A Slip Of Darkness

Chapter I

A bloodcurdling scream had torn through the silence of the night. It was long after sunset, the moon already shining at its zenith, and I was burrowed far into the depths of the palace library. A book was nestled in my lap and my head was bowed as I absorbed the words on the page, with the faint sound of crickets chirping in the background.

When I first heard it, my head snapped up and I jumped to my feet, book tumbling to the ground. I ran towards the source of the noise, the sound of my feet hitting the marble floors of the winding palace hallways echoing against the walls. The screaming had stopped, but I already had an idea of where it was coming from, and the thought of it made my stomach jump to my throat.

I made my way towards the bed chambers, a long hallway lined with doors that each led to the bedroom of my siblings. I skidded to a stop before the door to Genevive's chambers, my heart pounding. In hindsight, it would've been smarter to wake up my father, the king, but adrenaline and fear had clouded my judgement, and instead I threw open the door.

Before me was a man dressed in all black, leaning over my eldest sister's body with a gleaming knife that dripped with white blood. I stood frozen with fear. The only thing I could look at was Genevive's body, and the blooming white stain that tainted her clothes. Her dark blue eyes that were once filled with mystery and wisdom were now glassy and lifeless. I could tell already that she was gone, past the point of no return. Her blue lips were slightly parted, as if ready to scream again.

The man started to move towards the window, which stood ajar. I did the only thing I could to prevent him from leaving: I screamed. The man turned around, startled. In the moonlight, I could see him better. He had dark eyes and black hair, closely cropped to his head. A Xeorian. His nose curved over like a hawks and his lips curled into a sneer. He pulled his arm back, ready to throw the knife at me and ensure his safe escape, but he was cut short when a knife hurtled from behind me and pierced him right in the chest. He fell back with a grunt, and black blood started to bloom around the hilt of the knife. I whirled around to find the owner of the knife that was now lodged into the chest of Genevive's murderer. My eldest brother stood there, dressed in his night clothes, but there was not a trace of sleep in his eyes. Caspian quickly ran his gaze over me to make sure I was not hurt, and ran towards Genevive's body.

Two fingers to Genevive's wrist told Caspian what I already knew. Genevive was gone. 27 years down the drain in a single blink of an eye. Caspian straightened and looked at me. His face was pale but emotionless, his eyes void of any feelings.

"Etharen. Go get Father." he demanded urgently.

I started to turn and leave the room when clamouring and voices were heard. My father, Sapphira, and Falkor burst into the room, still in their nightclothes and their faces filled with worry and confusion.

I watched as realization dawned on them, as they took in Genevive's body, the dark haired man slumped in the corner, and Caspian's dagger lodged in his chest. Sapphira understood first, her delicate hands flying to her mouth and a little shriek escaping. She immediately ran towards Genevive, crouching next to her body. I watched as tears streamed down her face and her body shook with sobs. Although Sapphira was two years older than me, her heart was much softer. She stroked Genevive's white hair out of her face and slid two trembling fingers over her eyelids, letting them close gently.