The Queen's Prophecy || ON HOLD ||

S e v e n | The Defected Piece That I Am

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THANATOS WAS A BLOODIED MESS; his white shirt stained a dark crimson, his long tresses of hair haggard and sticky. There's a wild stony look looming his features, the muscles of his arms flexing as he weilded a sword.

He was sparring alone in the training chamber—one of the four adjoining chambers attached to his room. Weapons of different kinds decorated the beige painted walls—longswords and daggers, bows and arrows, riffles and guns and every lethal object known to mankind.

It had all happened in a flurry of moments; me grabbing Joshua and Emerick's hands, Josh grabbing Esme's before I winnowed us all back to the shadow castle. Proceeded by me storming upstairs to look for the shadow king, leaving the three gaping behind, still reeling from the aftereffects of the merciless winnowing.

It had barely taken me any further difuse of power to throw open Thanatos' room's unlocked door and rage in to find the place empty and shrouded by darkness again before I discovered the king sparring in here.

Thanatos swings, the blade of his longsword cutting through thin air, the stitched neck wound hidden beneath the high collar of his shirt.

However he senses my presence, those duel coloured eyes don't flicker my way when he speaks,

"What do you need?" There's a coldness to his voice I'd never heard before, a deathly stillness as if he weren't entirely here.

My anger inflates, eyes narrows into furious slits. I cross my arms, "You tell me. Is there something you hid, perhaps?" The bite in my tongue matches his.

Thanatos doesn't bat a breath. Swinging again, "There's a great deal of things I do not speak of. Maybe you should start with what you want to know?"

He was not in the mood. So wasn't I.

I fight and fight against the fluctuating urge to unleash upon him, burn him just as I'd burnt the mystic.

There was a time when I'd considered for a fleeting moment that Thanatos himself was the master manipulator. That this was all a ploy for a bigger game he planned.

I was no fool to trust him still, yet. . .yet I needed to know his part of reasoning.

Flexing my fingers to tone down the destruction inside me, I lean against the doorframe, "Dyrk is your younger brother." I state, not a question but a statement demanding answers.

Thanatos' fingers clench around his sword's hilt, "He is." He retorts in a clipped tone, still swinging, still not meeting my eyes.

"And you thought it good not to mention that to me? Maybe you even know of the prophecy and sent me to the mystic just for the fun of it?" I cross my arms over my chest, keen gaze observing every single of his expression.

There wasn't any at the moment, so at odds with the smiling, obnoxious, overly bright look he had on him in the brief time I'd known the shadow king.

Something is not right.

"I may not tell everything, but I'm not a liar, chosen one." His teeth flashes, the knuckles of his hands whitening.

"Why hide it?" I don't take my eyes of off him.

"Because I'm a miserable being who thought it would make no difference whether I mentioned it or not." His words are a snide remark.

Thanatos changes his stance—one foot ahead, one back, sword raised high as if preparing to strike a meaningless hard blow through the wooden plank erected in front of him.