The Chronicles of Onyx Book Two - Fight of a Hero

Chapter fifteen

Snow crunched beneath Sith's footfalls as he marched through the frozen forest; the cold air bit at his skin, but he ignored the chill. Keeping his mind focused on the promise of kingdomship, that was if he did as Raven asked first.

His single-golden tusk glinted in the stray rays of sun that filter through the thick canopy of leaves that hung above him. Even the obsidian sword that now hung at his side, caught the light. The dark blade glistened like the majestic scales of a dragon. Strong and powerful with deadly intent.

He moved with a new purpose; each step taken with such clarity. Somehow the fog had been lifted in his mind. No longer he was blind but instead, he had the clearest vision of what he was after. Of whom.

Even as his previous memories were withheld from him, It was as though Raven had painted a mural in his mind. Leading him to fulfill her dark desire, to which he felt tranquil to carry out.

Strangely a sense of hope, perhaps even gratitude, charged within him. The motive of his past seemed distant, replaced by the intoxicating new promise of power and purpose.

Sith's thoughts wandered to Raven and the moment she had saved him. The memory of her voice, commanding and yet filled with an unspoken sadness, echoed in his mind. She had given him a second chance, a chance to rise above his former self, to claim the throne he had longed for.

But beneath that hope, an unseen darkness lingered—an evil shadow Raven had woven into his soul. Her gift was not without its own price, though Sith was blissfully unaware. The very sword he carried, imbued with her dark magic, bound him to her will. Raven's touch had not only healed him; it had also cursed him.

Her desires were now his own, and even as the mural in his mind was so vivid and clear, it was but a fragment of the reality she had twisted to meet her own needs.