the polished banister, feeling the smoothness beneath her touch. The air was tinged with the scent of old books and wood polish, a comforting smell that enveloped her like a warm embrace. Portraits of her ancestors lined the walls, their stern gazes watching over her every move, a constant reminder of the expectations that weighed heavily on her shoulders.

As she made her way to her chambers, the heavy oak door loomed before her, intricately carved with patterns of intertwining vines and flowers. Pushing it open, Keira stepped into the room that was her sanctuary. The plush velvet curtains were drawn shut, casting the room in a soft dusk light. A crackling fire burned in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the room and warming her to the core.

A grand bookshelf dominated one corner of the room, filled with volumes of history, fantasy, and many of her ancestors’ personal grimoires. The scent of old parchment and leather-bound books enveloped the room, a fragrance that never failed to soothe her restless mind. In the center of the room, a sturdy oak desk stood proudly, littered with papers and her personal diary left unguarded again. A golden quill and inkwell sat ready for her next entry.

Near the hearth, the pair of gleaming knives stood like silent sentinels, their blades shimmering with a deadly elegance that mirrored the dangers lurking in the shadows. Each rune etched on the knives whispered of power and sacrifice, a reminder of the fine line she walked between duty and rebellion.

As the storm raged outside, Keira sank into the plush velvet chair by the fire. The howling winds remained a relentless symphony of chaos. Keira sat by the crackling fire in her chamber, the flickering flames casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls like twisted spirits. Her thoughts drifted back to the secrets she was forced to keep, the lies she was forced to tell, all in the name of duty and loyalty. Who was she meant to be most loyal to? Her father? The man who had watched for centuries as his kind were slowly stripped of their freedom. When they needed him most, he chose the king. He had reaped the benefits and now his children would pay the price.

The king had taken her mother, accused her of treason, of aiding cultists. She had hidden two children from capture, children of Talos’ high priestess. Her father should have ripped the man apart. One’s duty was first to their clan and second to their king, that was the old way. Only now that the king had turned on him did he make a stand. When the hellions were at their most desperate, he had risen as their beacon of hope. It was then he orchestrated the secret roads for refugees to flee safely. The Hellion King, some called him.

And then there was Inias whose resolve seemed to strengthen with each passing day. Despite his occasional thoughtlessness, she knew that his heart was in the right place. Inias would choose her, of that she was certain. Since his father’s death something had changed in him. That tragedy had shattered his once insufferable ego and revealed a resilience no one had seen. She had brought it out, had pushed him when he’d hit his lowest point. Together they would redeem their clans and build a new world, one where hellions no longer lived in fear.

Though the storm raged she stood from her chair and rummaged through her closet for another cloak. She didn’t want another night of reports to her father. Instead of a cloak she chose a long black jacket, woven to repel rain. It’s what she should have worn earlier, she’d been in a rush to evade everyone in the manor. Throwing it around her shoulders she walked to the window and flung it open.

Tonight, she wanted to be with her friend. One night to forget about all the scheming, the magistrate, the king, and the coming conflict. She wanted to feel his arms around her, safely wrapped in his warmth.