Princess Daniella remained deeply sunk within the distressed brown leather of the high-back chair, her legs casually crossed and her feet resting on the side chair across from her. The oppressive silence that had been her solace was violently flipped. A wave of opulent noise—a sudden, deafening crush—washed over her.
The Gilded Harp Tavern, moments ago empty save for herself, now seethed with a crush of nobility. Princes, dukes, and politicians in velvet and silk jostled for space. The moody background music was replaced by an upbeat, playful rhythm that sprang to life from a corner orchestra.
Daniella scowled, her crystal glass pressed to her lips. She brought the amber liquor to her mouth and took a deep, deliberate, drowning pull. She had been drinking, feeling perfectly miserable, and no amount of self-induced numbness could temper her foul mood—it only seemed to sharpen her growing temper. The sudden liveliness of the tavern offered a jarring contrast to the cold, empty space in her mind where a plan to deal with Jasper's recent assault should have been.
Across the now-packed room, amidst a laughing cluster of young nobles, sat her older sister, Crown Princess Kayla. Kayla, luminous in a spring yellow gown, seemed to radiate light. When her eyes met Daniella's, her smile was wide as if the world had never dared to turn on her! But as their gazes locked, the pitying expression in Kayla's eyes was entirely genuine. Kayla was chosen, secure. Daniella could only assume her sister felt a smug sense of being rightfully beneath her. Her sister did love feeling important.
Crown Princess Kayla wanted to cross the polished, dark wood floor and speak to her younger sister. She took a hesitant step, her hand instinctively reaching out, but the movement was immediately checked. Protocol, a suffocating, invisible wall, meant she could not cross the vast void to breach her sister's solitary corner. Instead, she mouthed a silent question: "Are you okay?"
Before Kayla could even finish the last silent syllable, Daniella had already turned away, her attention snapping back to her drink. Daniella managed a forced, brittle smile that died the moment it left her lips. She found Kayla's light to be utterly insufferable. It felt, in all her lives, as if her sister's happiness required her to suffer.
Suddenly, a chilling hush descended upon The Gilded Harp, the movement arrested mid-step by a terrifying cessation of sound.
It wasn't a natural lull; it was the sharp, terrified silence of dozens of frozen people. The playful music shattered, leaving only a sustained, trembling pause. Every head in the room was snapped toward the entrance.
King Elderaan had entered the tavern.
He was a figure of cold, severe authority. Every single person in the crowded room—princes, princesses, servants—scrambled to their feet, bowing deeply in synchronized fear. The opulent space fell utterly silent, filled only with the faint rustle of expensive fabrics. No one dared to move a muscle.
Elderaan's eyes, chips of granite, fixed instantly on Daniella. He began to move, a slow, deliberate stride that felt like a sentence being delivered. He crossed the floor, trailed by one attendant: a young, slender man whose eyes were wide with nameless dread. The King stopped directly beside Daniella's chair.
He indicated the seat she had been warming all night. "Sit," he commanded, his voice a low, gravelly current of authority that pulled at the very air in the room.
King Elderaan seated himself first, the distressed leather sighing audibly. Daniella's flippant demeanor had long since dissipated. Having no choice, she lowered herself reluctantly back into the brown leather seat, her spine ramrod straight.
The young attendant stood by the King's shoulder, his wide blue eyes darting around the room, unsure where he should set his gaze—everywhere was terrifying, nowhere was safe.
Without a word, and without shifting his gaze from Daniella, King Elderaan reached out and seized the young man's neck. His elongated nails—not trimmed, but naturally sharpened, obsidian points—dug instantly and effortlessly into the young man's throat.
A sickening, wet pop and crunch echoed in the paralyzed silence. It was the sound of cartilage shattering, quickly followed by the dull tearing of skin and muscle. Before the King released the young man's severed larynx from the barrier of his skin, the dreadful act was done.
Blood erupted from the boy's torn carotid artery—not a trickle, but a sudden, thick, and dark fountain, surging violently as his heart gave its final, desperate beat. His body pitched forward onto the opulent floor, life gone in an instant, so swift that his eyes hadn't had a chance to widen in fear or recognition of his own death.
A single, muffled scream from a woman in the room, sharp and raw, was instantly stifled—presumably by the noble beside her—leaving only a profound, shuddering silence.
Before a single drop could splatter the rug, the King exerted a shockingly fluid execution of will. A pressure drop was felt across the room; the air seemed to condense and grow heavy. The crimson fountain paused, then, against every law of nature, reversed. The blood didn't just stop; it retracted. Elderaan sculpted the massive volume of fluid, raising it with an invisible, psychic force.
The torrent of life-force coiled, then snapped upward, forming a towering, semi-translucent wall that crested around them. It rose from the floor to the ceiling—a vibrant, pulsating curtain of living red. The blood was a moving barrier; it did not congeal but remained unnervingly fluid, constantly shifting, like a contained, miniature storm of thick rain.
With his wall fully formed and pulsing with contained energy, Elderaan disregarded the throat column clutched in his grasp, letting the clean white bones and torn flesh fall next to the deceased attendant with a soft, wet thud.
King Elderaan never let his eye drift from the troublesome woman, gauging her reaction, testing her resolve. Her eyes never faltered. She didn't flinch or even look at the dead body. She calmly ran her fingers in slow, easy circles around the rim of her dwindling drink. Whatever Jasper had done to turn such a simple girl into steel was sensational.
Their eyes remained locked as the rushing waters of the boy's blood completed a semicircle. The wall was not perfectly opaque; it was a deep, shimmering crimson that allowed them to vaguely see the terrified, frozen court beyond, but only as distorted, watercolor figures. It perfectly sealed off their corner, not just a visual obstruction, but a profound, suffocating sound barrier. The tavern's loud silence became an absolute vacuum within the bloody oasis for two.
Crimson clashed against Daniella's looming, earthy green orbs—a direct clash of wills. Outside, the court remained frozen, silent, and blind to their conversation.
"A discussion is long overdue!" the King said, his voice now a mere whisper that nonetheless vibrated with lethal purpose in their enclosed space.
"Is it! I am overjoyed to be called upon by the supreme King!" Though her words were those of subservient bootlicking, her voice remained flat and entirely lacking in sincerity.
King Elderaan's hard eyes narrowed on her. A ghost of amusement flickered in his gaze. "Let us not lie to one another, child! One conversation may dictate the course of your young life."
Daniella smirked ever so slightly. It had been a long time since she considered herself young. The concept of survival was silly after so many lifetimes. "I will be as honest as I can be, Your Majesty!"
"In three days, all princesses will be sent to fight the trolls. Another trial to become queen of the demon kingdom." Daniella didn't flinch. She knew Jasper was ruthless, but nothing he did was random.
"A kingdom is a great prize! It should not come easy!" Answers to her questions would have to wait for Jasper. As much as she wanted to tear his flesh from the bone, the oath between them required restraint.
"Loyalty is useless, child. Power, that is the real treasure! And I am prepared to offer it with few conditions… because now your very survival is at stake!"
Sighing deeply, Daniella was no longer interested in men dangling carrots for her to grab.
"When you join my bloodline, you may ask for anything! The realm of man and monsters at your feet! Your secrets safe, no troll fight ahead!" His words were simple, to the point. A king did not beg; he left no room for choice.
"Since we are at the end of a road, I will not lie to you! I want power and freedom in equal measure!" If three days was all she had, then a lie wasn't a useful shield. And truth could do little harm.
"You are too greedy, girl. A woman can't have everything! But with me, the scale will be tipped in your favor."
Taking a small sip from her drink, she shook her head. "Supreme King Elderaan, I beg your forgiveness. But you can't offer me anything! Crown Prince Eric would be my king and husband, in this world you are weaving!"
"My son is under my control! He will not bother you!" King Elderaan waved away her concern as if it were fine dust.
Pushing back in her seat, she raised her brow at him. "Your son bothers me now. He has attacked me multiple times! If I have to choose between the quick death of trolls or the cruelty your son offers, I know my fate!" she stated clearly, her eyes gleaming with certainty.
"Very few princesses live their lives with the man they chose on the marriage market!" he said simply.
Daniella wasn't sure if this was a threat that Jasper would die at Eric's hands, or that he didn't expect his son to survive the clash. "In the demon realm, I have a plan. In your kingdom, I would have to cling to something as flimsy as hope. If I would be so bold as to speak to the mind of the King, hope is for fools and dead men!"
"You loved my son for a time, do you not see a path to that love?"
"I never loved your son! I did not know him. When we choose power, love is no longer available. As you said, a woman must manage her greed!"
Standing to his full height, King Elderaan straightened his jacket as the girl rose as well, before bowing low, her head pointed at the floor. "In three days you will die a princess, not the queen you strived to be."
From what he knew about Daniella, she had a survival instinct that was unmatched. She may need time to drop her pride, but she would come around in time. The only thing he needed to do was put a leash on his son until the two married.
With a simple, unhurried wave of his hand, the veil of blood cascaded to the ground, as if gravity had finally won out. Without regard, pints of thick, congealed blood rained down on the tavern patrons close enough to be affected, Daniella receiving the worst of it.
As the cold, gelatinous fluid splashed her hair and clothes, she remained bowed and composed, only lifting her head after the appropriate amount of time. Her demure expression never faulted. "Your Majesty, thank you for your recognition!" She said the flowery words, once again lacking sincerity.
Taking the opportunity presented, Miguel took over the King's position, looking down at her sorry state. "Challenging a king is foolish!" he chided, his tone lacking the airy quality that other men seemed to possess naturally.
"What makes you think I challenged his Majesty?" she asked, as her vision began to swim ever so slightly. All the drinks were finally catching up with her. Unexpectedly, Miguel reached out and swiped away some blood starting to drip down her face before it could meet her eyes.
"People like you cannot help yourselves." Extending his elbow toward her, he gestured for her to grab hold of him. "Come, I'll bring you back to his room." Both of them knew exactly who the 'he' he was referring to was.
As much as Daniella did not wish to see Jasper, they were tied together in a way that was not easily unraveled. And when her faculties were low, it was best to be near an ally, even if their betrayal was still stinging.
Daniella took his arm, and they left the tavern. The noise of its rowdy walls fell silent the moment they passed through the threshold.
As their slow steps echoed across the nearly empty halls, Daniella felt her mind begin to become fuzzy with each step. Closing her eyes, she rested her palm against her forehead, wondering if she truly drank enough to be so intoxicated. She felt confused about how she could be so inebriated out of the blue.
"Are you okay?"
His words felt as if they were trying to press into her mind, her scattered consciousness pulling away from his grasp. Her head screamed in agony.
"What is this?" she asked, as her voice became shrill. Daniella had drank herself into a stupor more than a few nights. This was not natural. Her head ached, and her body felt empty, hungry! It twisted in pain. This growing hunger inside of her demanded attention, as if it was searching, trying to find exactly what she was hungry for—not just a meal, but what her soul wanted most, what it craved.
Miguel watched in fascination as she tried to fight his influence. She couldn't see it, but swirling white bone dust attached itself to her slick, blood-soaked skin, seeping beneath its flesh, taking root in her very being.
"Come with me, my darling!" Every word he spoke was an enchantment, subtle pressure pulling at her inner soul.
The gems covering Daniella's neck and wrists began to pulse with a low, deep thrum—not in response to an attack, but to the deep, primal sensation of being threatened.
"Get out of my head!" Daniella screamed at the top of her lungs. She shoved herself backward, pushing off Miguel's chest with a violent, adrenaline-fueled heave. Her body scrambled away from him as she stared, her eyes crazed, seeing multiple versions of him—a phantasmal ring of mocking faces surrounding her. The bone mask that perpetually covered Miguel's face seemed to peel back, and though Daniella couldn't discern a normal face, she saw only an endless, swirling vortex—the very essence of death, hell, and terror mixing together.
Panting, Daniella fell backward. The black mist, inky and absolute, began to swirl around her form, taking on the dense texture of smoke. But from the gems on her neck, something else erupted. A brilliant, sickening green fog burst from her collar and wrists, clinging immediately to the black shadows. The two types of magic didn't clash; they instantly and fiercely united, forming a cloud of black-and-veridian energy that pulsed with wicked, terrifying intention, waiting for her command.
Miguel instinctively took a step back, his eyes widening in shock. He knew Jasper's shadows, but the green haze was something other, something viciously potent and unknown.
For a fraction of a moment, her hazy eyes fell on Miguel's form. That was all the command the coalesced energy needed.
The combined, volatile magical cloud exploded outward. It wasn't a gentle push; it was a targeted, focused catapult of energy.
The inky shadows solidified into a fist of pure kinetic force, while the virulent green mist clung to the impact point, amplifying the effect with a caustic sting.
"Agh!" Miguel grunted, his feet skidding on the polished floor. He tried to brace himself, raising his arms in a desperate, last-second attempt to summon a bone-dust shield, but the force was too fast, too potent. The impact hit him mid-chest, stealing his breath and shattering his resistance.
He was thrown backward with the velocity of a projectile. The sitting room door, which he had just closed, offered no resistance; he flew through the ornate wooden barrier with a sickening crack-K-K! The door frame splintered into kindling, and Miguel slammed hard into the stone wall across the hall, leaving a distinct, body-shaped impression in the plaster before crumpling to the floor in a heap of blood and debris.
She rushed through the halls, her eyes blurry and unseeing, driven by the pure, desperate hunger Miguel had amplified. But she knew the way. Even with her eyes closed, she would know exactly how to get to his room.
"Daniella, I need to speak with you!" The voice before her was firm and recognizable.
" I have had enough of your highbrow attitude. We all made a deal. To stick to our princes—" Heather yelled in frustration, stepping directly into Daniella's path, her hand raised in a dismissive gesture.
"This is your only warning! Stay the hell—" Jaden screamed in her face, decorum be damned.
As the two berated Daniella, she felt the greed that Miguel had planted inside her explode. It found its target in the two women blocking her. **In the black haze of her mind, a single, violent thought formed: I want them gone. I want to destroy them.
Daniella's entire body stiffened as a piercing, tearing pain assaulted her ribs. Her hand shot up to the area to feel a sticky warmth; blood was leaking from a deep gash, a price paid for her earlier magical exertion.
From the bleeding wound on Daniella's side, a raw, sharp green arrow of pure, condensed energy shot forth with an audible, high-pitched whine. It was her own uncontrolled power, venting violently from her fractured physical vessel. The arrow did not slow or waver. Just before reaching the two princesses, the force cleanly split into two identical, lethal streaks.
One piece entered Jaden's body, striking her directly in the sternum. The other piece simultaneously hit Heather's chest.
Jaden and Heather froze mid-shout. Their skin did not explode, but began to vibrate at a high, agonizing frequency. Their bodies were enveloped by the sickly green light, and they were suspended a foot above the floor.
The true horror began as the force went to work, acting with a cold, terrifying surgical precision.
The women's bodies violently disassembled with agonizing slowness. It was not a tear, but an unknitting. The skin was the first to peel away, sliding back from the muscle beneath as if a tight casing was being meticulously unzipped. Next came the musculature. The dense, red fibers separated from the bone, each strand of sinew stretching into a fine, bloody thread before snapping back into a contained sphere of floating mass.
A chorus of wet snaps and grinding scrapes filled the hall—the sound of their ribs, pelvis, and limbs slowly being rendered into fine, powder-white fragments that joined a third, spherical mass. The vessels followed: veins, arteries, and capillaries were pulled taut from the organs, like dark ribbons being unspooled, before all the blood coalesced into a perfect, rotating orb.
Before them, where the two princesses had stood, were two independent, shimmering Globes of Death, suspended in the air. Each consisted of spheres of dense, white bone fragments; spheres of fluid, maroon blood; and spheres of fleshy, striated tissue. All three orbs floated precisely and systematically around a single, central object: a bright, glowing, intensely yellow core—the very essence of their magical life force—hovering in the middle.
Daniella didn't look at the carnage; she looked only at the glowing cores. The women watched, paralyzed, as whatever glowed at the center of each dismantled princess was rapidly siphoned off. The yellow light streamed through the air like liquid gold, rushing towards Daniella's chest where the green arrow had originated. As the two cores entered her body, the rush of stolen energy hit her like an electric shock, momentarily clearing the magical haze from her mind and replacing it with a burning, intoxicating power.
She walked away, stumbling slightly, as if she had not just done something unthinkable.
The women watched as Daniella's form disappeared around the corner. The two princesses, completely disassembled, still floated in the air—perfect, macabre circles displaying every single inch of what once made them alive. Both were utterly undiscernible as human beings.
After several seconds—a terrifying eternity—the control ended. The magical energy sustaining the formations vanished. Their flesh, blood, and bones, now all finite, separated particles, dropped to the floor in two sickeningly weighted, gelatinous plops.
Ashley couldn't hold it. Turning away, she hurled everything in her stomach. She could no longer look at what Daniella had made of them. She was a monster. Completely vicious and dangerous. And they had slept mere meters away from something so vile.
Daniella's hands glided across the walls, her eyes pulled shut as she could barely stand the residual haze glazing her vision. Her body was vibrating from the intense surge of stolen energy. Just as she reached Jasper's door, she pulled at the handle, only to find it locked.
With deep, heavy breaths that saw the green energy briefly leak from her lips like steam, she banged on the door.
Her voice a quiet rasp as she called for him, begging him to open the door. She needed him. She needed help.
Jasper's eyes flickered to the door as he heard the pounding on the other side and Daniella's weak voice. He smiled in satisfaction. It seemed his earlier "fun" had garnered her attention.
Author's note:
I just wanted to say thank you to everyone reading my book!