Ever since Damien reported the incident from the royal hunt, the King had ordered investigations, even summoning cryptozoologists from distant lands to study the remains of the creatures. Yet, just a day later, those remains had crumbled into smoke, vanishing into nothing, leaving behind no evidence to analyze. It was as if the rogues had never existed at all.
And so, with no fresh attacks, no evidence, and no answers, the court quietly buried the matter. The King had declared punishnt for two of the princes and that was what now held their focus.
Cassian and Damien were dragged out from the throne room by armored guards. Their wrists were bound in heavy chains and they were shoved forward until they stumbled across the stones and fell to their knees before the raised poles at the center of the courtyard. The silence was tense, broken only by the rattling of chains as the two princes were forced into position.
"Strip them."
Severin remained in the throne room, overlooking what was happening from the window. He had been wondering how Cassian had co to know about Damien’s corruption.
He’s been careful enough not to give out even a hint especially when he went to get him blood. Had he tracked them? That was impossible. Severin was the master of perfection there was no way it was his slip up. It had to be sothing else...
The King’s command ca from a distance.
The guards yanked harshly at the fabric of their shirts, baring their backs to the scorching sun. A collective murmur swept through the crowd as their pale, muscled flesh was revealed. Then ca the whip.
It was not a simple leather lash. This was an Eclipsefang, forged with embedded shards of iron designed to cut through flesh and drain the strength of whatever creature it struck. It was a weapon not ant for mortals but for breaking the spirits of wild, powerful beasts.
And today, it would taste the blood of the princes.
Cassian went first.
The first crack of the whip split the air like thunder. It struck his back with brutal precision, tearing the flesh and sending blood streaking down his spine. He jerked forward, pulling his hands against the chains that bound him, but he made no sound.
Again the whip fell. And again. And again. A hundred tis.
By the end of it, his back was a canvas of bloody stripes and his body was trembling with pain. Still, Cassian never scread. He gritted his teeth, clenched his jaw tight tight as his eyes burned with silent defiance. When it was finally over, he collapsed against the post, his breaths coming out shallowly. Guards released him from the chains and dragged him away. He still held his head held high even as his body sagged from exhaustion.
The nobles whispered in awe. What could they say? Cassian would prefer to die than hurt his pride.
Then ca Damien’s turn.
The guards tightened the chains on his wrists until the iron cut into his skin. He knelt at the pole, his hair falling loose around his face and his bare back exposed to the rcy of the weapon. He closed his eyes and exhaled once, long and slow.
The whip fell.
A searing pain tore across his back, hotter than fire, sharper than steel. He bit down on his lip to keep from groaning. The second strike ca, then the third, and with each lash, his strength bled out of him. Unlike Cassian, Damien’s punishnt was more than just a hundred whips.
Ten. Twenty. Fifty. A hundred.
The whip dug deeper, pulling his flesh apart until his back was nothing but torn muscle and blood. But worse than the pain of torn flesh was the strange, draining sensation. This whip was feeding on him, pulling the energy from his very blood. His limbs grew heavy and his body weaker with every strike.
Two hundred. Three hundred.
The sound of it echoed through the courtyard, each lash louder than the one before. The nobles shifted uncomfortably now. So looked away. The cruelty of it was beyond punishnt—it was torture.
Four hundred.
Damien’s breath ca ragged and his vision was already blurring. He clenched his fists so tightly the chains cut deeper into his wrists. His head dropped forward bringing his hair falling over his face even his sweat dripping to the stones below.
Five hundred.
The final lash fell with a sound like a thunderclap. Damien collapsed against the pole, his back now nothing but a bloodied ruin and his strength completely drained. The guards released him, and his body crumpled to the ground, motionless.
Everyone watched in silence as his limp body was dragged across the courtyard, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
He was dumped brashly at the door of his quarters. No servants were sent to tend to him. No healers. He was to suffer alone.
The door slamd shut.
Damien lay there for hours.
The sun rose higher in the sky shining its hot light on his wounded back. He drifted in and out of consciousness, his mind fogged with pain. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t call out. All he could do was breathe and even that was shallow, ragged and painful.
The hours passed by and he was still there.
Then, a sudden gust of wind rushed into the courtyard. It was violent and furious, as if the air itself had been disturbed by sothing greater.
Damien stirred, fluttering his eyelids open. He forced himself onto his knees even when his body scread in protest against it. His bloodied hands gripped the doorfra behind him as he tried to steady himself.
The wind grew stronger. His hair whipped across his face stinging his open wounds with the force of it.
And then, darkness. Total darkness.
The courtyard dimd unnaturally with shadows stretching long across it, swallowing the stones, the walls and the very air. Damien blinked to adjust his eyes to the thick darkness, but it wasn’t a vision it was real. The world itself had gone dark.
He staggered forward,searching the blackness.
With one arm on his ribs and the other in front of him, he tried to manoeuvre through the darkness when a sudden burst of light appeared.
A blinding, radiant light split through the darkness, flooding his vision. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes, his body trembling from the sheer intensity of it. It was sharp and yet it filled the space with sothing heavy and blindingly powerful.
A figure walked within it.
Damien narrowed his eyes, straining to see through the brilliance. Slowly, the shape of a person took form walking quietly towards him, as though the courtyard itself recognized their presence.
The figure radiated like the sun, its aura glowing with a mixture of majesty and sothing far more unsettling. Damien remained fixed on the spot, unable to divert his eyes from the glowing figure.
His instincts gnawed at him to defend himself, but his body was just too weak. He clenched his fists anyway, standing his ground. If this thing was here for a fight, he wouldn’t be the loser.
The figure drew closer. Step by step.
Finally, it lifted its face.
The light shifted, just enough for Damien to see the sharp lines of an otherworldly face.
Damien’s breath caught in his throat.
The figure opened its mouth and...
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