Chapter 8: Blood Behind the Gates
The Phillipe Palace was shrouded in a thin mist as Xebec, Astrid, and Aelra returned through the main gates. There was no formal welcome. No drums. Only the curious stares of the guards, and the tense faces of servants running quickly toward the main hall.
"Something's happened," Aelra murmured, lowering her hood. "I can smell blood from afar."
Xebec quickened his pace, Astrid following behind, her expression growing more rigid. They reached the marble corridor leading to the council chamber, only to be stopped by one of the captain guards.
"Your Majesty," he stammered, "Grand Advisor Vael was found… dead. His body torn apart, as if burned from the inside. There are no signs of conventional magic."
Xebec stared forward, then turned to Astrid. "Baal," he whispered.
But Astrid shook her head. "No. This… isn't Baal. This was done by humans. But with forbidden power."
Without a word, Xebec entered the council hall.
Vael's body lay on a stone table. The wounds… were not ordinary. His flesh was charred from within, as if his body had ignited from the heart outward. The old man's eyes were frozen in terror.
"No one could enter this place unnoticed…" one noble murmured.
"This… is a message," Xebec said softly. "A message that the war has begun even before its declaration."
Bastian, who had arrived earlier, stood at the corner of the room. His face calm—but for a brief moment, Xebec caught a strange glint in his eyes before it vanished behind his composed mask.
Xebec stepped forward. "From this day on, no more betrayals will be hidden."
Suddenly, a burst of magic exploded from the eastern window. A hooded figure crashed through the shattered glass, lunging straight at Astrid with a blade of black energy.
It all happened fast. But Xebec was faster.
With a single breath, he drew his sword—a one-handed blade tailored to his unique fighting style. Silver energy enveloped his body, his movement blurring like a shadow merging with light.
ZRAK!
A single slash. The attacker was hurled back, their cloak torn, and black blood sprayed from their chest.
Xebec's sword halted just inches from Astrid's neck. He turned to the noblewoman. "Are you alright?"
Astrid could only nod softly, her gaze fixed on Xebec—the look in his eyes combining the coldness of war and the warmth of protection.
The other nobles stepped back, some trembling.
One of them whispered, "He's reached Swordmaster…"
But Xebec merely sheathed his blade.
"Not yet. But soon."
As the guards dragged the still-living attacker to the dungeon, Xebec glanced at Bastian. This time, he didn't hide his suspicion.
And Bastian… smiled. Lightly. Cryptically.
With a chilling silence, the nobles began to disperse, one by one leaving the blood-scented and ash-filled chamber. Yet Xebec remained, gazing at the shattered window, the night wind brushing his sweat-soaked hair from the brief skirmish.
Astrid approached, her voice low but clear, "You saved me."
Xebec turned, then gave a small smile. "Of course. You're my future bride… and my ally."
Astrid raised an eyebrow, hiding the blush creeping up her cheeks. "Oh? I thought you hadn't decided yet."
"Not politically," Xebec replied. "But on the battlefield… I know who I can trust."
Before Astrid could respond, hurried footsteps echoed. Aelra arrived, holding a cloth bundle taken from the attacker's body.
"Your Majesty," she said, handing it over, "this was found on the attacker's left arm. A seal tattoo. The same as Bastian's."
Xebec's eyes narrowed. He opened the bundle. There it was—the faintly burned sigil of a demon on the flesh, a symbol he had seen before—the mark of Baal.
But this was not just a warning. This was a declaration of war.
He looked at Astrid, then Aelra. "Starting tonight, we form a shadow unit. I want every piece of information on nobles who have dabbled in forbidden magic. No one is to be spared."
Aelra nodded. "I'll see to it at once."
Astrid added firmly, "I can infiltrate the secret meetings of Father's loyalists. Some still believe I'm on the family's side."
"Dangerous," Xebec muttered.
"I'm de Malefic," she said, eyes steady. "I was raised to play among poison and blades."
Xebec looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. "Fine. But don't go alone."
He turned to the shattered window, the night sky growing darker.
"This war… it's not just between me and my brother. It's between those who wish to chain the future to a cursed past—and those who want to break its shackles."
And that night, behind the silent veil of the palace, history began to write its next chapter.
Not in ink, but in blood and fire.
---
Once the hall was cleaned and the attacker's corpse secured, Xebec walked down a dim corridor toward his private chamber. Shadows from flickering lanterns followed his steps, but his mind was restless. The gaze Bastian gave him in his nightmares felt more real than ever.
As his chamber door closed, Aelra stepped from the shadows. She bowed quickly and handed him a blood-marked piece of parchment.
"This message was found in the assassin's boot," she said. "Written in ancient royal cipher. We've deciphered most of it."
Xebec read quickly, his eyes narrowing.
"The key to Baal's legacy has awakened. The Light must be extinguished before the 'Third Gate' opens. Start with the woman."
His face tensed. "Astrid…"
Aelra nodded. "They don't just want to stop you, Your Majesty. They want to destroy everything that makes you vulnerable… or human."
Xebec clenched the paper until it tore. A small flame lit from his palm, reducing the note to ash.
"I'll face them," he said. "Not just as heir to the throne… but as a Swordmaster."
He strode to his personal armory and took up a black sword—his father's final gift, untouched by the curse. Strapping it to his back, he looked into the mirror.
One arm. Old scars. But a will that now burned brighter than ever.
In the distance, the night bells tolled… followed by alarm cries from the outer guard post.
Aelra readied herself. "Another attack?"
But Xebec's voice was cold:
"No. That's a message."
He stepped out into the night and mist. Moonlight lit his face—scarred, but resolute.
And atop the palace's highest tower, a cloaked figure stood—glowing red eyes. Bastian.
"You've chosen war, brother…"
---
The night air felt heavy as Xebec stood on the stone balcony, staring at a sky covered in rolling gray clouds. The scent of blood still clung to his garments. A murder in the heart of the palace wasn't just a physical attack—it was a declaration. A sign that the war had already begun in secret.
Soft footsteps approached from behind. He didn't need to turn.
"I knew you'd come, Astrid."
She stopped beside him. Her face pale, silver hair fluttering in the wind. But her eyes were sharp, as if slicing through the darkness.
"I saw the same symbol on the assassin's chest," she said quietly. "The mark from my mother's curse texts. Those who bear it… are no longer human."
Xebec didn't answer. Just stared forward.
"I don't think this is about the throne or ambition anymore," Astrid continued. "This is something far older… and far more dangerous than anyone imagined."
"You know something you haven't told me," Xebec said, voice cold but not accusing.
Astrid lowered her gaze. "There's a secret text passed down the de Malefic women. It's called the Third Order. They believe Baal will return, not as a demon king, but as a god of the new world. And only the dark seal in his descendant's blood can open the gates."
Xebec turned to her, eyes intense. "And Bastian…?"
"The seal is in him. But… there's something else." She hesitated. "Maybe… only you can balance that power. Or destroy it."
Xebec sighed, gazing up at the sky again. "If that's my fate… then I'll carry it. But I won't let anyone take shortcuts by sacrificing innocent lives."
Suddenly, a trumpet blast pierced the night—two short notes, one long. The danger signal from the eastern tower.
Aelra appeared, breathless. "Someone's at the main gate. They didn't breach the defenses. But they left this."
She handed him a black scroll sealed in blood-red wax with a winged demon insignia.
Xebec opened it carefully. Inside, a single sentence written in ancient script:
"The First Gate has opened. We are merely waiting for the Light to extinguish itself."
Xebec's fist clenched. He felt the energy of the sword within him react—like something had been awakened by the threat. His breath heavy, but his gaze unshaken.
Astrid silently watched him, then gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't let them make you doubt who you are."
Xebec turned. "And you… don't turn away from the path you've chosen. I know your mask hides wounds. But… it's not your wounds that make you weak."
Astrid gave a soft smile. But this time, it was warm, not defensive.
"You're too poetic for someone missing an arm," she teased softly.
Xebec chuckled. "And you're too calm for a woman raised in a curse."
Their brief laughter broke the night's tension, like two small lights still glowing amid the ruin.
But far above, atop the palace tower, a cloaked figure watched them through scouting magic. His red eyes glowed—Bastian's.
He stood still, the seal on his chest pulsing slowly like a second heart.
"You're beginning to love her, brother… But love will be your weakness when the final gate opens."
Then he vanished into the shadows—and the night felt colder than ever. The sky above still churned, as if warning that the world's balance had begun to shift. Below, the palace stirred in quiet chaos—guards doubled, servants silenced, and rumors of noble blood spilled in the halls spread in hushed, fearful whispers.
Xebec stared at the now-empty banquet hall, only bloodstains on the stone floor and the faint scent of death remained. The body was gone, but the demon's presence lingered.
Aelra stood beside the door, her face grim.
"The killer wasn't human," she murmured. "That power… fast, silent, and the body didn't react to holy steel or magic."
"Because it was already dead," Xebec replied flatly. "A puppet. A borrowed soul. Probably part of a ritual."
Astrid emerged from behind velvet curtains near the balcony, her silver hair cascading in the night fog.
"I found this," she said, holding out a shard of obsidian pendant etched with a downward-pointing triangle fused with two circles.
Xebec narrowed his eyes. "That symbol…"
"The gate symbol. Those who pave the way for Baal," Astrid whispered. "This isn't just political terror. This is the start of a spiritual war. They're testing our limits."
Suddenly, a small magical explosion echoed outside the palace. Horse screams. Fire blazed in the distance.
"Eastern gate!" Aelra shouted.
Xebec leapt from the balcony steps without waiting for a report. He unsheathed his sword—now transformed into a gleaming blade of light. Swordmaster aura surrounded him, the ground cracking beneath his feet as he moved.
At the eastern gate, three hooded figures had taken down two guards. They were about to breach the inner hall when Xebec's voice roared:
"How dare you defile this palace with Baal's power!"
One of them raised his hand. "We're not defiling, Prince. We are bearing truth. And truth shall consume the world…"
Before he could finish, Xebec appeared in a flash. With a single slash, the figure was cleaved in two, their shadow dissolving into dust burned by a light.
The other two tried to retreat, but Xebec swung his sword horizontally, and from its blade burst a wave of energy that tore through the air—splitting the ground, shattering walls, and incinerating them in a white explosion.
Aelra arrived just as the battle ended. "You didn't leave any for me."
"Next time, get here faster," Xebec replied with a sigh.
From a distance, Astrid watched. In her eyes, Xebec was no longer just a wounded and maimed prince. He was a light cutting through the dark—scarred, fierce, but still choosing to stand. And somewhere along the way, her heart had begun to feel something more than admiration.
As Xebec walked back toward them, he wiped the sweat from his brow and approached Astrid. "Are you alright?"
Astrid replied, "Yes. But I'm more worried about who sent them."
Xebec looked up at the sky. "Bastian… or something worse than him."
A pause. The night wind stirred.
Astrid looked at him gently. "You know, you could've died back there. But you still stepped forward."
Xebec let out a small laugh. "If I'm going to die, I'd rather die with style."
Astrid raised an eyebrow, surprised that he could joke after killing three cursed creatures.
"So that's it. A swordmaster and a court jester."
"But a jester who saved your life."
Astrid gave a faint smile. "Don't make me laugh. I might almost like you."
Xebec returned her smile. "Don't almost."
In the distance, the northern tower chimed three times. A sign that midnight had come.
And that night, for the first time, Xebec realized that love and war… could bloom from the same battlefield.
---
(To be continued)