Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 243. Pain And Anger I
Angel and Rose made their way back to their chambers. The bustling corridors, which had teemed with courtiers and guests just hours before, had grown quiet. The castle itself seemed to exhale, settling into a peaceful stillness as everyone sought rest.
Upon returning to their chamber, Angel's first order of business was to bolster their security. The attempted assassination earlier had been a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked within the castle's shadowy corners. He couldn't afford another attempt on his life, especially with the impending confrontation with Ilex. But of course, this was only his trick.
He made his request known to King Gervis, who, understanding the situation, readily granted it. The guards stationed outside their chamber doubled, their vigilance sharpened to a fine edge. Each sentinel stood as an unwavering bulwark against the darkness.
Not only did King Gervis fortify their room with additional security measures, but he also ordered the guards to maintain a vigilant watch over Ilex's quarters. The wayward prince, driven by a turbulent mix of pride and vengeance, had proven himself capable of reckless acts. King Gervis had his most trusted guards stationed outside Ilex's door, their mandate clear: prevent any rash or ill-conceived actions.
The night wore on, and darkness descended. The shadows deepened, shrouding the stone walls in an inky veil. Within the royal quarters, lay Ilex. His form was still and prone upon the bed. His eyes, heavy with pain and weariness, drifted upwards towards the canopy above.
Pain coursed through his body, an unrelenting agony that pierced his very core. It was a pain born of his own choices, the consequences of a misguided quest for power and revenge. His clenched fists, a testament to his inner turmoil, rested atop the coarse sheets that covered him.
In the quiet of the night, the castle seemed to hold its breath, as if bearing witness to the suffering of the fallen prince. The silence was palpable, broken only by the occasional distant echo of footsteps, as the castle's vigilant guards patrolled the corridors, ensuring security.
The events of the day had been a bitter pill to swallow, one that had left a foul taste in his mouth. As he stared at the shadowy canopy overhead, his thoughts turned inward, and the bitterness surged.
'Angel,' he seethed internally, the name a venomous hiss within his mind. He couldn't help but curse the man who had become the bane of his existence. The one who had thwarted his plans, shattered his ambitions, and now, humiliated him before the entire guests.
'You arrogant, wretched fool,' Ilex thought, his fingers clenching into fists once more. He longed for Angel's demise, for the taste of vengeance to soothe the torment of his pride. In the depths of his soul, he wished for Angel to be dead, to never stand in his way again.
The day's accident, the failed attempt to assassinate the man who now ruled Euphorion, had been a devastating blow to his already fragile ego. It wasn't just a physical wound that gnawed at him; it was the gaping wound to his pride that festered within. He had been so sure of himself, so convinced that he could eliminate his nemesis and seize power.
Yet, instead of victory, he had been met with humiliation, his desperate ploy exposed for all to see. It was a humiliation that cut deeper than any sword, a stain on his name and his family's honor.
As he lay there, nursing his physical and emotional wounds, Ilex's thoughts swirled with curses and dark wishes. He hoped for Angel's downfall, for a day when the man who had stolen his birthright would meet a bitter end.
But for now, he could do little more than nurse his anger and nurse his wounds. The darkness of the night pressed in around him, a reflection of the darkness that had enveloped his heart. In the quiet of his chamber, he plotted his revenge, vowing to reclaim what he believed was rightfully his, even if it meant cursing the very name of the man who had thwarted him at every turn.
Little did he know, from the inky blackness that shrouded one corner of the room, a shadowy figure began to take shape. It emerged silently, a specter born of the dark aura that hung heavy in the chamber. There was no sound, no telltale footsteps to betray its approach. It was as if the figure had materialized from the very shadows themselves.
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