Chapter Twelve: Blood and Shadows

The air was thick with tension, charged with something raw and electric. The Shadow Hound snarled, its massive form recovering from Seraphina's sudden attack. The assassins hesitated for only a moment before advancing again, their movements precise and calculated. They were trained for this.

But so was she.

Seraphina could feel it now—the power thrumming beneath her skin like an untamed storm. It was no longer just whispers in the dark, fleeting glimpses of something she couldn't grasp. It was there, alive, pulsing in her veins, responding to her fear, her rage.

A dagger whizzed through the air, aimed straight for her throat.

Seraphina moved on instinct. The shadows around her twisted, bending to her will, solidifying into something tangible. The blade stopped inches from her neck, caught midair by a tendril of darkness. She barely had time to comprehend what she had done before she flicked her wrist, sending the dagger flying back toward its owner.

A strangled cry.

The assassin staggered back, clutching his shoulder where the blade had lodged deep. Another lunged for her, but Caius was faster. He stepped in, his blade flashing in the dim moonlight as he blocked the attack and drove his sword through the man's chest.

The Shadow Hound roared again, its silver eyes locking onto Seraphina. This time, it did not lunge blindly. It crouched, muscles coiling, waiting for the perfect moment.

"Seraphina," Caius growled, keeping an eye on the remaining assassins. "You need to run."

Her hands trembled, but not from fear.

No. She wouldn't run.

She had spent a lifetime running—from her father, from the kingdom, from the fate she had been handed. But this? This was different. She could feel it, curling in her chest like a sleeping beast, waiting to be unleashed. A whisper, low and ancient, echoed in her mind.

Take it.

Her vision darkened for a split second, the world around her warping as something unseen beckoned her forward. Power crackled in the air, and this time, she did not fight it.

She embraced it.

The moment she let go, the world seemed to hold its breath.

The shadows moved—not just around her, but through her. They curled around her limbs, seeping into her very bones, filling the hollow spaces inside her. And then, in one violent burst, they erupted outward.

The ground trembled. The trees groaned under the weight of an unseen force. The remaining assassins were thrown back, their bodies crashing into the trunks with sickening force. The Shadow Hound tried to lunge, but it was too late.

Seraphina raised a hand, and the beast froze mid-air. Its body convulsed, suspended by the invisible grip of her power. It whined, struggling against an unseen force, its silver eyes wide with something she had never seen before.

Fear.

A twisted part of her revelled in it. Caius was staring at her, eyes wide.

"Seraphina…" His voice was hushed, almost reverent. "What… are you?"

She didn't know. She didn't care. For the first time in her life, she was not the hunted. She was the storm. And the kingdom would soon know it.

The silence after the storm was deafening. The night, once filled with the battle cries of assassins and the snarling of the Shadow Hound, had fallen eerily still. Even the wind had died down as if the world itself dared not disturb what had just awakened.

Seraphina stood amidst the wreckage of her power, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The shadows still curled at her feet, dissipating slowly like tendrils of smoke, as though reluctant to leave her side. The sensation of raw energy buzzing under her skin had not faded. If anything, it pulsed stronger, demanding more, whispering that this was only the beginning. 

The Shadow Hound, the massive beast that had once towered over her with primal menace, whimpered as it crumpled to the ground. It did not attempt to flee. Its silver eyes were no longer filled with hunger or rage. Now, they only held submissions.

Seraphina had conquered it. She should have felt relief, or triumph, or perhaps even horror at what she had done. But there was only one emotion swelling in her chest—control.

For once… I am in control.

Caius still hadn't moved. He stood a few feet away, blade lowered, his expression unreadable. His dark cloak was torn, his cheek smeared with blood—whether his or someone else's, she couldn't tell. But his golden eyes never left her.

"Seraphina," he said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, wary. "What did you just do?"

She met his gaze, lifting her chin slightly. "I don't know."

It wasn't a lie.

The power had been there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for her to acknowledge it. But she did not know its limits. She did not know its source. All she knew was that it answered her, obeyed her.

And she had never felt more alive.

Caius exhaled, glancing at the fallen assassins around them. Some were dead. Others lay unconscious, their bodies contorted at unnatural angles. There would be no more threats from them.

But this was just the beginning. The kingdom would hear of this. Of her. She had made herself known tonight. And there would be consequences.

"They'll come for you," Caius murmured as if reading her thoughts. "The royal court, the priesthood, the ones who fear what they do not understand. They will call you a monster."

Seraphina's fingers curled. "Let them."

She turned away from the wreckage, stepping over a fallen body as she approached the Shadow Hound. It still lay there, its silver eyes locked onto her. It did not snarl. It did not retreat. Seraphina knelt beside it. The beast flinched. She reached out, hesitated, and then laid a hand against its fur. A shiver ran down its spine, but it did not pull away.

Something flickered in her chest—something dark, something knowing. This creature, this beast of nightmares, had been sent to destroy her. And yet, she had bent it to her will. Not with force. With power. A slow smirk curled her lips. The kingdom would soon know it. And they would fear her.