2.| The Prophecy Cut Scene

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 cut scene. . .

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Blood rained from the skies, pelting against the carriage, leaving rivulets of red streaming down the glass window where Isis peered out. She ran her hand through her long ivory hair and smiled at the iron scent of the crimson rain. 

She would have said she hated to be the bearer of bad news, but Isis couldn't wait to see King Zyres' reaction once she delivered it.

Not news, but a rumor that had spread like wildfire through the Vatican Free Cities. The church had no part in it, but the people of the Free Cities did. 

The northerners had told the easterners, and the easterners had told the westerners, until eventually Isis had extracted the information from a poor, unfortunate and tortured soul.

A boy had been born, on the sixth day when the Blood Moon was at its peak. 

Just like now.

Thunder roared and the carriage stopped in front of an ivory palace, now temporarily stained from the bloody downpour. The palace was a massive structure with tall spires. 

The coachmen opened the door for her, and she stepped out and headed to the palace entrance. 

Isis felt the eyes of the hooded figures that lined the path, watching her every move. They were the Keepers of Silence, the elite guards of the royal family. They wore black cloaks that concealed their faces and bodies, and carried swords and daggers that were imbued with Daemonic magic. 

They were the most powerful and loyal warriors among the high classed Daemons, selected from the Six Great High Covens that ruled over the different regions of the Daemonic cities. They had sworn an oath of silence, and never spoke a word to anyone, except the king and his kin.

And when they did speak, it was with actions and not words, because their oath came with giving up their tongues. 

From outside, she could smell the despair that came from within the palace. It was the way King Zyres preferred his atmosphere.

Iris followed the sound of laughter that broke the palace's silence. In the great hall, half-naked women performed a mesmerizing dance.

Their smiles were fake, barely hiding their terror as they bent backwards and lifted their beaded legs into the air to the rhythm of the music, offering a glimpse of what feminine secrets lay under their fine silk.

They were indeed terrified of him—of Daemons in general. As they should be.

He was king over the great Daemon cities and the Six High Covens, but Humans knew him by many names: King Zyres, The Flayer, and Deathbringer.

During the years of being his queen, Isis had gotten used to his obsession with torturing humans—especially young and beautiful women. They could laugh, spin, and act like they loved him all they wanted, but they would be dead by dawn.

All Daemons were true to their inner beasts.

On a throne made of human bones, sat King Zyres, his long raven hair framing his ember slitted eyes. He was too busy staring at the servant girl from the southern Ishnil Isles to notice Isis' presence. 

"Stay still, little human, one move and I could crush your entire skull. It's easy, like breathing." King Zyres warned her.

Isis heard the girl swallow from where she stood across the room, her heart beating the way a prey's would when caught in the predator's grasp.

The servant girl then looked at Isis pleadingly, and finally King Zyres followed her gaze, realizing Isis was there.

"Isis," he crooned, his voice a velvety tone. "You grace us with your presence," his eyes lingered on the girl, but Isis caught the spark of curiosity in his molten depths.

"They say a boy was born," she answered, her voice a low, seductive purr.

King Zyres laughed lowly as he kissed the servant's neck. She shut her eyes tightly. "And? Boys are born all the time."

Isis rolled her eyes. "He has the mark."

Zyres stiffened, his grip clenching around the terrified servant girl's neck. "You lie. That cannot be."

Isis' gaze did not waver, letting him see the truth in her eyes. "What? Are you afraid?"

Zyres growled and flung the servant girl aside. She crashed into the wall with a thud and slumped to the floor, either lifeless or unconscious, Isis didn't know. 

He rose from his throne, and glowered at Isis. "Do not toy with me, Isis."

She did not blink, a smirk curling her lips. "I speak no lies. He bears the beast's mark on the back of his hand. A skull with a serpent through its eye."

Zyres looked away for a moment. 

"The Six Covens are whispering. You have grown weak from the wound you took in the third war. They say your son should wear your crown," Isis watched him closely, despising him with every part of her immortal being.

He pressed his hand to his chest where a gaping wound oozed pus and held a foul smell. 

"It will not heal. Day by day these Dark Priests train their heathans to destroy us. You have halted our attacks, leaving our borders vulnerable!" she shouted. "And they took my daughter and you did nothing!"

Zyres leapt from where he stood, crashing into Isis. He had her by the throat, smashing her down against the floor, the ground cracking beneath her head.

"Bring me that child or die. If you ever speak to me like that again, I will let the Vatican rip your head off and mount it on a spike outside their wall."

Isis lay there, smirking and wincing all at once. "Your body will not survive another war." That was all she said before he hurled her toward the doors. 

"Bring me that boy!"