The underground chamber of the castle was shrouded in shadows, save for the flickering firelight that cast haunting reflections on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of blood and damp stone. Lucian, the king, stood at the forefront of a circle of guards, his cold, piercing gaze locked on the figure before him. His brothers, Elias and Soren, flanked him, their expressions as unreadable as his own. The flickering flames reflected off their faces, painting them in an ethereal glow.
Before them, a woman hung in chains, her body battered and bloodied. Her arms were bound to the stone wall, her skin raw from the torture she had endured. She was broken—physically. Yet, her eyes burned with a fierce defiance, unwavering despite the pain.
Lucian stepped forward, his voice a low growl, filled with the weight of centuries of command. "Where is she?"
The woman lifted her head slowly, her lips curling into a bloodied smile, unfazed by the threat before her. "You'll never be able to find her. You will face your doom."
A flicker of anger crossed Lucian's face, but it was enough to ignite a storm. In a flash, he was upon her, his hand wrapping around her neck with inhuman speed. She gasped for air, her attempts to speak faltering as his grip tightened.
Lucian lazily tilted his head to the side "Then you, Dana… are useless to me."
Without a second thought, Lucian's grip tightened further. His eyes glinted with cruel satisfaction as he tore the woman's heart from her chest in a single motion. The thud of her lifeless body hitting the floor echoed through the chamber, and her heart dropped beside her like a forgotten relic.
A faint, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of Lucian's lips as he straightened, his eyes never leaving the lifeless form at his feet. His brothers Elias and Soren stood by, unbothered, their faces betraying no emotion. To them, this was simply another day, another death. It was their life—cold, unfeeling, and ruthless.