Chapter 8

The night was oppressive, the air thick with the promise of a coming storm. Seraphina stood on the balcony outside her chambers, staring out into the darkness that enveloped Verran. Below, the castle was quiet, the soldiers and servants asleep, unaware of the dangers that crept ever closer.

She felt the weight of everything pressing down on her—the responsibility, the fear, the anger. It was like a vice around her heart, squeezing tighter with each passing moment. And now, with Kael in her castle, it was all she could do to keep herself from unraveling.

Seraphina's thoughts were a chaotic swirl of doubt and determination. The truth about the war, the Shadowborn, the prophecy—it all made her question everything she had been taught, everything she had believed in. But she couldn't afford to dwell on that now. She had to stay focused, had to keep her mind sharp.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to center herself. The night was silent, save for the distant rumble of thunder on the horizon. The storm was coming, but it wasn't just the weather. It was something darker, something more dangerous.

A soft knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. Seraphina turned, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of the dagger she kept at her side. She wasn't expecting anyone, and the hour was late. Whoever was at her door had better have a good reason for disturbing her.

"Enter," she called out, her voice steady.

The door creaked open, and to her surprise, it was Captain Lyra who stepped into the room. The captain's face was grim, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion. Seraphina knew that look well—it was the look of someone who had seen too much, who had carried too many burdens for too long.

"Your Highness," Lyra said, bowing her head slightly. "I apologize for the late hour, but there's something you need to see."

Seraphina's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her expression neutral. "What is it?"

"It's... best if you see it for yourself," Lyra replied, her voice laced with tension. "It's in the dungeons."

The dungeons. Seraphina felt a prickle of unease. The dungeons were where they kept prisoners of war, traitors, and those who had betrayed the crown. But they had been empty for months, ever since the last Draven spy had been executed. What could possibly be waiting for her down there?

"Lead the way," Seraphina said, masking her apprehension with authority.

Lyra nodded and turned to leave, with Seraphina close behind. They moved through the castle in silence, the corridors dimly lit by flickering torches. The storm outside seemed to grow more intense, the wind howling like a wounded beast. Seraphina could feel the tension in the air, a sense of impending doom that set her nerves on edge.

When they reached the entrance to the dungeons, Lyra paused and turned to Seraphina, her expression grave. "What you're about to see... it's unlike anything I've ever encountered. The guards are shaken, and I had to send most of them away. I didn't want word of this getting out."

Seraphina's unease deepened, but she nodded. "Let's get this over with."

Lyra led the way down the narrow staircase, the walls closing in around them as they descended into the bowels of the castle. The air grew colder, damp with the smell of mildew and earth. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows on the stone walls, giving the impression that they were being watched by unseen eyes.

At the bottom of the stairs, they entered a long corridor lined with cells. Most were empty, their iron bars rusted and worn. But as they approached the end of the hall, Seraphina could hear the faint sound of whispering—low, guttural voices speaking in a language she didn't understand.

Lyra stopped in front of the last cell, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "It's in here."

Seraphina peered into the cell, her breath catching in her throat at what she saw.

Inside, crouched in the corner, was a figure unlike anything she had ever seen. It was humanoid in shape, but its skin was a sickly gray, mottled with patches of dark, oozing sores. Its eyes were black voids, devoid of any light or emotion. Its limbs were twisted and deformed, and its fingers ended in sharp, claw-like nails that scraped against the stone floor.

The creature's mouth was moving, the whispering growing louder as it rocked back and forth, its voice a raspy hiss that sent chills down Seraphina's spine.

"What is this?" Seraphina whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the creature.

"We found it just outside the castle walls," Lyra said, her voice low. "It was trying to get in, but the guards caught it before it could do any harm. At first, we thought it was some kind of mutated animal, but... it spoke."

Seraphina's eyes widened. "Spoke? What did it say?"

Lyra's expression darkened. "It asked for you. By name."

A cold shiver ran down Seraphina's spine. The creature—whatever it was—knew who she was. It had come for her.

"Open the cell," Seraphina ordered, her voice sharper than she intended.

Lyra hesitated. "Your Highness, I don't think that's wise—"

"Open it," Seraphina repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, Lyra drew a set of keys from her belt and unlocked the cell door. The creature didn't react, continuing to whisper and rock in the corner. Seraphina stepped inside, her hand on the hilt of her dagger, ready for anything.

She approached the creature slowly, her eyes never leaving it. The closer she got, the stronger the stench of rot and decay became, like a corpse left out in the sun for days. But there was something else beneath the smell, something more ancient, more malevolent.

The creature's whispering stopped as Seraphina came to a halt just a few feet away. It lifted its head, and for the first time, its black eyes focused on her. She felt a jolt of fear, but she forced herself to stand her ground.

"Who are you?" Seraphina demanded, her voice steady. "Why have you come here?"

The creature's lips curled into a grotesque smile, revealing rows of sharp, blackened teeth. When it spoke, its voice was a guttural rasp, like nails on a chalkboard.

"Princessss... Seraphina..." it hissed, drawing out the syllables of her name. "The Shadowborn... come for you..."

Seraphina's heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her expression neutral. "Why? What do they want with me?"

The creature's smile widened, its black eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "They know... who you are... what you are... You cannot hide... from your fate..."

"My fate?" Seraphina repeated, her mind racing. "What are you talking about?"

The creature let out a low, gurgling laugh, a sound that made Seraphina's skin crawl. "The prophecy... the bloodline... you are the key... to their return... to their power..."

Seraphina's blood ran cold. The prophecy. The Shadowborn. The bloodline. It was all connected, just as she had feared. But what did it mean? What was her role in all of this?

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice tinged with desperation.

The creature's expression twisted into something resembling pity. "It is not what we want... but what you will become... You cannot fight your destiny, Princess... You will join us... or perish..."

Seraphina's hand tightened on the hilt of her dagger. "I will never join you."

The creature's laughter echoed off the stone walls, a sound filled with malice and dark promise. "We shall see, Princess... we shall see..."

Before Seraphina could react, the creature lunged at her, its claws outstretched. She moved on instinct, drawing her dagger and plunging it into the creature's chest. It let out a shriek of pain, black blood oozing from the wound, but it didn't stop. It grabbed her arm with a strength that belied its twisted form, its black eyes boring into hers.

For a moment, Seraphina felt a surge of dark energy, a wave of power that threatened to overwhelm her. It was like standing on the edge of an abyss, staring into the void. She could feel the pull of it, the temptation to let go, to fall into the darkness.

But she fought it, using every ounce of her willpower to push the creature away. With a final, desperate effort, she twisted the dagger, and the creature let out a final, bloodcurdling scream before collapsing to the floor.

Seraphina staggered back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The creature lay at her feet, its body twitching as the last of its life drained away. Black blood pooled around it, staining the stone floor.

Lyra was at her side in an instant, her sword drawn. "Your Highness, are you hurt?"

Seraphina shook her head, though she felt anything but fine. The encounter had shaken her to her core, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed. But she couldn't let it show. Not now.

"I'm fine," she  said, forcing herself to stand tall. "But this... this creature... it knew about the prophecy. It knew who I was."

Lyra's expression was grim. "The Shadowborn have been gathering their forces for some time now. It's possible they've been watching us, learning our weaknesses."

Seraphina nodded, though her mind was elsewhere. The creature's words echoed in her head, haunting her with their implications.

*You will join us... or perish...*

She didn't know what it meant, but she knew one thing for certain—the Shadowborn weren't just an external threat. They were coming for her, specifically, and they wouldn't stop until they had what they wanted.

Seraphina turned to Lyra, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. "We need to move quickly. The Shadowborn know we're preparing for them, and they won't wait long before they strike. I want every available soldier on high alert. We can't afford to let our guard down."

Lyra nodded. "And what about Prince Kael? Should we inform him of this... incident?"

Seraphina hesitated. She knew she would have to tell Kael eventually, but part of her recoiled at the idea of revealing just how much the Shadowborn knew, how close they had come. It would be a sign of weakness, a crack in the armor she had worked so hard to maintain.

But she also knew that keeping secrets from him could be just as dangerous. If they were truly going to stop the Shadowborn, they needed to be on the same page, to share everything.

"Tell him," Seraphina said finally, her voice firm. "He needs to know what we're dealing with."

Lyra nodded and left the cell, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Seraphina remained behind, staring down at the twisted form of the creature. The storm outside was growing stronger, the wind howling like a chorus of lost souls. She could feel the darkness closing in, the weight of the prophecy pressing down on her shoulders.