Theodora shivered in the dim chamber, her wrists bound with chains that hummed faintly with dark energy. Shadows danced across the cold stone walls, flickering like whispers of tormented souls. The air was heavy with the stench of blood and decay.
In the center of the chamber, the Demon Lord stood, his crimson eyes glowing with malevolence. He towered over his victims, his form shrouded in darkness that rippled like smoke. Before him knelt a trembling man, pleading for his life.
"No! Please spare me! I have a family—"
The Demon Lord tilted his head, amusement flickering across his sharp features. Without a word, he sank his clawed hand into the man's chest. A sickening crack filled the room as the man's scream died on his lips. Theodora recoiled, her stomach churning as blood splattered across the stone floor.
The Demon lord raised the lifeless body and open his mouth.
Razor-sharp fangs gleamed as he sank them into the man's neck , draining his blood in long greedy gulps. When he was finished, he lets the corpse drop to the floor like discarded meat.
Theodora gasped, her breathing ragged, she wanted to scream, to run but the chain held her fast.
The demon lord turned his gaze to her, wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his his hand
The Demon Lord raised the lifeless body and opened his mouth. Razor-sharp fangs gleamed as he sank them into the man's neck, draining the blood in long, greedy gulps. When he was finished, he let the corpse drop to the floor like discarded
"Fear looks good on you, princess," he said, his voice a low growl. "But you should save your tears. This is only the beginning."
Theodora pressed herself against the wall, trembling as he approached. "Why are you doing this?" she demanded, her voice shaking.
"Because fear breeds power," he replied, his voice echoing through the chamber. "And power… is everything."
He reached out and traced a clawed finger along her cheek, leaving a thin red line. Theodora flinched but refused to cry out.
"I would break you" he whispered . "And when you beg for mercy, I would remind you that there is none".
Theodora clenched her fists, her anger rising despite the fear in her heart.
The streets buzzed with murmurs as Tristan walked through the marketplace. Cloaked in shadows, his red eyes glowed beneath the hood he pulled low over his face. People whispered and pointed as he passed, their fear evident.
"That's him… the King's guards that has been Missing for three days now "
"But look at his eyes! He's cursed."
"He's no longer one of us."
Tristan ignored their words, his thoughts a chaotic storm. Hunger gnawed at him, sharp and insatiable. His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists, sharp claws threatening to tear through his gloves.
His reflection In a shop window made him pause. His once-soft features were hardened, his skin pale, and his glowing eyes—those cursed eyes—stared back at him like a predator.
"Stop looking at me!" he snarled, slamming his fist into the glass. It shattered, sending shards flying.
A woman screamed and backed away. Tristan bared his teeth, his breathing ragged as the hunger surged again. He staggered into a nearby alley, his body convulsing.
"No… no… I can fight this!" he growled.
But his veins pulsed with dark energy. His nails lengthened into claws, and his teeth sharpened into fangs. He slammed his hand against the wall, leaving deep gouges in the stone.
The hunger roared louder.
Suddenly, he heard voices approaching.
"Tristan!"
He turned sharply to see Marissa and Maria running toward him. Marissa's eyes widened in horror as she took in his monstrous form.
"Tristan, what's happening to you?" Maria whispered.
"Stay back!" Tristan shouted, his voice distorted and guttural.
Marissa stepped closer. "No, we won't leave you. We'll figure this out!"
Tristan's eyes flared, and for a moment, he considered running—but the hunger was too strong. His gaze locked onto Maria's neck, and his fangs ached.
"No!" he roared, stumbling backward. "Get away before I hurt you!"
Marissa grabbed his arm. "We're not leaving you behind! Fight it, Tristan! Fight it!"
Tristan fell to his knees, his claws digging into the dirt as he struggled against the transformation. The red in his eyes flickered, but the darkness still lingered.
"I… can't… hold it
Marissa and Maria exchanged a worried glance as Tristan collapsed, trembling and breathless. The air around him felt heavier, darker—charged with a sinister energy.
"We need to get him out of here," Marissa said, her voice urgent but steady.
Maria knelt beside Tristan, her hands trembling as she touched his shoulder. "Tristan, listen to me. We'll help you. But you have to stay in control."
Tristan's eyes flickered between red and their natural shade, his breath ragged as he fought the demon within. "I… I can't," he whispered. "You don't understand."
"We do!" Marissa snapped. "We know what's happening to you, and we're not letting you give in to it!"
Suddenly, the sound of armored boots echoed through the alley. The King's guards had arrived, their torches illuminating the shadows.
"There he is!" one shouted.
"No!" Tristan stumbled to his feet, his eyes glowing red again. The guards froze, weapons raised, fear evident in their stances.
"He's a demon!" another guard cried.
"Run!" Marissa yelled, grabbing Tristan's arm and pulling him along. Maria followed, her heart pounding as they weaved through the narrow alleys.
The guards gave chase, their shouts growing louder.
Tristan gritted his teeth. "I'll only slow you down!"
"Shut up and keep moving!" Marissa hissed, dragging him forward.
They burst into an open square, but more guards surrounded them.
"There's nowhere to run!" one of the soldiers sneered, stepping closer with his sword drawn.
Tristan growled, his fangs bared. "Then I'll fight."
"Tristan, no!" Maria cried.
But it was too late. Tristan lunged forward, his claws slicing through the air as the guards scrambled to defend themselves. Metal clanged against claws, and screams filled the square.
Blood splattered the cobblestones, and Tristan roared, his voice echoing through the night.
"Stop him!" a guard shouted, but none dared get too close.
Marissa grabbed Maria's hand. "We have to go before it's too late."
"What about Tristan?"
"We'll come back for him—we can't help him if we're captured!"
Tears streamed down Maria's face as she nodded, following Marissa into the shadows. Behind them, Tristan fought like a beast unleashed, his roars haunting For more.
The palace was silent, save for the soft crackling of the incense in the corner of the room. The Queen sat hunched over, her face streaked with tears, her hands clutching Theodora's childhood belongings—a small trinket or perhaps an old dress. Every sob that escaped her lips echoed through the cold stone walls, the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders.
Her heart was torn—half of her felt the burning anger of a mother unable to protect her child, the other half, an overwhelming dread, sensing that something far darker than she had ever imagined was unfolding.
In the midst of her grief, the shaman stood by the flickering fire, his eyes closed in concentration. His voice was low and melodic as he chanted in ancient tongues, the words so foreign that they seemed to reverberate with an unsettling power. Around him lay the remnants of a ritual—a circle of carved stones, blood-soaked herbs, and offerings of both mortal and spiritual nature.
The shaman had been performing this ritual for hours, praying to the gods, calling upon forgotten spirits to intervene. A flickering red light began to emanate from the flame, casting long shadows across the room. The Queen didn't notice. She was too consumed by her thoughts of Theodora.
"Is there no hope?" the Queen whispered, her voice hoarse. "Can nothing save my daughter?"
The shaman paused, his chanting slowing. His eyes flickered toward her, and though his expression was unreadable, his voice carried a somber note. "The Demon Lord's grip tightens around your daughter, but all is not lost. There are forces beyond even the Demon Lord's reach. There are ancient powers, forgotten by time."
"Then why is she still in his hands?" the Queen cried, her voice breaking. "I cannot bear this torment."
The shaman turned fully toward her, his face shadowed by the hood of his cloak. He raised his hands to the air, and a strange wind stirred the room. His voice grew louder, as though invoking something deeper than just the physical world.
"The blood of the innocent, the fire of the heart, the sacrifice must be made." He held up a dagger, its blade dark and gleaming in the dim light. "The balance of life and death must be tipped. Only then can the protection you seek be granted."
The Queen's eyes widened in horror as she realized what he was about to do. "No… No, I cannot—"
But the shaman had already moved to the center of the ritual circle, his voice growing louder. The Queen's hands trembled, but she didn't stop him.
"This is the only way," the shaman intoned, cutting the air with his chant as the blade glinted above the flame.
Suddenly, a low rumble filled the room, and the ground beneath them seemed to tremble. The Queen gasped, her eyes wide with fear.
"No…" she whispered, her gaze flickering between the shaman and the shadowed corners of the room, where the darkness seemed to grow.
The shaman's final words echoed ominously as he performed the final act of the sacrifice. The flame before him burst into a violent, crimson blaze. As the blood of the ritual sacrifice dripped onto the floor, the air thickened with a palpable energy—a warning, a promise, and a curse all in one.
The Queen, her chest tight with fear, could sense something shifting in the air—a sign that something far more dangerous was about to unfold, something tied directly to the Demon Lord, Theodora, and the very fate of the Kingdom.