Throne of Ash and Shadows

Chapter 4 Vlad Vasiliev

The king wouldn't lay a finger on me himself. No, Ometz didn't care how his guards treated me, nor did he waste time pretending otherwise. Every day, a different guard—perhaps out of boredom—would come into my cell and beat me senseless, leaving me teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. I wished they'd just let the darkness take me, but they always knew when to stop. Always careful not to let me escape into the void of unconsciousness.

"Up!" a guard barked, yanking me roughly by the arm. His grip was iron, bruising my skin as he unshackled my legs. I stumbled as they dragged me out of the cell, the weight of my battered body heavy with pain. As we moved through the dungeon, I glanced at the other cells. Strangely enough, the place was almost empty—only two other prisoners were locked away in the cold, damp shadows.

By the time we ascended the stairs to leave that grim pit, the emptiness of the dungeon gnawed at me. It felt like a tomb, a place long forgotten by the world. A door creaked open, and the harsh light of the castle's main corridors seared into my stormy gray eyes. I squinted, blinded by the sudden brightness.

"Walk!" a guard snapped as my step faltered, the sudden shift in light and space disorienting me.

The halls of the Caldorian castle stretched before me—massive, imposing, and cold. The dark blue and gold colors of the kingdom were woven into every inch of the place. Banners draped from the high ceilings, their rich fabrics bearing the sigil of Caldoria: a serpent coiled around a sword, symbolizing cunning and power, strength veiled in shadow. The walls were lined with tapestries depicting past victories, the rise of Caldoria built on blood and strategy.

Avernia's castle was nothing like this. Our colors—red and gold—were bold, filled with fire and life, our emblem a phoenix rising from flames, symbolizing rebirth, resilience, and unyielding spirit. Where Caldoria's halls felt like they were watching you, waiting for a slip, Avernia's halls felt alive, brimming with warmth. Yet, both kingdoms were driven by the same ruthless desire for dominance. Two forces forever at war, clashing over a broken world and a fractured relic.

We stopped before two massive golden doors—the king's office. One of the guards knocked sharply, announcing our arrival. The doors swung open, revealing Ometz standing within, his green eyes burning with that same cold fire I'd grown to despise. He smiled, thanking the guards for their duty, then dismissed them with a wave. As the door shut behind me, sealing us in together, Ometz turned, his gaze locking with mine.

The king stood there, dressed in another of his perfectly tailored suits, this one a deep blue, the color of his kingdom's flag. I, by contrast, looked like hell—a bloody tunic clinging to my bruised, aching body. The uniform of Avernia's Corps was now a mockery of its former self: the once-pristine white shirt stained with crimson, the fitted black pants torn at the knees, the high brown boots scuffed and caked with mud. The light brown jacket with the phoenix emblazoned on the back hung in tatters, a ghost of the pride it once represented.

He motioned for me to sit as he unshackled my wrists. I rubbed them gingerly, feeling the dull throb of pain where the iron cuffs had bitten into my skin. For the first time in what felt like ages, I could sense the full force of my dual power—fire and water—coursing through me. The absence of the silencer made it clear that Ometz wasn't afraid. Not here, not now.

"I trust my men have been treating you well," he said without looking up from the papers on his desk, his tone casual, almost bored.

A bitter laugh escaped my throat, the tips of my fingers sparking with restrained anger. "Treating me well? That's an overstatement, Your Highness." I glanced at my reflection in the nearby mirror and barely recognized the man staring back. My lips were split, blood crusted along my jaw. One eye was swollen nearly shut, dark purple bruises blooming across my face. I looked like I had been dragged through hell—and I had.