The throne of dominance

Chapter 7: The Blood-Red Dawn

The night was still, the faint sounds of a recovering city just barely audible through the thick walls of the inn. In their shared room, Jean, Yuri, Zane, and Jonas lay sprawled on their respective beds, their bodies heavy with exhaustion. The moonlight filtered through the cracks in the shutters, casting pale streaks across the wooden floor. The air was cool, a quiet respite after the chaos of the siege, but Jonas's sleep was far from peaceful.

In his dream, the world was alive with laughter and warmth. He was younger, maybe seven or eight years old, sitting at a table in a small, cozy dining room. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the air, mingling with the aroma of spiced stew bubbling in a pot over the hearth. His mother, her hands dusted with flour, was shaping dough with a practiced ease, a soft smile on her face as she glanced at him. His father sat at the head of the table, his deep voice booming with laughter as he teased Jonas about some trivial thing—a mess he had made, or a mischievous look he had given his sister. His sister, no older than five, sat beside him, her giggles filling the air as she poked at Jonas's side.

The light in the room was golden, warm, wrapping them in a blanket of comfort and safety. It was the kind of moment Jonas had once taken for granted, a fragment of a life so distant now that it felt like a story someone else had told him.

But the warmth began to dim. The light flickered, shadows creeping into the corners of the room. The laughter died, replaced by the sound of heavy boots on cobblestones outside. The air grew cold, the once-inviting scents replaced by the acrid smell of smoke.

Jonas stood, his small frame trembling as he turned toward the window. The sky outside was alight with flames, the dark banners of the Edwards family waving like specters in the night. Figures moved in the streets—armored soldiers, their faces obscured by helmets, their hands raised as magic crackled between their fingers.

"Jonas, get back!" his father's voice was sharp, urgent, breaking through his trance. His mother grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the window as the door to their home burst inward with a deafening crash.

The Edwards soldiers flooded in, their dark magic filling the room with a suffocating presence. One of them, a man with cold eyes and a cruel smile, stepped forward, his hand raised. Dark tendrils of energy erupted from his palm, lashing out like living shadows. Jonas's father stepped in front of them, his own magic—bright, golden light—flaring to life in an instant. The two forces collided, the room shaking with the impact, but it was clear his father was outmatched.

"Run!" his father shouted, his voice filled with desperation. "Take Jonas and your sister and run!"

His mother grabbed his sister, her face pale but resolute, her eyes glancing back at Jonas as if urging him to follow. But he couldn't move. His legs were frozen, his eyes locked on his father as the tendrils of dark magic wrapped around him, tightening, squeezing, pulling the light from his body until he collapsed to the floor.

"Dad!" Jonas's scream tore from his throat, but his mother pulled him back, her hands shaking as she pushed him toward the back door. "Go, Jonas, please!"

But it was too late. The soldiers were everywhere, their magic filling the room, turning everything to ash and shadow. His mother tried to shield him, her own magic flickering to life—a soft, silvery glow—but it was no match for the force that struck her, sending her crumpling to the floor beside his father.

The last thing Jonas saw before the darkness consumed him was his sister's terrified face, her small hand reaching for him as the soldiers dragged her away, her cries echoing in his ears as the world around him dissolved into blackness.

Jonas woke with a start, his chest heaving, his body drenched in sweat. The room was dark, the soft sound of Yuri's snoring breaking the stillness, but Jonas felt as though the weight of the entire world was pressing on his chest. He sat up, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair, trying to steady his breathing.