The Darkness within
Chapter 7: The Darkness Within**
The scent of blood hung thick in the air—cloying, metallic, inescapable.
Dead bodies littered the once-pristine palace grounds. Knights, guards, servants... none had escaped the wrath. Soot from shattered torches drifted through the crimson light, casting long shadows across cracked marble and broken banners.
Screams echoed like distant ghosts. Whispers of pain. Cries for help.
But in the heart of the chaos stood Ravena.
Her obsidian eyes burned with fury.
Her aura roared—violent, volatile, alive.
She was no longer just a girl.
She was vengeance.
> "You will ALL suffer!" she screamed, her voice trembling with rage.
> "You will PAY for every drop of his blood!"
Waves of shadow energy erupted from her, flinging soldiers through the air like leaves in a storm. Walls cracked. Statues splintered. Her grief fed the fury, and the fury fed the storm.
"Hold the line!" a knight yelled.
But they couldn't.
Armies scrambled to stop her—men in shining armor crushed by invisible forces, torn apart mid-charge. Some tried to run. Others knelt, begging her to spare them.
She didn't hear them.
She only saw her father.
The wound.
The fall.
The silence.
A cloaked figure stepped carefully through the carnage toward the throne—his boots untouched by blood, his face hidden behind dark fabric.
> "She's unraveling," he whispered to the prince seated atop the shattered throne.
> "It looks like something is possessing her."
The prince watched her with a calm, unreadable expression, his chin resting on his hand, one finger tapping gently against his lips.
> "Not possession," he murmured.
> "Awakening."
Ravena cried out again, her scream fractured and raw. Her knees buckled. She clutched her chest as if something inside it were clawing to escape. Black smoke poured from her skin, rising like venomous mist.
And then—she collapsed.
Her body hit the marble floor with a dull thud. Her breath trembled. The storm faded. The shadows swirled once more—and vanished.
Silence returned, heavy and unnatural.
The cloaked man turned to the prince.
> "She's unconscious. Should we take her down now, my lord?"
The prince didn't answer right away.
Instead, he stood—elegant and slow, descending from the throne like a spider from its web. He knelt beside Ravena, studying her sleeping form.
> "Not yet," he said softly, brushing her hair from her face.
> "She's not ready... but she will be."
He looked up, eyes gleaming with something far too ancient to be human.
> "What of the queen and the other princess?" he asked.
> "Captured," the cloaked man replied. "They await your word."
> "Good."
The prince rose, his silhouette tall against the bloodied throne.
> "She cannot control the darkness. Not now. But soon, she will learn," he said.
He turned sharply.
> "Prepare the carriage. We leave for Noctarion. The king expects her."
The man raised his hand and barked the command.
> "You heard him! Take the shadow princess—NOW!"
Four guards stepped forward, lifting Ravena's limp body with careful reverence, as if she were both a hostage and an idol.
As her head rolled to the side, the black mark that had bloomed on her skin pulsed faintly—alive.
The final flame of resistance had flickered out.
For now.
But something deeper was stirring beneath her skin.
And in the silence between her breath—
The darkness whispered back.