Garron Vale hurriedly returned to his lord's side, his pulse quickening as he observed Lord Malric Draeger's grave expression. The longer he stood there, the heavier his anxiety became. It was a rare sight to witness Lord Malric lose his composure and as the old saying warned, "The fury of a kind heart is the most destructive of all."
Just as Garron was lost in his troubled thoughts, the grand doors of the hall creaked open.
Lord Malric Draeger rose swiftly, his heart tightening in his chest. He already knew what or rather who was about to enter.
A tall figure stepped through the entrance, a presence that seemed to draw the warmth from the room. The flickering candlelight dulled against the obsidian-black of his tailored, ancient-styled garb - elegant and regal, yet ominous in its cut and shade. It cast an unsettling, almost predatory aura over the gathering.
A hush fell over the assembled guests.
"How... how could this be?"
"At such a young age... and yet he looks so..."
Murmurs broke the silence, their words tinged with equal parts fear and awe.
Women found their gazes drawn to his face devastatingly handsome, sharp features chiseled like stone, his pale skin made all the more ethereal by the darkness that clung to him like a second skin.
One lady leaned toward another, her voice a breathless whisper.
"He's so handsome... curse or not, just look at him."
"I know... it's almost unnatural."
Yet Lucien Draeger paid no mind. His face was a mask of ice. His sharp, unblinking gaze swept across the hall, noting every face, every whisper, every cowardly flicker of fear poorly concealed behind polite smiles.
Lord Malric, his heart heavy with conflicting emotion, hurried to greet him.
"Ah, there he is... my beloved son," Malric murmured, embracing Lucien tightly.
The boy did not return the gesture.
"You're finally here," Malric whispered so only Lucien could hear.
No reply. Lucien Draeger's face remained as unreadable as a frozen lake in winter.
He took his seat beside his father, wordless, his presence more a shadow than a man. The gathered nobles exchanged glances. So this was him, the heartless, cursed son of Lord Malric Draeger.
It was his seventeenth birthday.
Lord Malric, masking his worry, turned to attend his guests. He gestured for Lucien to come greet them, to offer a gesture of unity, a courtesy at least. But it was plain to see Lucien had no intention of doing so. He remained seated, his cold gaze burning holes into the walls around him.
At last, Lucien rose.
Malric's heart lifted for a moment, thinking his son might finally yield to his duty.
But Lucien spoke instead.
"Father... I hope you'll allow me to take my leave."
A stunned silence followed.
"Already? No, my son... you've only just arrived."
"Please... stay a little longer," Malric pleaded.
The suffocating weight of the watchful stares gnawed at Lucien's nerves. His inner voice cursed this entire gathering.
Gods... I knew it was a mistake coming here.
As he turned to retreat to his chair, a cruel, careless conversation reached his ears. Venom disguised as laughter.
"Did you know his mother died because of him?"
"Of course - and look at him, acting like royalty. Who does he think he is?"
"The son of the tribe head, or should I say... the cursed son."
The words struck like daggers.
Lucien's jaw clenched, his fists so tight his nails pierced his skin.
Enough.
The air itself seemed to shudder.
A sinister mist began to coil through the vast hall. It was no ordinary smoke or no scent of fire, no crackle of flame. Instead, a chilling cold swept over the room, seeping into the bones of every soul present. Whispers died. Laughter ceased.
Some staggered back, horror dawning in their wide eyes.
"This... this is the Dark Spell of Fury!" someone cried.
Panic erupted. Nobles fled, their elegant robes rustling like frightened birds in a storm. The walls themselves seemed to pulse with unnatural energy.
Lord Malric, his vision swimming, forced his way through the chaos toward his son. But the closer he came, the heavier the air grew, his limbs sluggish as though wading through water. He reached for Lucien's shoulder, but darkness devoured his sight. The last thing he heard before collapsing was the desperate voice of an old woman.
"Lucien... Lucien! No, child - come back to your senses!"
"Lucien!"
Then - nothing.
---
A Few Hours Later...
Lord Malric Draeger's bedchamber
Malric's eyes opened slowly. The heavy curtains filtered the daylight, casting long shadows on the walls. His head pounded. Fragments of memory clung to him like tattered ghosts.
What... happened?
Then it struck him.
Lucien.
Panic gripped him. He forced himself upright.
"Where is my son?"
Just as he staggered to his feet, the door creaked open.
Lucien Draeger entered expressionless, composed, his obsidian gaze betraying nothing.
"How do you feel, Father?"
Relief broke through Malric's terror.
"Thank the heavens... you're safe."
Lucien moved to call the physician, but Malric's voice halted him.
"Wait... my son. Sit with me. I need to speak with you. I should've done this long ago."
Lucien gave a small, unreadable nod.
They sat opposite one another. The space between them heavy with things left unsaid.
Without a word, Malric retrieved a box wrapped in fine silks and velvet. Inside rested a silver pendant , a crescent moon cradling a shadowed orb.
"My son... I've wronged you." Malric's voice trembled.
"I know what you endure. I should have been there for you."
Lucien's jaw tightened.
"Words won't change anything...Father."
"No. But perhaps I can still protect you. I've seen fifty winters... and I may not have many left. This pendant - it has belonged to our bloodline for centuries. On my seventeenth year, my father entrusted it to me. And now... it is yours."
Lucien regarded the pendant with narrowed eyes.
"What's so special about it?"
Malric hesitated.
"It's said... one born beneath the Blood-Red Moon Eclipse would inherit the ancient curse of the Umbren Tribe. That child would carry a power too terrible to be contained."
A silence stretched between them.
"The chaos... before I collapsed. That was you, wasn't it?"
Lucien looked away, his jaw set.
A barely perceptible nod.
"So I am cursed. Why not cast me out, then? Disown me. It would be easier for you."
Malric's voice broke.
"Because you are my son."
"This pendant isn't just to protect you... it is to protect others from what you have yet to fully understand."
Lucien's lips twisted into a bitter smile.
"I knew it."
"Listen to me," Malric urged.
"You are young. There are truths yet buried secrets you were never told. Wear this... and never remove it. Its power may one day save you."
Lucien took the pendant, fastening it around his neck.
His gaze remained cold, but in its depths... a flicker of something else.
"A monster... a threat. That's what I am."
"No. You are my heir. And the future of our tribe rests in your hands. May the Holy Watchers shield you... and may you find the strength to break what binds you."
Lucien stared at him, unspoken questions crowding his mind. But the words refused to come.
Malric, sensing his son's torment, spoke once more.
"I love you my son, Lucien. No matter the darkness within you you are my blood. This curse won't endure forever. One day, it will break."
Without another word, Lucien left the chamber, his heart heavy, his expression unreadable.
Malric sighed.
He turned to Selene's portrait his late wife's painted eyes forever watching.
A tear slid down his weathered cheek.
"My lady... I failed. I was afraid. I denied what I saw... and now, the truth stands before me. I swear upon your memory , I will protect him. And this time... I won't let history repeat itself."
To be continued.....
Chapter 6....