The throne room buzzed with tension, whispers leaking through the cracks of the towering marble pillars like smoke before a fire. Maids kept their heads low. Guards stood rigid. The weight of betrayal hung thick in the air.
At the foot of the throne, Commander Rhodes knelt, wrists bound, blood dried along the edge of his missing arm. Two royal guards stood on either side, spears crossed, forming a wall between him and his king.
King Velrick sat forward, his expression unreadable but his knuckles pale as they gripped the arms of his throne.
"Commander Rhodes," the king's voice echoed. "Did you try to assassinate Prince Daemon? Was it at the command of Duke Elias?"
"No, Your Majesty! I didn't!" Rhodes shouted, eyes wide with disbelief. "He gave me the sword—he stabbed himself! This is all a setup!"
"Enough!" the king snapped, rising from his seat. "Your own soldiers witnessed you holding the weapon as the prince bled at your feet!"
Rhodes clenched his teeth. "Because he planned it! That boy is no prince—he's a demon wearing a crown!"
A sharp silence followed.
Velrick's voice lowered. Cold. Dangerous.
"You speak of a prince of Varyndor. An act against him is an act against the royal bloodline. A war between our kingdoms would be inevitable. You know the stakes, Commander."
The king slammed his fist on the throne arm. "You of all people should know what treason costs!"
Rhodes opened his mouth to speak, but the look in Velrick's eyes silenced him.
"Take him to the dungeon."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
The guards yanked Rhodes to his feet and dragged him through the echoing halls.
•••••
Down in the stone corridors beneath the palace...
The cold walls of the dungeon welcomed them with dripping silence. As the iron door creaked open, Rhodes glanced back at the soldiers escorting him.
"You two," he said quietly. "You know me. You've fought beside me. Do you really think I'd betray this kingdom?"
One of the soldiers hesitated. "We don't, Commander. Honestly... we've all had doubts about that prince since he arrived."
"The king's just shaken," the second whispered. "His wife turned on him. His own uncle's leading a rebellion. He's grabbing onto whatever loyalty he can."
Rhodes exhaled slowly. "Good. Then there's still hope."
As they reached the cell, the guards helped him inside gently—more like friends than jailers—and locked the heavy bars behind him.
"We'll find a way to prove your innocence, Commander," one of them said. "You're not alone in this."
They turned and left, leaving Rhodes in the dim flickering torchlight.
He sank to the floor, head resting against the wall.
"Prince Daemon..." he muttered, eyes burning with determination. "You may have fooled them for now. But I'll expose you. Even if it costs me everything."
"And who said you're allowed to expose my lord, human?"
The voice was sweet—almost melodic—but to Rhodes, it sounded like poison wrapped in silk. His blood ran cold.
He turned toward the cell entrance.
There she was.
Nyxtriel.
Her pale skin shimmered faintly in the dungeon torchlight. Crimson eyes gleamed with cold amusement. But what truly made Rhodes's stomach twist was what dangled from her hands.
Drip. Drip.
Two heads.
The soldiers who had escorted him—the only ones who believed in him—now dead, their necks jagged and leaking onto the stone floor.
"No..." Rhodes gasped, his breath shallow. "No... How did you—"
He dropped to his knees and vomited violently onto the ground.
"Eww," Nyxtriel wrinkled her nose. "Human bile. Smells as disgusting as your kind."
She stepped forward. Her slender arm extended—and with a casual motion, shattered the cell door like it was made of glass.
Rhodes scrambled back, dragging himself across the ground with his one good hand, eyes wide with horror. "You MONSTER! I HATE YOU DEMON! What do you want from me?! You kill innocent people for fun—don't you even understand what sympathy is?!"
Nyxtriel stared at him. Not coldly—just blank. Like he was a bug crawling near her boot.
"I don't understand human emotions," she said flatly. "Why would I waste time mourning for the weak? Besides, my father spared you. Took your arm instead of your life. That's mercy, isn't it?"
"Mercy?" Rhodes spat. "He slaughtered civilians! CHILDREN! He toys with people like they're insects—he has no value for human life!"
"Why should he?" she said, her voice low and calm. "Humans are selfish. Fragile. Unworthy. My father gives you more than you deserve by letting you breathe."
"You..." Rhodes trembled. "You're not even human. You're just a blade pretending to be a woman!"
Nyxtriel didn't flinch. "Correct."
He glared at her. "So what now? You here to kill me? Finish what he started?"
She tilted her head slightly. "No. He didn't send me."
That caught Rhodes off guard.
"What?"
Nyxtriel smiled faintly, her lips curving into something almost gentle. It made her even more terrifying.
"My lord is resting... recovering from the wound you gave him. He wouldn't waste time on you." She leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "But I came here on my own. I figured you'd try something foolish. Like convincing the king."
Rhodes froze.
"And now," she continued, "I'm going to kill every prisoner in this dungeon and leave you alive... with this."
She dropped something beside him.
A sword.
Dripping with blood.
"What... no—wait—" Rhodes stammered.
Screams rang out from deeper in the dungeon.
"What the hell?!"
"They're dead! All of them!"
Heavy footsteps echoed. Rhodes reached for the sword—but it was too late.
Nyxtriel's body shimmered and dissolved into mist, her voice echoing in the air.
"Enjoy your new title, traitor."
Moments later, guards burst in. Their eyes locked on Rhodes—surrounded by bodies, holding a bloody blade.
He opened his mouth to speak—
But the words wouldn't come.
They saw only a murderer.
He saw only the trap.
And Nyxtriel's laughter echoed faintly through the stone corridors, like the whisper of a nightmare that wouldn't end.