'I cannot believe I'm here again.'
Cassian Roarke Valenor, twenty-four years old, strode through the familiar yet unwelcome halls of the Purple House's manor. Each step echoed in the unnerving silence, a stark contrast to the lively bustle he remembered from his previous visits.
A few days ago, Elara—the crown princess and his cousin—had forced him into this tiresome errand. He was to speak with Lucian Faelith on Adrian Averin's behalf, ensuring the latter stopped his relentless pursuit of her and her betrothed. Cassian had resisted at first, but duty and a reluctant curiosity eventually swayed him.
Though he loathed indulging Lucian's tantrums, he had to admit there was a twisted satisfaction in putting the bratty Wasteling in his place.
'Yet, something about our last conversation hasn't sat right with me.'
Before Lucius Faelith, the heir to the Purple House, interrupted them, Cassian had felt something—an unsettling aura emanating from Lucian. It was strange because, as far as he knew, Lucian Faelith lacked the mana to wield magic.
He wanted to dismiss it as a mistake, yet the memory lingered, prickling at the edges of his instincts. The way the air had shifted, how his skin had prickled—it wasn't something easily ignored.
'It wasn't normal. Even for him.'
Now, as he walked deeper into the manor, he couldn't shake the unease creeping over him. The place was too quiet. The usual bustle of servants and guards was absent, leaving the halls eerily still.
'How odd. Last time, the house was teeming with staff. Where is everyone?'
Cassian's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. His years as a knight, as a protector of the kingdom and its royal family, had sharpened his senses. He could feel it now—a subtle, oppressive weight in the air. Danger.
When he reached Lucian's door, he stopped abruptly.
'This feeling again... It's stronger this time.'
That same dark energy he'd felt during their last encounter now pulsed from behind the door. It wasn't just unsettling; it was suffocating. Cassian wasn't easily shaken—he'd seen battle, faced death, and dealt it in return—but this... this was different.
'What the hell is going on in there?'
He knocked twice, his voice firm. "Faelith? Lucian Faelith, are you there?"
Silence.
Cassian reached for the door handle, his heart pounding hard and fast. The moment his hand touched the cool metal, the oppressive feeling intensified, slamming into him like a wave.
'Shit. Something is definitely wrong.'
"Faelith, open this door. Now. This is an order from the Captain of the Royal Knights!" His tone carried authority, but his demand was met with more silence.
A gasp startled him, and he turned sharply, his sword unsheathed and pointed at the source.
A maid stood there, trembling, a tray of cookies and tea precariously balanced in her hands. "L-Lord Cassian," she stammered, her voice shaky. "I... I'm Selene, His Grace's maid..."
Cassian's narrowed eyes studied her. She was frightened, her gaze flicking between him and the door.
"You have a key," he said coldly. "Open this door."
Selene shook her head vehemently. "I-I'm sorry, my lord. The Young Master gave strict orders. No one is allowed inside except the Duke of Averin."
'Adrian? Why in the name of the king would he even come here?'
"And has he arrived?"
"N-No, sir."
"Then he isn't coming," Cassian snapped. "Your master is a fool to believe otherwise. Follow my orders. Open the door. Now."
Before Selene could respond, a loud thud came from inside the room. Cassian's eyes widened, and Selene gasped, dropping the tray as she rushed to the door.
"Your Grace? Your Grace, are you okay? It's me, Selene!"
No answer.
"Y-Your Grace? Please, answer me!"
Still nothing.
Cassian didn't waste another second. "Step back," he ordered, his voice like steel. "Go call the guards. Inform Duke Faelith immediately and tell him to return at once."
"W-What are you going to do, my lord?"
"Just do as you're told."
Selene hesitated but obeyed, running down the hall, her voice calling for help. Cassian turned back to the door, taking a deep breath.
"Lucian Faelith, you really know how to make my life more complicated than it needs to be," he muttered under his breath.
He raised his palm, conjuring a ball of fire. Cassian wasn't just a knight; he was a fire mage, though he rarely relied on his magic. He preferred his strength and skill with a blade.
The fireball hurtled toward the door—and dissipated on impact. Not even a scorch mark remained.
"What the hell?" he muttered, his brow furrowing. Fire magic was one of the most destructive elements, and yet the door seemed impervious.
He tried again, this time channeling more power, the flames hotter and fiercer. The fireball shot forward, only to be dispelled mid-air, as if some unseen force swallowed it whole.
"This doesn't make any sense," Cassian growled, his unease deepening.
Whatever was behind that door wasn't normal—and he was running out of time to find out what it was.
Cassian's eyes flicked to the nearby window, narrowing in contemplation. It would be tedious to climb out, navigate the precarious ledges, and enter through Lucian's balcony, but it wasn't impossible.
'If the door won't budge, I don't have many other options.'
He exhaled sharply, already calculating the best approach. But before he could act, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. Cassian turned to see Selene rushing back, her face pale but determined. In her trembling hands, she held a ring of keys.
"My lord," she said, breathless. "I-I found the keys."
Cassian took them without hesitation, his gloved fingers brushing hers as he muttered a curt, "Good work."
He immediately moved to the door, his movements precise as he tried key after key until—click—the lock disengaged.
The oppressive aura intensified the moment the lock gave way, a suffocating pressure that made Cassian grit his teeth.
'It's stronger than before.'
He glanced at Selene, whose face was a mixture of fear and concern. "Stay back," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. "Let me go in first."
"But, my lord—"
"Selene," he interrupted, his voice sharp but not unkind. "Something's wrong in there. I need you to stay here. Are the guards on their way?"
"Yes," she replied, her voice trembling. "And I sent an urgent note to Duke Faelith as you instructed."
Cassian nodded. "Good."
Taking a steadying breath, he grasped the door handle again. The cold metal seemed to pulse beneath his fingers, as if alive. Slowly, he pushed the door open.
The metallic tang of blood hit him first. His eyes widened in shock as the sight before him registered.
A pool of blood spread across the floor like a dark, glistening lake. At its center lay Lucian Faelith, his pale form crumpled, a dagger protruding from his stomach. The blood was everywhere—soaking into the plush carpet, staining the edges of his silken robe, and pooling beneath his lifeless hand.
"Faelith," Cassian whispered, his voice barely audible. Then louder, "Lucian!"
He threw the door open and stepped inside, but the moment his boot touched the blood-streaked floor, a wave of nausea and weakness slammed into him. His knees buckled slightly, and he caught himself on the doorframe, his breathing ragged.
"ᚤᛚᛃ ᛇᛏᚾᛖ ᚾᛃᛋᚹᛗ"
His heart pounded in his chest, erratic and frantic, as whispers filled the air. They weren't audible in the conventional sense; they slithered into his mind, insidious and maddening. A strange language, ancient and otherworldly, chanted in a voice unmistakably Lucian's.
"ᛊᛟᛏᚹᛁᚾ ᛇᚾᛞᛇ ᛗᛃᛇᚾᛁᚲ"
"What... is this?" Cassian rasped, his vision blurring as the room seemed to warp around him.
"Y-Young Master!" Selene's scream pierced the haze, her frantic cries tugging at the edge of his awareness. She made to rush inside, but Cassian's arm shot out, blocking her path.
"ᛗᛟᛊᛏᛇᚾ ᛇᛞᛗᛇᛋᛏᚺᛖᚾ"
"Stay back!" he barked, his voice hoarse. "Don't come any closer!"
"But—"
"There's something wrong here," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "Something dark."
The oppressive weight in the room bore down on him, and for a moment, he felt as though he couldn't breathe. The whispers grew louder, clawing at his sanity. His body felt like it was being pulled—drawn inexorably toward Lucian's lifeless form.
"ᚾᛖᚨᛋᛋᛇᚺ ᚦᛟᚢᚾᛞᚺᛖᛚᛞ."
His knees threatened to give out as the pull intensified. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to leave, to run, but he couldn't move.
And then he heard it.
"Till life do us part."
Lucian's voice, clear and haunting, echoed in his mind.
Cassian's vision darkened, the room spinning as the suffocating aura closed in on him.
Then everything went dark.