Beyond the doors, Eryndor pounded harder, tears streaking his face as he screamed for his mother. But his cries went unanswered, the heavy wood muffling the horror unfolding within.
Eryndor leaned against the cold stone wall, his fists bruised and raw from pounding on the massive doors. His sobs wracked his small frame, the weight of helplessness crushing him. His world felt as though it was collapsing, and the only person who could save him was trapped beyond those doors.
"Mother…" he whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking.
"Eryndor?"
He turned sharply to see Maltida, his stepsister, approaching him. Her soft blonde hair framed her delicate features, and her eyes brimmed with what appeared to be concern. She reached out and hugged him tightly, but her lips curved into a devilish smirk that he couldn't see.
When they disengaged, Maltida's expression was transformed into one of pure innocence. Tears glistened in her eyes as she cupped his face and wiped away his tears with delicate fingers.
"Oh, Eryndor," she murmured, her voice trembling. "There's been a misunderstanding."
His heart raced as he grabbed her hands desperately. "A misunderstanding? What are you saying?"
Maltida gave him a sorrowful smile, sniffling as though she were holding back her own tears. "The maids… they added poison to Father's food and framed your mother. But don't worry, it's been cleared up. Her innocence has been proven."
The tension in Eryndor's chest loosened slightly, and a small smile broke through his anguish. "Really? That means… I can see her now?"
Maltida nodded with a soft laugh. "Of course, little brother. Come, I'll take you to her."
Without hesitation, Eryndor followed her, his trust in her unwavering. Maltida led him through the corridors of the palace, her hand gripping his reassuringly. However, as they exited through the back gate, he slowed down and frowned.
"Why are we going this way?" he asked, glancing around at the unfamiliar path.
Maltida smiled and patted his head affectionately. "Your mother went to collect some herbs. She wanted to make sure you're okay after everything. She asked me to bring you to her."
"Oh," Eryndor replied, nodding in understanding. "That sounds like something Mother would do."
The two walked on, Maltida keeping up a steady stream of conversation. She asked him about his studies, his favorite memories with Elyria, and even teased him about how much of a "mama's boy" he was.
Eryndor chuckled softly, his spirits lifting slightly despite the lingering fear. "Mother says I'm her little star. She believes in me."
Maltida's smile faltered for a moment, her hatred bubbling beneath the surface. "Of course she does," she said sweetly, masking her malice.
After a while, they reached a towering, ancient tree in a secluded area. Its massive roots twisted out of the ground like gnarled hands, and its branches stretched wide, casting deep shadows.
"Wait here," Maltida said, motioning to a large flat stone near the base of the tree. "I'll go fetch Mother. She's just a little farther ahead."
Eryndor nodded, sitting obediently on the stone. "Thank you, Maltida," he said sincerely.
She gave him one last smile, hiding the venom in her heart, and turned to leave. As soon as her back was to him, her face twisted into a triumphant smirk. Soon, you'll be nothing but a memory.
As she walked away, her mind wandered to the events leading up to this very moment. She remembered the dimly lit chamber where the plan had been hatched, a place hidden deep beneath the palace.
**********
Seraphina, her mother, stood at the center of the room, regal and imposing, her piercing eyes reflecting the flickering light of the torches. Queen Beatrix was seated beside her, her lips curved into a smile of satisfaction. Across from them stood two figures, each exuding an aura of otherworldly power.
The first was Lita, a fairy with an ethereal beauty that belied the darkness in her heart. Her translucent wings shimmered with a sinister iridescence, and her piercing gaze seemed to see into the souls of everyone present.
Beside her was an ancient wizard, his face weathered with age and his eyes glowing faintly with arcane knowledge. His name was Ragnor, a relic of the old world and a wielder of forbidden magic.
"The Creator's seal," Lita began, her voice melodic but dripping with disdain, "is powerful, but it is not infallible. It can be destroyed, but only under the right circumstances."
Ragnor nodded, his voice a gravelly echo. "The boy's seal is tied to his life force, his essence. Breaking it will cause him unimaginable pain. If he survives, he will be but a shadow of what he once was. If he does not…" He trailed off, letting the words linger.
Seraphina's lips curved into a smirk. "Then the King will finally see the truth. He'll believe the boy is a fraud, and his so-called destiny will crumble to dust."
Lita's eyes glinted mischievously. "But we need a bait. The boy is careful, and the Creator's protection surrounds him. We need someone he trusts, someone who can lead him willingly into the trap."
Beatrix leaned forward, her voice soft but cutting. "A bait?"
Lita turned her gaze to Seraphina. "Indeed. Do you have anyone in mind?"
Seraphina's smirk deepened, her voice filled with satisfaction. "Maltida."
Lita raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "The stepsister?"
"She's perfect," Seraphina continued. "Eryndor trusts her implicitly. He would follow her into the depths of the Abyss if she asked."
Lita laughed, a melodic sound laced with malice. "Then it's settled. With her help, we'll lure him out, destroy the seal, and let the King's rage do the rest."
Ragnor stepped forward, placing a small vial of shimmering black liquid on the table. "This will amplify the lightning's power. It will target the seal directly and unravel its magic. Use it wisely."
**********
Maltida's smirk deepened as the memory faded, her steps growing lighter as she left Eryndor behind. Everything was proceeding perfectly. With the seal gone, Father will see him for the fraud he is. And then… She didn't finish the thought, but the satisfaction in her heart was enough.
Minutes passed, and the air began to change. The wind grew colder, carrying an unnatural chill that prickled Eryndor's skin. He glanced around uneasily, a strange hum filling the air.
Then, without warning, the sky darkened, and a crackling red and black lightning bolt descended, striking the tree and engulfing him in a violent surge of energy.
Eryndor screamed, the sound ripping through the stillness of the forest. The lightning coiled around him like a serpent, digging into his skin and searing his flesh. The pain was unlike anything he had ever known, like molten fire coursing through his veins.
The two necklaces around his neck, symbols of his mother's protection glowed fiercely before shattering into countless pieces, scattering like fallen stars.
"Ahhh!" he cried, clutching at his neck as the seal there began to shine brightly, its intricate markings flaring with an intense, otherworldly light.
The lightning seemed to target the seal, striking it repeatedly. Each impact sent waves of agony through his body, his blood boiling and his vision blurring. He bled from his nose, eyes, and mouth, his body convulsing violently with every surge of energy.
"Stop!" he begged, his voice barely a whisper amidst the crackling thunder.
The seal resisted, glowing brighter as though trying to fight off the attack, but the relentless strikes wore it down. The intricate markings began to fracture, and the air was filled with the sound of a thousand cracks splintering at once.
Finally, with a deafening boom, the seal shattered. Eryndor's body went limp, collapsing onto the cold ground as the lightning ceased. His breathing was shallow, his skin pale and glistening with sweat.
The forest fell silent, the unnatural energy dissipating into the night. Maltida, watching from a distance, smirked with satisfaction. The first step is done, she thought, turning to leave without a backward glance.
Eryndor lay unconscious under the ancient tree, his body broken and barely alive, the faint glow of his shattered seal flickering weakly before fading into darkness.