Chapter 63 - I'm aware I'm rare.
I stood there, my mind reeling from the whirlwind of information that had just been thrown at me. The warmth of Remi's hug still lingered, but her cheerful question about a mission I knew nothing about left me cold and confused.
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"Mission?" I heard myself say, the word tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop it. I pulled back from Remi's embrace, searching her eyes for any hint of explanation. Hmm.....that must be why everyone is dressed in tight black. I mused.
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The air in the room seemed to thicken as Kryll's voice cut through the silence. "Seems like Cillian really did kidnap you after all." I watched as he rubbed his temples, his frustration palpable. "That jerk's really obsessed with you," he added, his eyes darting away from mine.
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I felt my face freeze into an impassive mask, years of practice kicking in to hide the turmoil beneath. Inside, though, I was a mess of emotions. Disgust crawled under my skin at the mention of Cillian's name and the implication of his actions. Kidnapped? Obsessed? The words echoed in my head, each repetition bringing a fresh wave of revulsion.
Now don't tell me, these clowns here dragged me along like I'm some discount Batman sidekick at a dollar store costume party? DO THEY THINK I'M SOME SORT OF SQUEAKY TOY THEY CAN TOSS AROUND LIKE A CHIHUAHUA'S FAVORITE RUBBER CHICKEN? My mind reeled, with a smile that would make the Joker ask for therapy, thinking: If I see Cillian again, I'll turn him into a garden salad so tragic even rabbits would send their condolences. And not the fancy kind with arugula – we're talking sad airport cafeteria lettuce here, served with those tiny packets of dressing that explode everywhere except your food. I mused.
I closed my eyes and began reciting the teleportation spell, clinging to the hope of escaping this nightmare and reuniting with my father. But before I could finish, a sharp, searing pain exploded in my head, as if thousands of jagged needles were being driven directly into my brain. The agony was immediate, raw, and unrelenting.
It felt as though some unseen force had reached into my skull and twisted every nerve into a writhing knot of suffering. Each pulse of pain grew sharper, more vicious, like shards of glass grinding against the inside of my mind. My temples pounded furiously, each throb a deafening drumbeat that drowned out all thought. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe—only endure.
The harder I tried to push through it, the worse it became. My body betrayed me; my knees buckled under the weight of the torment, and cold sweat poured down my face in rivers. My vision wavered, the edges of everything around me dissolving into a distorted haze. The spell’s words faltered on my tongue, slipping away like water through clenched fists.
And then it hit me—a horrifying realization that sent a chill down my spine even amidst the firestorm in my head. Someone had blocked my teleportation powers. The pain wasn’t just an accident or a side effect; it was deliberate, a calculated attack meant to trap me here in this hellish moment with no way out.
The pain was overwhelming, a relentless, searing ache that pulsed through my skull. I could barely think, barely breathe. My hands clung to my head as though I could hold it together, as though I could stop the sharp, stabbing sensations from tearing me apart. My vision blurred, and the world around me felt distant, muffled, like I was underwater.
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Then, through the haze of agony, I heard a voice.
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“Lulu!” It was sharp and urgent, cutting through the fog. A woman’s voice. Before I could even process it, I felt her hands grasp mine—warm and firm, pulling me back from the edge of oblivion. She knelt in front of me, her presence grounding me in the moment. I didn’t know her—Remi, she had called herself—but there was something steadying about her touch.
I tried to focus on her face, but the pain made it impossible to see clearly. My head throbbed with every beat of my heart, and all I could do was let out a soft groan as I fought to stay conscious.
Another figure moved into view—Kryll. He came quickly, his movements deliberate yet tense. He knelt beside me as well, his shadow falling over us both. For a moment, I thought they might help me. Maybe they knew what was happening to me—maybe they could stop it.
But before either of them could say a word, the door burst open with a loud crash that made me flinch and squeeze my eyes shut against the sound.
“Wence,” Cillian's voice barked from the doorway. “He’s begun his move!”
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. Even through my pain-clouded senses, I felt the shift in their energy. Remi froze first; her hands went still against mine before she slowly withdrew them. Kryll turned sharply toward the door, his body tense as if bracing for something inevitable.
Their reactions told me everything: whoever this Wence was—and whatever “his move” meant—it was bad. Very bad.
Remi and Kryll exchanged a glance that I couldn’t interpret before they both stood abruptly. Their movements were quick but not panicked—like soldiers responding to an order they had been waiting for.
“Let’s go, Remi,” Kryll said firmly, his voice low but commanding. He reached for her hand without hesitation, and she took it without a word. Together, they turned and strode toward the door with purpose.
I wanted to call out to them—to beg them not to leave me here like this—but my throat felt dry and tight, and no sound came out. My fingers twitched weakly against the cold floor as their footsteps faded into the distance.
And then…silence.
I blinked slowly, trying to focus through the pain that still pounded in my skull like an unrelenting drumbeat. When my vision cleared just enough to make sense of my surroundings again, I realized he was was still here.
Cillian.
He stood by the door for a moment longer than necessary, watching Remi and Kryll leave with an expression I couldn’t quite place—until it shifted into something unmistakable. A smirk curled at the corners of his mouth as he turned back toward me.
My stomach twisted at that look.
He approached slowly this time—deliberate steps echoing in the now-empty room. His smirk didn’t fade as he knelt beside me, his movements calm and measured in stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded.
For a moment, he simply stared at me—studying me like I was some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve. Then he opened his mouth to speak.
I braced myself instinctively—not just for his words but for whatever came next. Something about him set every nerve in my body on edge…even more than the pain already had.
Just as he opened his mouth, I lashed at him.
With a surge of adrenaline that overwhelmed even the searing pain in my head, I lunged forward. My hands found his neck, and I used my momentum to pin him to the ground. The long, flowing black-red skirt of my dress billowed around us, covering most of his legs clad in dark clothing.
"Cillian," I hissed, my voice low and dangerous. His aquamarine eyes widened, a mix of surprise and something else—as if he had half-expected this but was still caught off guard. I gritted my teeth, my grip tightening on his neck as I stared down at him. "Let's see. Cillian Ras Theodore De Valentine Eriko Elmir," I spat out, each name like a dagger.
I saw the flicker of shock in his eyes. How does she know my full name? The thought was written clearly across his face as his carefully controlled expression began to crack.
Suddenly, the room plunged into darkness. The lights went out, leaving us in an eerie blackness broken only by slivers of moonlight sneaking through the window above the bed. The sudden loss of electricity added an extra layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere.
Cillian's eyes widened further in the dim light. With a sudden burst of strength, he surged upward, nearly throwing me off. I stumbled, my grip loosening as he twisted beneath me. For a moment, I thought he'd slip away—my slight frame no match for his determined escape.
But I wasn't about to let him go that easily.
As he scrambled to his feet, I used his momentum against him. I grabbed his shirt and yanked hard, simultaneously sweeping his legs out from under him. Cillian crashed back down, his head hitting the wooden floor with a satisfying thud.
"I'm done with you running off when I need answers," I growled, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't care if we're about to die."
I turned my head briefly, taking in our surroundings. The window above the bed revealed flashes of water splashing against the glass. We're definitely on some sort of ship, I mused, before locking my gaze back onto Cillian's panicked face.
"Let go, death!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of fear and anger.
"HUH?" I blurted, taken aback by his words. But I wasn't about to let this opportunity slip away. Taking a deep breath, I prepared to demand answers—
*KHAUUAHAHAHAHSHSHHS*
The sound cut through the silence like a knife, and suddenly, a bright reddish-orange-yellow circle appeared on the wooden floor beneath Cillian. The mystical light illuminated the room, casting long shadows and bathing us both in its otherworldly glow. Cillian's eyes widened even further, a look of genuine fear replacing his earlier panic.
Cillian's body convulsed violently as an inferno erupted within him. His aquamarine eyes bulged, filled with primal terror as a blood-curdling scream tore from his throat. The sound reverberated through the room, a symphony of pure agony.
His pale skin flushed an angry red, silvery white hair matted with sweat against his forehead. Every muscle in his body tensed and spasmed, as if trying to tear itself apart from the inside. He clawed desperately at his abdomen, leaving deep, angry welts as he tried to rip out the source of his torment.
The pain was all-consuming, a white-hot knife twisting in his gut. It spread like molten lava through his veins, setting every nerve ending ablaze. His internal organs felt as if they were being shredded and rearranged, each breath a herculean effort against the crushing weight of his suffering.
Sweat poured down his face in rivulets, accentuating every sharp angle and curve of his features. In the dim light, his damp skin gleamed like polished marble, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and the elegant arch of his neck. Even in the throes of agony, there was an undeniable, primal allure to him—a raw, untamed energy that crackled in the air around him.
As the excruciating pain finally began to ebb, Cillian lay panting heavily beside me, his chest heaving with each labored breath. I leaned in close, my lips barely grazing his ear as I whispered, my voice low and husky:
"I don't sugar coat shit, I'm not Willy Wonka. Wanna know why?"
I paused, letting the tension build between us before continuing:
"'Cause your level of intelligence is my common sense."
Cillian's eyes flickered to mine, a spark of defiance igniting in their depths despite the lingering pain. His voice was rough, barely above a whisper as he replied:
"Aweee...my love, my heart, my death."
He swallowed hard, gathering strength before continuing:
"I'm not a hot mess, I'm a spicy disaster."
The corner of my mouth quirked up in a wry smile. I leaned in closer, my breath hot against his skin as I retorted:
"Well then, maybe you should eat makeup..."
I trailed off, letting my fingertips ghost along his jawline before finishing:
"...so you can be pretty on the inside too."
Cillian's lips curved into a pained smirk, his voice strained but laced with sarcasm:
"Thanks. I'm aware I'm rare."
He paused, his gaze locked with mine as he added:
"Jealousy is indeed a disease. Get well soon, bitch."
I couldn't help but grin at his audacity. Leaning in until our noses were almost touching, I whispered:
"Don't fucking bark when you can't fucking bite."
The air between us crackled with tension, neither of us willing to back down. Then, in a blur of motion, Cillian's hands gripped my arms, pinning me to the ground. His weight pressed down on me, our bodies flush against each other. Without warning, his teeth sank into the right side of my neck, breaking the skin. Warm blood trickled down the side of my neck, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body against mine.
-Yesterday; Helia Palace; 11.48pm, Hades' Room-
Hades bolted upright from his bed, the silk sheets sliding off his muscular frame. His white shirt, now rumpled from sleep, clung to his chest, while his black pants were creased from his sudden movement. He gripped the knight's shoulders, his fingers digging into the cold metal of the armor. Hades' ruby eyes widened, filled with a mixture of shock and terror that seemed to make them glow in the dim candlelight of the room.
"WHAT? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING?" Hades exclaimed, his voice echoing off the ornate walls of the royal bedchamber.
The knight trembled visibly under Hades' grasp, his armor rattling slightly. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he stammered out his response, "Ye-yes. The traitor, Helios Limonizer Vernoke Domino...he's escaped from prison."
Hades' eyes bulged even further, the veins in his temples pulsing visibly. His face drained of color, leaving him as pale as the marble statues that adorned the palace corridors. He whirled towards Kyle Brunte, who stood stoically at the far end of the room. Kyle's face remained impassive, his grip on the kingdom's news scroll tight enough to wrinkle the parchment.
"KYLE! What do we do?" Hades cried out, his voice cracking with desperation.
Daleyza rose gracefully from her chair, her white nightgown flowing around her like water. The soft fabric rustled as she approached Hades, her bare feet silent on the plush carpet. "Your Majesty. Please calm down," she said, her voice a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around her.
Hades' head snapped towards Daleyza, his eyes wild. "HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO CALM DOWN?" he roared, yanking his arm away as Daleyza reached for it. Her fingers grasped at empty air as Hades continued, "FIRST, MY DAUGHTER IS GONE MISSING, AND NOW MY BROTHER HAS ESCAPED?"
Daleyza's serene expression cracked, revealing a flash of anger in her eyes. Her voice took on a sharp edge as she replied, "Your Majesty, you keep forgetting that Luxana meant nothing to this kingdom to begin with, nor is she legitimate!"
Hades loomed over Daleyza, his imposing figure casting a shadow over her. His voice dropped to a dangerous growl, each word dripping with barely contained rage. "DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE TELL ME WHAT SHE IS. I KNOW DAMN WELL WHAT SHE IS."
Kyle observed the unfolding drama from his position by the wall, his face a mask of indifference. The knight stood rooted to the spot, trembling, while two maids near the bathroom clutched each other's hands, their eyes wide with fear.
Hades, tuned on his heel. His footsteps thundered across the room as he stormed out, the heavy door slamming behind him with enough force to rattle the nearby paintings.
The knight rushed off after the king, his armor clanking as he hurried to keep up.
To be Continued...
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