IN FULL COLOUR - Dark Fantasy

Coyne

Heir. I had found his name in the she-wolf, Gabrielle’s mind as soon as I saw them together in the clearing. I didn’t want to invade her privacy by scratching around in her head, but I needed to know, and since she was a nether fae, it was easy pickings.

Heir was of my own blood. He was a royal whether he liked it or not, which also meant I wouldn’t be able to access his thoughts and that he would ultimately have the same powers I did, although mine should be more concentrated than his.

Blades glinted and growls erupted as Axel attacked John. Heir was ready, had been anticipating it and harshly jerked Gabrielle up by a cluster of her hair. A shrill shriek of pain and surprise escaped her mouth while tears shone in her eyes.

Without wasting a precious second, I dashed for her, but Heir was once again ready and pulled a switchblade out from nowhere. He flipped the blade open mid-air and pressed it to the exposed, tender throat of Gabrielle Stone, only daughter of Alpha Blake Stone.

Shit. Too fast. He had been too fast, even for me. I had no other option but to stand down for the moment.

“Lower your dome or I’ll slit the pretty girl’s throat,” he hissed, digging the front of the blade deeper into her skin and drawing a tiny bit of blood.

Although I couldn’t enter his mind, I knew he was serious. He would slit her throat and not feel an ounce of regret in doing so.

Slowly, I lifted my hands, showing him my palms as a sign of defeat. Around us, warriors were fighting and more of them awaited beyond the dome I had locked in place. Their faces glared at us through the dark, shadowy barrier, and their swords slammed into its walls.

Behind me, Locke was barking out orders to his men and behind Heir, Axel and John engaged in a deadly display of dominance.

I scanned my son up and down. We had mere moments before it would all be over. I contemplated it, played out multiple scenarios in my mind. With a glance over my shoulder, Locke gave me the signal that said he was ready.

Everything around me faded into nothing as I focused all my senses on Heir. His heartbeat, his breathing, the way he held the blade in his fist, the promise of violence in his bright, too-young blue eyes and the potent hatred he felt for me. His sire and father by blood.

I cocked my head to the side studying him. The switchblade. A mortal weapon. He had obviously been disadvantaged by growing up amongst other races. In a strange, unfamiliar realm, away from your own kind. He didn’t have the knowledge I had in wielding our unique set of magic skills. Swords and daggers were important too, but magic put you in a league of your own.

Taking his foreign upbringing into consideration, Heir couldn’t have gained such mastery on the shadows as I had. Of course, he could have figured out some of it along the way, but most of the knowledge I treasured, had been passed on by generations of great kings before me. My father and his father. His father’s father and so forth.

“Today, old man!” my son hissed, gesturing towards the dome.

Locke was ready. Gabrielle squirming. It was now or never.

With a wave of my hand, the dome dropped away, and warriors charged, clashing metal.

With my mind, I commanded two Dash Spectres to assemble and barrel with all of their strength into Heir. I needed to get him away from Gabrielle, put some distance between them so I could face him without interference.

My Host Crawlers within the wolves were swift and efficient, as well as the Regmus, who threw themselves into the golden mass of fae, ripping and shredding whatever stepped in front of them.

As the battle erupted around us, I turned to face my son, sprawled over a bush and still clutching a fist full of long dark hair in his hand.

He was on his feet in an instant, jumping from one shadow to another, blade out and drawing another from his belt. I commanded a moderate-sized Dash Spectre shield and the entity wrapped around the front of my left arm as I waited for Heir’s first lunge.

The young prince was well trained in combat. He moved like an assassin. Nimble, precise and barely noticeable with a mortal eye.

He was experienced, I would give him that, but the fact held that he had no knowledge of his own abilities. The power he had within his reach. I didn’t want to kill him. How could I? It was my fault he had been born and bred for such evil. He had been corrupted by a wicked queen. Been fed lies from the moment his eyes opened to the bright harsh light of this world. I had to give him a chance.

I had to offer him an option. He had to make a choice with all the facts laid out in front of him and not just the lies he had been spewed.

“Stop, Heir!” I ordered as he slammed his blade into my shield. His brows rose at the sound of his name coming from my mouth.

Startled and staggering back, I shoved him off me and commanded again, “STOP!”

Heir’s face hardened and he attacked again, but this time I was sick of it. As he came charging towards me, I rammed millions of tiny Dash Spectre particles into his face, forcing the blackened mist to enter any available opening.

He fell to the forest floor, clutching his head as the particles entered his mouth, nose, ears, filling every cavity it could find. Heir screamed in agony, but no sound came out as the darkness forced its way down his throat and into his lungs.

My heart cracked as his frightened electric blue eyes snapped up towards mine and he clawed at his own throat, unable to breathe.

“Submit yourself to me and I will let you live!”

He shook his head violently as tears flowed. It wasn’t tears of sadness or fright. No. These were tears of pain and immense pressure building up in his head, his inner ear and nasal cavities.

“Yield!” I ordered, my voice booming.

Heir was clawing at the ground, crawling towards me, suffocating but still so damn stubborn.

“I said, YIELD!”

With that last word, I pushed the black particles deeper into his inner ear, tearing through his eardrums with the intention to inflict pain and throw him off balance. The inner ear is the centre of balance for any living being. Tampering with it meant tampering with one’s sense of stability.

Heir fell onto his face, shaking and clawing at his ears.

His mouth moved but no sound came out. I retracted the mist from his airways, and he gasped for air. Heaved, coughed and let out a horrific scream. He kept his brow pressed to the ground, clawing at the dirt as he shook with both fury and agony.

While he screamed in pain, I crouched before him. Studying his suffering with a broken heart. When I couldn’t bare it any longer, I retracted more of the mist from his body and watched him slump to the ground, panting. “You will partake in a blood oath with me in exchange for your life.”

The young prince lifted his face, tried to push himself up with his arms. But it was useless. Those dark bands of black swayed before he fell onto his side again, completely off balance. He didn’t give up and swiped clumsily at me with his blade. I pitied him deeply, but I was doing this for his own good. He didn’t leave me any other choice.

“A blood oath,” I said again, cutting my palm with the switchblade he had dropped. After I made the incision, I grabbed his hand and did the same to him. “Do you promise on your blood to obey your king’s every command? To yield yourself to him and his realm, and to stay true to your word in everything you say to him or any of his followers?”

Heir was pale and shook with restraint. Slowly, I began increasing the pressure in his head again, willing the remaining mist to push against his inner walls. I kept at it, pushing until he nodded defiantly, and I gripped his palm. In an instant, I sliced his skin open and pressed my hand to his, mixing our blood. Magic pulsed through us, enforcing the old, sacred oath.

And with that, it was complete. He belonged to me. Bound to the Kingdom of Shadows and Whispers. Forced by the very blood in his veins to obey my every command.