Cursebound Hearts

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She is known as Shadowblade, a name whispered with fear and awe in the dark corners of the kingdom of Draconovia. A master of her craft, she moves through the shadows with the silence and precision of one's very own shadow. Trained from a young age in the deadly arts, her existence was a well-guarded secret, concealed in the obscurity of the kingdom's underground.

Tonight, she had a single purpose that had been etched into her heart and mind: Kill him. Kill King Aurelius.

In the shadow of the night, she emerged from the depths of the kingdom, clad in a suit of obsidian black. Her attire was as dark as the secrets that haunted the palace she sought to infiltrate, designed to blend seamlessly with the inky shroud of night. Her raven-black hair was hidden beneath a hood, an enigmatic veil concealing her identity, allowing her to become one with the night.

With the grace and agility of a shadow, she scaled the towering walls of King Aurelius's palace. Her fingers deftly found purchase in the cracks and crevices, allowing her to ascend without a single sound or misstep. Her training had been rigorous, honing her skills to perfection. She was the embodiment of stealth, a phantom moving with a purpose that transcended the mortal realm.

As she ascended the palace walls, her heart pounded with the weight of her mission. The kingdom's fate rested on her shoulders, and the destiny of King Aurelius, the cursed ruler, hung in the balance.

As Shadowblade reached the pinnacle of the palace walls, she found herself perched near the watchtower, an ancient stone structure that had witnessed countless nights of vigilance. The tower was adorned with torches that cast flickering, uneven light across the surrounding courtyard. Below her, a thicket of small, twisted bushes concealed her presence, their sparse leaves providing a frail shield against prying eyes.

Huddled beneath the thin veil of the foliage, she listened intently, her sharp eyes scanning the immediate area. Her instincts honed over years of training were now her only allies.

Footsteps approached, reverberating with a heavy, purposeful rhythm. The guards patrolling the watchtower were on the move, vigilant in their duties, but oblivious to the presence of the shadow that watched from the darkness.

One guard handed over his post to another, their voices muffled by the distance, but their words carried to her ears on the night's stillness.

"Keep an eye on the palace, Durak. We can't afford any breaches tonight," the first guard advised in a low, cautious tone.

Durak, the newly assigned watchman, nodded solemnly.
"Don't worry, Vaelen. I've got this. No one's getting past me."

Shadowblade, hidden beneath the bush, knew she had but a brief window of opportunity. As she watched Vaelen assume his post at the watchtower, she knew the other guard's departing footsteps were her cue. Once they faded into the night, she would have a momentary advantage to make her next move.

In the shadows, she remained perfectly still, every fiber of her being focused on the task ahead.

With the precision of a stalking predator, Shadowblade emerged from the bushes and silently positioned herself within the watchtower, her form almost indistinguishable from the very shadows that shrouded her. Behind Durak, the unsuspecting watchman, she stood, her presence as elusive as the night itself.

In the flickering torchlight, Durak turned slightly, sensing a presence but failing to identify the source. His hand instinctively clutched the hilt of his sword. The tension in the air was palpable.

A taunting whisper reached Durak's ears, a voice that seemed to emanate from the depths of the darkness. "Durak," she hissed, a sinister smile playing on her lips.
"You've always been a bit slow on the uptake, haven't you?"

Startled, Durak's reaction was swift. With a swift, practiced motion, he drew his sword and pivoted to face the source of the voice. His eyes widened in alarm as he saw the dark figure who had emerged from the depths of the night.

Shadowblade, her legs coiled like springs, launched herself at him. The spiteful comment that followed was like a venomous sting,
"Your sword won't save you, Durak."

Durak, in his panicked attempt to fend her off, was no match for her agility and skill. With a deft twist of her body, she sent his sword clattering to the stone floor. It was clear he was not the efficient fighter he'd hoped to be.

There was no time to waste. Winona knew the dire stakes of her mission. With a quick, deadly motion, she extended her hand, revealing a clawed ring that glittered ominously in the torchlight. In a single, precise stroke, she slit Durak's throat, silencing his cries and extinguishing the light of his life.

As the lifeblood drained from Durak's body, Winona stood amidst the watchtower, her mission progressing, and her resolve as unyielding as the shadows that embraced her.

With Durak's lifeless form left behind in the watchtower, Shadowblade descended the stone steps with the same fluid grace that had carried her up to her target. The watchtower had been the only passage into the palace that allowed her to bypass the guards without raising alarm, a method that played to her ability to effortlessly blend into the shadows.

The dimly lit hallway of the palace greeted her as she emerged from the watchtower's passage. Her raven-black attire, hidden beneath the shadows' embrace, was her greatest ally in maintaining her invisibility.

As she stood at the threshold of the grand hallway, her senses were immediately assaulted by a sinister odor. It was the unmistakable stench of the palace's cellar, where prisoners languished in darkness and misery. The smell was a grotesque blend of rotten flesh, dampness, and the haunting scent of despair.

She grimaced, repulsed by the repugnant atmosphere that clung to the very walls of the palace. The cellar's presence beneath her was a grim reminder of the kingdom's darkest secrets, a place where the forgotten and forsaken found no solace.

But there was no time for contemplation. Winona knew that her mission was not to free those imprisoned within the bowels of the palace but to kill Aurelius.