Chapter 79 - Frostmaw
As the gossip spread like wildfire through the crowd, the sea of people parted to make way for a diminutive yet commanding figure. It was the village elder, his face a map of wrinkles etched deep by time and wisdom. Despite his small stature, he carried himself with an air of authority that commanded respect.
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The elder approached Luxana and Cillian, his keen eyes taking in every detail of the scene. His gaze lingered on the bloodied sword in Cillian's hand before settling on Luxana's face.
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"Your Majesty," he addressed her, his voice carrying clearly despite its gravelly tone. "What is the meaning of this? Why are you here, in our humble forest, surrounded by such death and destruction?" His eyes narrowed as he looked at Cillian. "And who is this man beside you, wielding a bloodied sword as casually as one might hold a walking stick?"
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Luxana's heart raced, pounding so hard she feared it might burst from her chest. Her mind reeled as she sought an explanation that would satisfy the elder and calm the increasingly agitated crowd. Then, drawing upon a well of strength she didn't know she possessed, Luxana straightened her spine and lifted her chin. When she spoke, her voice rang out with regal authority:
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"Calm yourselves, good people of the forest. There is no cause for alarm or further concern." She gestured gracefully towards the corpses littering the ground. "These men were kidnappers, vile criminals who sought to abduct me from the safety of the palace." Her gaze softened as it fell upon Cillian. "And this man beside me," she paused, allowing the tension to build before delivering her shocking revelation, "is my husband. He came to my rescue, as any devoted spouse would do."
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A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, the sound like a gust of wind through autumn leaves. Eyes widened, jaws dropped, and a new wave of furious whispers broke out among the villagers.
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Cillian's eyes widened in shock at Luxana's bold claim, but the surprise quickly gave way to a smirk of admiration. He thought to himself, "Dang man, she really didn't hesitate to admit it." His grip on his sword relaxed slightly as he watched Luxana command the attention of the crowd.
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The village elder's brow furrowed deeply, creating new valleys in his already weathered face. "Your... husband, Your Majesty?" he repeated, his tone a mixture of confusion and skepticism. "We had not heard of a royal wedding. Surely such news would have reached even our humble village."
Luxana stood firm, her voice unwavering as she continued her improvised explanation. "Our union was... unconventional, to say the least. We have completed the sacred rituals, though we have yet to announce it formally to the kingdom."
As Luxana spoke, a hush fell over the crowd. In Elmir, marriages were unlike those in other lands. It was a five-day celebration, rich in tradition and symbolism. The true moment of wedlock, the instant when two souls were bound as one, occurred when the groom bestowed a bite mark upon his bride. This bite mark was a sacred symbol of marriage, a tradition dating back centuries to the kingdom's founding.
Luxana's hand unconsciously moved to her neck, where Cillian's mark lay hidden beneath her collar. The gesture did not go unnoticed by the keener observers in the crowd.
The villagers exchanged glances, some nodding in understanding while others still looked skeptical. While it was unusual for a queen to marry in secret, it was not entirely unheard of in their long and colorful history. Tales of clandestine royal unions peppered Elmir's past, often tied to times of political upheaval or romantic intrigue.
As the implications of Luxana's words sank in, a new wave of whispers rippled through the gathering. The night, already full of surprises, had just delivered another shocking revelation.
-After Leaving the Forest, in Helia Palace; Luxana's Room; 1:48 AM-
The air in Luxana’s room was heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth, remnants of their hasty departure from the forest. As they stepped inside, Luxana quickly moved to ignite the bed lamps, casting a warm, golden glow that pushed back the encroaching shadows. The fireplace, thankfully, still crackled merrily, warding off the chill of the night.
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“HAAAH!” Cillian exclaimed, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet room. Without any regard for formality, he plopped onto Luxana’s bed, his body sprawling across the silk covers. His limbs stretched out in every direction, taking up the vast majority of the sleeping space.
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"BRO!" Luxana exclaimed, her voice laced with exasperation. "SLEEP ON THE COUCH!!" She gestured emphatically towards a velvet chaise lounge nestled against the far wall. It was hardly as comfortable as the bed, but it was certainly preferable to sharing her sleeping space with the infuriating man who now occupied it.
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Cillian’s eyes remained shut, his voice cool and detached. “I ain’t your bro.”
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Luxana’s huff of frustration filled the room. "I want you on the couch by the time I get out of the bathroom," she declared, her ruby eyes flashing with annoyance. With a swift turn, she marched towards the en-suite bathroom, eager to rid herself of the grime and blood of the evening and, perhaps, to find a moment of peace and quiet.
-Helia Palace; Luxana's Bathroom; 2:08 AM-
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The sound of running water filled the bathroom, followed by the soft clink of glass as Luxana retrieved a bottle of scented soap. The warm water cascaded over her skin, washing away the physical reminders of her near abduction. Yet, no matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn't seem to erase the lingering images of the fallen kidnappers or the unsettlingly calm expression on Cillian's face as he dispatched them.
-Helia Palace; Luxana's Room; 2:28 AM-
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Twenty minutes later, Luxana emerged from the bathroom, clad in a full-length white nightgown that covered her from neck to toe. Her wet hair was loosely gathered at the nape of her neck, and her face was scrubbed clean of makeup. She was no longer a queen, but a woman seeking comfort and rest.
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But her hope for a peaceful night was quickly dashed. Cillian still sprawled across her bed, seemingly oblivious to her return. A frustrated look crossed Luxana's face as she walked purposefully towards the bed. "GO TO THE COUCH!!!!" she shouted, her voice filled with the authority only a queen could muster.
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"NAH," he replied, his voice muffled by the pillows. With a lazy roll, he turned to his side, presenting his back to her as if inviting her to leave him undisturbed.
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A sigh escaped Luxana's lips. She had tried reasoning, shouting, and now only physical persuasion remained. With a determined glint in her eyes, she walked closer to the bed and grabbed his right hand with both of hers. Her small hands wrapped tightly around his larger one, and she began to pull.
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But her efforts were in vain. Cillian remained stubbornly fixed to the bed, unmoved by her attempts to dislodge him. His arm stretched taut, but his body refused to budge. Seeing her efforts were futile, Cillian went back to his original position, laying on his back with a hint of amusement dancing in his aquamarine eyes.
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Luxana stopped pulling, thinking that perhaps he would now get off the bed out of his own volition. But moments passed, and he remained still. Impatient, Luxana turned her back on him, only to find herself suddenly yanked back.
*PULL*
With a single, swift motion, Cillian tightened his grip and pulled her forward. She stumbled, losing her balance as he rose up and wrapped an arm around her incoming waist, falling to his side and drawing her down with him. Luxana landed with a soft thud, finding herself lying right next to him on the bed.
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Luxana was taken aback by the suddenness of his actions. She looked up into his face, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of something else she couldn't quite name. His aquamarine eyes sparkled with mischief as they met hers, and a beautiful smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
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His free hand reached for her hair, his fingers gently threading through the damp strands. "I liked them better when they were orange," he murmured, his voice soft and intimate.
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"Then I'll keep it black forever," Luxana replied, her tone indifferent despite the flutter in her chest caused by his closeness. With a surge of determination, she pushed herself up, attempting to put some distance between them. "GET OFF THE BED NOW!" she shouted once more, her voice laced with a mixture of anger and vulnerability.
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"What'd I even do to deserve this?" He questioned, his voice dripping with melodrama as he rose up on the bed too.
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He turned his head to Luxana, his eyes searching hers. The mischief had vanished, replaced by an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. "OUT," Luxana spat, her expression expressionless, as if trying to hide any emotion she might be feeling.
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Cillian with swift and rapid movement, he grabbed Luxana's head with his hands, and bumped their faces close together.
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His aquamarine eyes boring into her ruby red eyes—a gaze so intense it felt as if it could slice past her flesh and bone and unravel the very fabric of her soul. The world seemed to fall away, as though her very being was laid bare beneath the weight of that gaze.
The wind howled like a banshee, tearing at Cillian’s tailored black attire as he stood amidst the frozen desolation. Jagged peaks of ice scraped against the sky, their obsidian surfaces reflecting the dim, spectral light that filtered through the swirling snow. The air itself seemed to vibrate with cold, each breath crystallizing into a cloud of icy vapor that stung his lungs. He was a solitary figure against a canvas of unforgiving, frozen majesty, the biting cold a stark reminder of his mortality in this supernatural realm.
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A tremor ran through the ground beneath his feet, a deep, resonant vibration that spoke of immense power awakening. Cracks spiderwebbed across the frozen ground, their black lines stark against the pristine white. The air grew heavy, charged with an unseen energy that made the hairs on Cillian’s neck stand on end. A guttural roar shattered the oppressive silence, a sound that echoed through the icy canyons like the death knell of the world.
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Emerging from the depths of a yawning chasm was the Frostmaw, a creature ripped from the nightmares of ancient gods. It was a towering behemoth of ice and fury, standing easily ten feet tall and seemingly as wide as a carriage. Its hide was a mosaic of jagged spikes and thick plates of glacial ice, each shard as sharp as a honed blade. From its maw spilled a cloud of frigid breath that solidified into razor-sharp icicles that clattered on the frozen ground. Two eyes, glowing with an inner inferno, fixed on Cillian with a predatory hunger.
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Cillian’s hand moved with practiced speed, drawing his sword from its scabbard. The polished steel reflected the pale light, a slender beacon of defiance against the monstrous shadow looming before him. His face remained impassive, betraying none of the dread that clawed at his gut. He was a warrior, a tool, and fear had no place in his heart. He centered himself, his mind narrowing to a razor's edge, focused solely on the deadly task before him. He was a small figure against an immense beast, but his determination was absolute.
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The Frostmaw charged, its massive limbs pounding against the frozen ground, creating tremors that threatened to topple Cillian from his feet. The wind screamed as the beast’s massive claws tore through the air, each swipe capable of cleaving a man in two. Cillian moved with impossible speed, darting to the side just as a claw grazed his arm, tearing his sleeve and drawing a line of stinging pain across his flesh.
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He retaliated, moving with a speed that belied the icy ground, darting in close and slashing at the Frostmaw’s thick legs. His blade bit into the icy flesh, drawing a guttural roar of pain from the beast. Chunks of ice shattered and fell to the ground, revealing raw, bleeding muscle beneath. But his attacks were like pinpricks against a mountain of ice, barely slowing the Frostmaw’s advance.
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He leaped and dodged, his black form a blur against the blinding white of the landscape. His breath grew ragged, and beads of sweat trickled down his temples, freezing instantly in the frigid air. He was tiring, his muscles screaming in protest with each acrobatic maneuver.
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As the Frostmaw lunged again, its icy breath frosting his eyelashes, Cillian knew he had to act. He closed his eyes, drawing upon the dark power that lay dormant within him. Demonic energy surged through his veins, electrifying his senses and filling him with a savage, exhilarating strength.
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Black lightning crackled around his body, illuminating the battlefield with an eerie, otherworldly glow. His silver hair whipped around his face like living serpents, and his aquamarine eyes burned with a hellish light. The air crackled and popped with dark energy, the scent of ozone filling his nostrils.
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With a deafening roar, Cillian unleashed his demonic power. A bolt of pure darkness erupted from his outstretched hand, striking the Frostmaw squarely in the chest. The beast staggered back, its massive form convulsing as the black lightning arced across its icy hide. Trails of blackened, smoking flesh appeared on the beast's frosty hide.
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The Frostmaw flailed, its massive limbs thrashing wildly as it lost its footing on the icy ground. It crashed to its knees, its guttural roars of pain echoing through the desolate landscape. Cillian seized his opportunity, leaping onto the beast’s back, his boots digging into its thick hide for purchase.
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The Frostmaw writhed, its massive muscles contracting as it tried to dislodge Cillian, its body trembled violently. It bucked and twisted, trying to throw Cillian off its back, but the nimble swordsman held on tight.
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Cillian grabbed onto the beast’s spiked head, and raised his blade. Finally the swords was stabbed right through the skull.
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The Frostmaw roared one last time, a sound filled with agony and defeat. Then, with a final shudder, its massive body collapsed, crashing onto the icy ground with earth-shattering force.
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The beast’s head was filled with black lightning, the only color that could be seen was from the dark demon inside. As Cillian stood triumphant upon the fallen monster, his face streaked with blood and sweat. His breath was shallow and ragged, and his body trembled with exhaustion. Still, in his eyes was the steely glint of victory. He had faced a beast of legend, and he had emerged the victor. His black clothing turned red where he was cut from the sharp claws of the deadly ice beast.
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His gaze sweeping over the fallen corpse of the Frostmaw.
To be Continued...
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