The House of Aurelen
The castle of Aurelen lay in ruin.
The enemy's assault had not only torn through the city but had reached the very heart of the royal house itself. Walls that was once white and proud now bore the scars of flame. Windows were shattered, banners torn to ash, and the once-golden halls of House Aurelen was filled with the sounds of grief, Statues of long-dead kings and Queens lay shattered across the courtyard. Blood stained the marble floors, and the air was thick with the scent of smoke and burnt stone.
Smoke coiled faintly through the halls as the air reeked of iron and blood. Outside, bodies of soldiers and servants were being gathered from the courtyards, some wrapped in sheets, others still bearing the marks of sword and fire. The cries of the mourning echoed softly and the low murmur of prayers for the fallen, while the surviving palace workers laboured with weary hands to set the castle back in order. Broken furniture was dragged aside, the wounded were laid on stretchers.
King Maeric strode through the corridor, two knights following close behind. His once-regal robes were torn at the hem, his hand resting heavily on the railing as if the weight of the entire kingdom pressed upon his shoulders.
Just then knight rushed to him, bowing deeply before speaking.
"Your Majesty—the villagers are here."
"And the Vikings?" Maeric asked, his tone low but sharp, his face hardening as though he already knew the answer would not please him.
"They have begun raiding the eastern villages," the knight replied hesitantly.
At that, the king struck his fist hard against the oak railing beside him. The sound cracked through the hall like thunder.
"What have the knights been doing?!" he roared, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
"We are short of warriors, my King," the knight said, bowing low, his voice tight with shame. "Most of our men are still stationed in the Houses of Seliah and Verya…"
He trailed off as the king's hand rose to his chest. The colour drained from Maeric's face. His body trembled slightly, and the knights by his side stepped forward in alarm.
"Your Majesty?" one called, grasping his arm.
King Maeric's breath came sharp and uneven, yet with a surge of will he straightened,
With his voice strained but commanding he said. "Open the gates for the villagers," he commanded through clenched teeth. "Let them all in. No one stays outside the walls."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And summon Father Martin and the catechist," he added, his voice beginning to waver.
The knight bowed quickly and ran off. The two guards flanked the king at once, while the remaining guards supporter him as they led him towards his royal chambers.
---
Inside the royal chamber, King Maeric brushed off their helping hands.
"Leave me," he muttered, staggering toward the massive bed.
The knights stood near the door, torn between duty and obedience, their hands twitching toward their hilts__not out of defense, but helplessness.
"Your Majesty, you must__" one began.
"Leave__" the King rasped, his voice barely more than a growl.
"But, Your Majesty__"
"I said Leave!" he thundered, the force of his shout breaking into a hoarse gasp. He clutched his chest and collapsed forward, groaning through clenched teeth. The knights rushed instinctively, catching him before he hit the floor.
"Go… and get me… the priest… and the catechist," King Maeric managed between breaths, his words trembling with strain.
The knights exchanged a hesistant glance, then obeyed without question, sprinting down the corridor as the heavy doors slammed shut behind them.
Inside, the room fell into suffocating silence except for the King's ragged breathing that echoed. He tried to steady himself, gripping the silk sheets with trembling fingers. His body convulsed as he drew in another breath, pain clawing through his chest like a constant stab.
Then, the first drop of blood appeared.
It seeped slowly through the fabric of his tunic__black blood, staining the golden embroidery of the royal crest. The dark liquid spread outward, sluggishly.
King Maeric's eyes flickered open in terror and disbelief. He pressed a trembling hand against his chest, as if to hold the life within him from spilling out. But the black blood only thickened… and dripped to the bed.
He gasped once more, whispering to the empty room
"Mercy... not now…"
The flickering candlelight beside him trembled, and with it, his vision blurred fading into memory__memory of the Night of the Attack
While the Paladins fought fiercely in the capital, King Maeric had walked the castle grounds in search of his daughter, Princess Elowen. The Luth Demons roamed the corridors__horrid things wearing the faces of the dead, their eyes burning with unnatural hunger. He fought his way through them, not to slay but to survive, to break through. A mortal blade could wound them, but never end them__not without the divine steel wielded by the Order. He had neither time nor weapon for such battles.
He swung, dodged, and ran, driven by only one thought__ Find Elowen.
Then__he saw him.
A tall Paladin knight emerging from the shadows of the underground passage. In his arms lay the unconscious form of the princess. The knight walked calmly, almost eerily so, as though the chaos of battle meant nothing to him.
Relief surged through king Maeric's chest, knowing she was with a sanctum knight, but the joy didnt last as he noticed something odd about the tall knight
"Halt! !" the king commanded, his voice echoing down the court yard.
But the knight did not stop.
"I said, halt!"
The king commanded again making the knight halted. Slowly, the he turned his head toward the king__eyes as black as the void, a faint halo of dark smoke swirling around him like a living shadow.
Maeric's grip on his sword tightened.
"Release her at once" He command in a low tone and heavy with warning.
The knight didn't respond.
Then, suddenly the moving smoke detached from him, twisting into the shape of a shadowed entity, faceless and formless. It hovered before King Maeric, just watching silently.
The king's breath caught as he lifted his sword. Before he could swing, the thing moved faster, black limb lashed out, gripping his wrist mid-strike, then drove a sharp, finger-like spike through his shoulder, just above his full chest. .
A loud groan brust from King Maeric's throat as the force sent him staggering backward. The pain cold and unnatural. The shadow withdrew its hand in one swift motion, and blood spilled from the wound.
The world blurred. On his knees now, the king could only watch helplessly as the starnge. knight turned away, still carrying Princess Elowen into the dark. The entity sank back into the knight's body, reforming that same dark halo as the two disappeared into the smoke and ruin.
---
Inside the chamber, the king struggled alone. His breath came in ragged bursts as pain rippled through his chest.
King Maeric had hidden the wound from all but his most trusted circle__Sir Aldric, Father Martin, and Brother Kaius__fearing that news of his weakness would sow panic among the people. Even his daughter was kept in the dark.
Now, alone in his chamber, he trembled as the corruption in his blood spread, his breaths growing shallow.
"Hmm__ahh!" he groaned through clenched teeth, gripping the sheets tightly.
The doors burst open. Father Martin and Brother Kaius hurried in, the younger man shutting the door behind them.
Father Martin was at the king's side at once, tearing open the blood-soaked tunic when the ties refused to loosen. The bandages beneath were stained and smoking faintly. As he peeled them away, both men froze.
The wound had changed__no longer red, but blackened and pulsing, faint smoke coiling from it as if something inside was alive.
Father Martin exchanged a grave look with Brother Kaius.
"Holy water," he said.
Brother Kaius squated and took out a small bottle from the bag that they had brought in, handing it over.
The priest muttered a prayer under his breath and sprinkled the liquid across the wound. A sharp hiss filled the air__Like water sprinkled on a hot iron. The king's body jerked violently, Btother Kaius quickly pressed a folded cloth into his mouth to keep him from biting through his tongue.
Light smoke battled against the black one__holy and unholy clashing in thin wisps. Then slowly, the darkness went off. The king's breath steadied, and his trembling eased.
Father Martin lowered the flask, his brow heavy with sweat.
The king drew a long, ragged breath, then another, before turning to the priest.
"What… what was that?" he managed, his voice rough from the pain.
Father Martin frowned deeply, exchanging a quick glance with the catechist.
"I should be asking you, Your Majesty," he said solemnly. "You've been unconscious for days. We've no knowledge of what kind of demon could've done this to you." His gaze fell on the wound, brow creasing further. "From its nature… it was no Luth that struck you."
Beside him, Brother Kaius leaned in, studying the blackened flesh with an intense focus. The faint curl of dark smoke still rose from it, resisting the air like a living thing.
Noticing the catechist's silence, Father Martin asked
"Well, Brother, Any idea? Does it look familiar?"
Brother Kaius shook his head slowly. "No…. But I can tell you this much__whatever demon did this is a strong one." He paused, eyes narrowing on the faint hiss where holy water had touched the wound. "A single drop should have driven out its corruption completely. Yet it lingers still."
Father Martin's jaw tightened.
"This is no ordinary curse," he murmured.
With a deep sight Father Martin turned to the king who seemed to be in deep taught, trying to Recall how he got the injury and what demon did that to him,
"Do you Recall now, what demon it was?" Father Martin asked, as the kings bowed furrowed still trying to rack his brain as he couldnt Recall much of that Night especially that incident.