-The NARRATOR'S POV-
Here we go!
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The royal court of Chirosa was awash with hushed murmurs as Kael stepped into the grand hall, his boots echoing with unwavering determination. Cloaked in the icy blue crest of the Dominion, the half-werewolf prince moved with the weight of duty and defiance. Though his blood was diluted in the eyes of the pure-blooded nobles who lined the balconies, his stare held no hesitation.
Word had spread like wildfire—Prince Kaelith Vaystriel, the Moon-Bound Mix-Blood, was to speak before the King. And not on his behalf—but for him, the anomaly, the shadow born of human flesh, Prince Agnirasva.
The tension in the air crackled like storm-charged lightning.
His golden gaze never left the throne where King Varzeth Vaystriel sat—impassive, regal, unflinching. On the high dais, the King—Varzeth Vaystriel— had his presence austere and his gaze sharper than any blade. The three Queens were veiled in their elevated seats to the side, but their eyes watched everything, quietly judging.
Kael stepped into the court with shoulders squared, eyes cold and steady as they met the sea of stares. He walked with the defiant grace of a warrior who had nothing to prove and everything to lose.
The murmurs grew louder among the nobles and gathered citizens. A mixed-blood defending a half-blood? It was unorthodox, nearly laughable, and yet… no one dared to interrupt the boldness with which Kael now stood. Gasps rippled across the crowd.
"Is that… Kaelith? Alone?"
"Does he intend to defend that Half-Blood?"
"A werewolf representing a human-born prince? Disgraceful."
The nobles' voices were masked in polite venom, but the disdain was unmistakable. In their eyes, Kael's lineage was an anomaly—one of werewolf and vampire blood. And now he stood for someone even further from their ideals.
Kael stopped at the base of the throne, his voice steady and strong.
"My lord," Kael began, voice steady and proud, "I have come to present evidence regarding the arrest of Prince Agnirasva Vaystriel, and the girl found within his quarters."
From the high balconies, some scoffed quietly. Others leaned forward, curious. The second prince, Zephiron, reclined with a knowing smirk, watching the proceedings with a predator's patience.
"You speak with boldness, Kaelith," the king said coldly, his fingers steepled in thought. "And yet it is a boldness that often blinds judgment. What makes you think you know more than the royal guards or your elders?"
Kael's voice held firm. "Because I was there. I witnessed the mission. The northern border rebellion was real—and my brother subdued it. The girl we brought back was not a fugitive, nor an enemy. She was a messenger."
The court murmured again, louder this time.
King Varzeth leaned forward slightly. "Continue."
Kael produced the scroll she had clutched in bloodied fingers. It bore the wax seal of the Temple of Sanctity. He handed it to the royal attendant, who in turn brought it to the king.
The moment the seal broke, the room seemed to breathe as one. A long silence followed as Varzeth read its contents. His brow furrowed.
"She is a representative of the Temple of Sanctity. Her presence in Chirosa was part of a sanctioned investigation. She was ambushed at the northern borders during our mission to purge the remaining rebels. Prince Agira found her half-dead and offered sanctuary."
"You expect us to believe this on your word alone?" a noble scoffed from the crowd.
Kael's silver eyes glinted. "No. I brought proof."
He presented the sealed message retrieved from the girl's hand. As a servant took it to the throne, the king broke the seal. The moment he read the contents, his lips pressed into a thin line. A faint divine aura emanated from the paper—only authentic Temple parchment held such a blessing.
"She bears no markings of royal blood," the second queen hissed from the private viewing chamber to the side. "No noble heritage, and yet he shelters her as if she were his destined."
"She's more than blood," the first queen interjected coolly.
"This scroll bears the mark of the Inner Hall," the King said quietly. "Summon the girl."
The court was silent as the tall doors creaked open again.
A young woman stepped into the hall. She was veiled and hooded, her face mostly hidden, and yet she walked with the quiet confidence of someone not unused to commanding a room. The enchantments around her scent held strong, woven with perfumed herbs and subtle divine magic.
The court grew colder with tension. Vampires shifted in their seats. Many among them could feel her blood, powerful and untamed—yet contained with terrifying precision.
Kael lowered his gaze to hide his amusement. She's masking even her heartbeat… impressive.
She stopped at the centre of the court, her voice quiet but unwavering.
"I am a disciple of the Inner Hall of the Temple of Sanctity."
The moment the words left her mouth, murmurs erupted.
"A disciple from the Inner Hall?"
"That's impossible. They're never sent outside the Temple—"
"She carries divine scent…"
King Varzeth raised a hand. Silence returned.
"Proof," he demanded.
The girl calmly pulled back a portion of her robe, revealing the faint, glowing rune etched into her shoulder. It pulsed with a divine sigil—the mark of an Inner Disciple.
The first queen stirred behind her veil. "That mark is real. I've seen it only once—on a High Priest's student."
The second queen sneered. "A girl with that power and yet so reckless as to be caught alone? If she were truly of value, wouldn't she have been protected?"
The first queen's tone grew sharper. "She was ambushed and survived, something none of your pampered kids could do, perhaps."
"Mind your words," the second queen hissed.
"Ladies," the King interrupted. "Enough."
The girl remained quiet throughout the exchange.
"I request," she said, "that my companions be searched for and rescued. I have received confirmation through divine channels that they are alive. Their mission is… confidential. But I am here on the orders of my teacher."
The King arched a brow. "The High Priest himself?"
She bowed this time with her head lowered. "Confidential. I may only disclose it to those bound by divine oaths… or bearing Temple blood."
Kael observed the girl quietly. There was power in her restraint, grace in her deception. She had played her part perfectly. He could see why Agira had risked himself.
A long silence followed.
Then, the King rose from his throne.
"Very well. Prince Agnirasva will be released and will be responsible for the temple entourage's search and rescue operation. Make sure he rescues every member no matter where their location. But his defiance cannot go unpunished."
"Father!" Kael stepped forward. "He protected an envoy of the Temple!"
"And defied a royal order in doing so," Varzeth's tone chilled. "One hundred silver lashes. Delivered at dawn. Let the court see that loyalty does not override the law."
Gasps rippled again. Kael clenched his fists. But decided to accept it.
Kael exhaled softly.
"And you, Kaelith," the King continued coldly, "for your interference and secrecy, shall be confined without sustenance for a full month after the rescue operation is complete."
"My Lord—" the first queen began.
"Silence," the King said. "No objections."
Kael didn't flinch. "If Agira is injured after the punishment, I'll need to accompany him."
The king considered him. "Then you will be confined for one month after your return. You may go—but your punishment will follow." The King's glare burned through him. "So be it. You shall share your brother's burden."
Kael lowered his head. "I will."
In the court, tension hung like frost.
The second queen smiled coldly.
The third looked away.
But the first, as always, held her expression firm—watching not the king, but her sons.
As Kael turned to leave, the envoy looked back at the court briefly, her eyes scanning the cold faces and veiled threats.
She had seen enough to understand: that power was not what governed here. Fear did. And yet, it wasn't fear that lingered in her mind as she followed the guards out. It was Agira. The man who had shielded her fought for her and now bled because of her.
She had come seeking the truth about the Prophet.
She had not expected to find it reflected in the shadow of a silent prince.
As the court descended into murmurs once more, the girl's eyes shifted across the royal family. Some pitied Agira. Others delighted in his fall. But she, she was simply flabbergasted—not by the punishment, but by the sheer coldness in the way blood was judged.
Among the royals, loyalty was measured not by truth—but by power and fear.
And that truth struck her deeper than any whip ever could.
-To Be Continued-
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— P.S. CONSTRUCTIVE ADVICE WOULD BE APPRECIATED. REFRAIN FROM SPREADING HATE.-