A Blood Soaked Throne - Part Two

Seventeen - Damien

The castle looks different. None of the guards that usually block the front entrance are present, all of them no doubt searching for Alayah and I. The city behind me is unsettlingly quiet, none of the usual nightlife noises that usually fill the air are present. My father's anger must have driven them all into hiding to avoid his wrath.

The middle district was overflowing with creatures from the lower district. The gate that I melted beyond recognition is still unfixed. My father's order has been disturbed, his control threatened. I can only imagine how furious he must be. I step through the metal gates, not a single sound or movement as I make my way up to the castle's large double doors.

The sight inside shocks me almost as much as the silence outside. The entire entryway has been destroyed. Tables have been knocked over, their frames broken and splintered. Vases with dried flowers lie shattered across the marble floor. The large curtains that once shielded every window from the light outside have been ripped from the hanging rods, the fabric dirty and crumbled on the ground. At the end of the room sits my father's throne, and as expected it's not empty.

My chest tightens when I see him. The shadows cover the majority of his frame but I can tell that something has changed in him. He stands, notably missing the two guards that are usually present at his sides. As he moves closer the changes become more obvious. He's wearing his familiar black slacks with a red button up shirt - no, it's white. Blood dyes the fabric so thoroughly that only bits of the white remain. The dark veins that course through his skin have expanded. They no longer snake just along his torso and neck but throughout his face, and the black coloring of his irises has started bleeding into the whites of his eyes. His clothes are torn, nowhere near the pristine condition I've always known my father to be in. He looks tired, dried blood smeared across his hands and forearms. And the God Killing blade is strapped to his side. The sight is terrifying. I've never seen my father look more out of control than he does right now.

"I see you decided to sacrifice yourself for the girl, again." His voice is rough, a low growl hanging at the end of his words. He moves closer to me, his muscles tensing in anger with each step he takes. "That won't work this time. I will find her, and when I do no one will be able to save her from me."

The same anger that courses through him begins to rise in me, the pale red light blossoming in the palm of my hand. This is what I came here for. I can't let him get to me with baiting words. I take a few steps closer, allowing the energy to grow within me.

"I'm here to challenge you. I can't let you continue to rule like this, and I will not let you have her again." I try to keep my voice steady, but there's no way he misses the uncertainty strangling my words.

He lets out a laugh, a throaty and rough laugh at the declaration. It's enough to fuel the fire that's igniting the power rising in my body.

"Then your death will be meaningless. I have no intention of giving up my throne, and you're not strong enough to take it from me." At this point he's just a few inches from me, his frame towering above mine. The rage that I've been building up from the moment he first put his hands on her explodes in an instant, and before I can process what I'm doing my fist has connected with his face.

He stumbles backwards and with a smile spits blood onto the floor. I don't even see him move before a splintering pain radiates from my own cheek and the taste of iron fills my mouth. A low growl rumbles from my throat as I swing my arm back up to connect with his chin and his head falls back for just a moment before he recovers.

Just like that the fight for my life has begun. The two of us exchange blows. The power that I've tried so hard to control is slowly building up, and this time I have to let it all out. My side screams in pain as his fist drives into it and I hear a crack. I barely manage to block the one that's aimed at my face. I jerk away from him, watching as he wipes the blood from his lip and the power induced glow begins to burn brightly in his palm.

He lunges towards me, and I feel the heat before I see the fire. It spreads quickly over my chest, stealing all of the air from my lungs. I clutch the seared flesh and gasp for breath. He wastes no opportunity before taking his next attack and in an instant I'm on the ground.

He stands over me as I fight to pull oxygen into my lungs. I've hurt him. I can see that in the swelling on his cheek, the blood splattered across his face, the way he walks just a bit slower than normal. It's not enough. I haven't used even a fraction of my newfound power. I can't allow myself to give up yet.

"Get up, I refuse to allow my son to be a weak embarrassment in his final moments." He squats down next to me, flames dancing across his fingertips.

I force myself onto my side, opening up my lungs for the air to finally slip inside. I pool power in my hand as I struggle to stand. My chest burns, and my breathing is raspy, but I have to keep going. He lets out another laugh, looking down at the faint light in my palm.

"Come on Damien. Show me these new powers I've heard so much about." He circles around me, his eyes following the oath of pulsing veins snaking up my arms. "I want to tell our dear pet just how hard you fought while I remind her who she belongs to. Just how loudly you begged for death before your benevolent father gave it to you."

The rage overtakes me at the mention of Alayah. His demeaning nickname paired with the promise of what he'll do to her if I lose sends me spiraling out of control. I push forward, ignoring the crippling pain in my chest and tackle him to the ground. He holds his arms up to defend from my incoming attack but ashes fall to the ground by his face as whatever destructive power I hold eats away at his flesh.

For a moment his scream feels false. A sound so rare that hearing it feels like I'm in a dream, but it's real. His eyes widen as he jerks back his arms, parts of the flesh and muscle disintegrated. I have to remind myself again. I can do this. I push my palm into the side of his face, the smell of charring skin invading my nostrils as he cries out.

Ringing echoes in my ears as he flails aimlessly to stop the agony. I fall to the ground, trying to force the black spots from my vision. My head pounds from the ringing and my focus wavers, but I turn to see him pushing desperately along the ground as he covers the wounded part of his face with his hand. I can't let up. I have to keep going.

I push myself back up off the ground and see the flicker of flames as they come to life in my hands. For the first time in my life he looks scared. His hand falls away from his face and I see the damage I've caused. The person I was would be disgusted, sick from the sight and riddled with guilt. The person I am now, the person he's turned me into, craves the anguished cries that rumble from his throat.

I don't want to end this yet. I want him to hurt the way he's made me hurt. I can feel the darkness taking over, and for once I want to let it.