Fire in the blood

Chapter 29 – Fire in the Blood

We approached the resting army under the fading twilight. Horses snorted softly, and the air smelled of dust and steel. Prince Damiar dismounted first, walking briskly to a soldier near the camp's edge.

"Have you received word about the king?" he asked, his voice low but commanding.

"I heard he left the castle earlier, my lord," the soldier replied, bowing.

"He's returned," another added. "Not long ago."

Damiar's expression hardened. "Then the time is now."

Within moments, the army mounted their horses and began the advance. The rhythm of hooves beat like war drums. As we rode toward the kingdom walls, I kept pace beside Damiar. He turned his gaze to me—steady, unreadable.

"Get prepared, Princess," he said quietly. "This is going to get bloody."

Before I could answer, a sharp whistle cut through the air. An arrow embedded itself into a soldier's chest. He fell from his horse with a pained grunt.

"Give me that arrow," Damiar ordered. Levi handed it over instantly.

Damiar studied the tip, then raised his bow. His hands were precise. He loosed the arrow at the tower ahead—his aim flawless. A figure dropped from the roof, limbs limp, vanishing in a cloud of dust.

Damiar turned to the army, fury in his eyes. "We will kill. We will destroy. Burn everything they hold dear."

With thunderous cries, the army charged. Swords raised, war cries rising, hooves tore across stone and earth. The Oblivaron forces met us head-on. The battlefield erupted into chaos—flashing blades, flying arrows, and blood-soaked ground.

I stayed near Damiar, matching his movements as best I could. He moved like a shadow—swift, lethal. I blocked blows, struck where I could, every swing fueled by defiance. The screams around me blurred into noise, fire painting the sky in orange streaks.

Then, I faltered.

Flames reminded me of home—of the kingdom I lost. *Is this who I've become?* I thought. *Am I helping destroy another realm just as mine was destroyed?*

I stepped back, dizzy with conflict.

Suddenly, pain stabbed through my neck—a sword. A man dragged me back roughly. His grip was cruel, and his gaze twisted with lust and hatred.

"You should've stayed home," he snarled. "Women have no place on a battlefield."

"And who made you king of rules?" I spat.

He drew closer, arrogance dripping from every step. "I'll carve regret into your skin."

"Step one more inch, and you'll wish you'd never been born."

He laughed, grabbed my wrist—and that's when instinct took over. I twisted, raised my blade, and plunged it deep into his stomach. His eyes widened. Blood gurgled from his mouth.

I knelt beside him, cold fury in my veins.

"You've just been killed by a woman," I whispered. "Say hello to the devil for me."

His hand reached toward me weakly. I stood, kicked him aside, and walked away as he died, slow and humiliated.

The battle roared around me, but I was focused. I dashed toward the palace gates. One soldier shouted:

"Princess—the throne room!"

I nodded and sprinted inside. The hallways echoed with the cries of royalty. The queen's sobs, the princess's screams—it was a symphony of agony.

Inside the throne room, the king stood tall, eyes blazing.

"You bloodsuckers have plagued humanity long enough," he growled. "Now you'll taste pain."

Damiar stood beside him, eyes hard and calculating.

Then, laughter rang through the chamber. A cloaked man appeared, smirking.

"Oh, please," he chuckled. "You won't be saying that if you're dead."

From the shadows, Azelar stepped forward. His silver eyes shimmered, his aura chilling. He struck the man in one swift motion, no mercy.

Turning to Damiar, Azelar smirked. "Apologies for the late entrance. The insects proved persistent."

Damiar returned the look. "You're always welcome to the show."