《Prince of Prophecy》 Chains of Frost and Fire The dripping of water on the cold stone floor was no different to the sound of blood falling delicately off the tip of a blade; she thought to herself as she rocked her body back and forth, trying to summon a shred of warmth to fend off the frostbite pricking at her exposed toes. Her dress, once a swirl of pink and black fabric, was now shredded in several places, reduced to a pile of tattered ruffles stained with dots of red¡ªthe blood she had recently shed. Somewhere along the path from the grand ballroom to the castle dungeons, she had lost her glass shoe. She no longer cared for it, though its only benefit would have been shielding her dainty foot from the icy breeze fluttering in through the high, barred windows. The room around her was pitch black, save for occasional slivers of moonlight cutting through the window as the clouds shifted. The air was thick with the stench of rot, mingling with the sour tang of vomit and urine from a bucket by the cell door. Shackles¡ªfrozen, heavy, and bolted to the stone¡ªhugged her ankle, thigh, and wrists, keeping her pinned in place. The chains clinked faintly as she rocked, filling the silence. She had lost all sense of time since being drugged and thrown into this dungeon. Days¡ªweeks?¡ªhad passed since the winter ball. Her hunger gnawed at her like a cruel animal, her already pale skin growing more papery with each passing moment. Her long pink hair was a mess, tangled and crusted with vomit and other unspeakable grime. The dim moonlight illuminated her pale green eyes, once vivid, now dull and hollow. She propped her chin on her knee, wrapping her trembling arms around her leg for warmth. The royal guards had even taken her prosthetic, leaving the stump of her right leg exposed to the bitter cold. At first, the chill had been unbearable, but as time dragged on, she had grown numb to it. Squeak, squeak. Her pointed ears twitched at the noise. Sliding her emerald eyes to the right, she spotted a small brown mouse weaving its way through the hay scattered in the corner. A sharp pain stabbed through her gums as her fangs extended, piercing her chapped lips. A black, blood-like substance oozed from the cuts, sliding down her chin. She didn¡¯t bother wiping it away; her energy was too drained to heal even the smallest wounds. Hunger clouded her senses, driving her to lunge toward the mouse. The sudden motion pulled her chains taut, a sharp, metallic clang echoing in the cell. Her frail body jerked to a halt as the shackles bit into her wrists and ankle. Before she could steady herself, a powerful force yanked her backwards with twice the strength, slamming her into the cold, unforgiving wall. Dust rained down from the ancient stone as her bruised face met the floor. Pain throbbed distantly like it belonged to someone else. The room swam in and out of focus as she lay there, too weak to move. Footsteps echoed down the corridor, heavy and deliberate. Then came the unmistakable rhythm of three heartbeats¡ªwarm, alive, and painfully human. Delilah gritted her teeth, lifting her bruised face toward the door. The light of a torch stabbed into the darkness, blinding her. Tears filled her eyes as the brightness burned. With a click, the door creaked open, and three men stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. Delilah¡¯s chains rattled as she tried to push herself back against the wall, but there was nowhere to go. The men surrounded her. A large hand reached out, forcing a cool metal mask over her nose and mouth. The edges bit into her skin, shocking her into immobility. Her lips trembled as she felt their hands on her, rough and intrusive, tearing at the fabric of her dress and leaving her body exposed to the freezing air. Delilah squeezed her eyes shut as humiliation surged through her, tears slipping down her cheeks. She let out a strangled sob, then stopped herself. She couldn¡¯t give them the satisfaction. Instead, she forced her mind elsewhere, clinging to a memory¡ªa time long ago, when she hadn¡¯t yet known this pain when her life had been different.
1 Year Before ¡°Keep on moving!¡± The bark of the guard was gruff and impatient, echoing through the crowded city gates. The pink-haired assassin ignored the sound, her sharp, green eyes scanning the scene as the carriages crawled forward, one by one. Oxburr was buzzing with activity, the streets alive with the mid-autumn celebrations. The red and orange paper chains strung between the buildings and the lanterns glowing softly in the dusk gave the city a falsely inviting charm. She knew better. Beneath the cheer of the festival lay the cold reality of Oxburr¡ªa place renowned not just for its academics, but for its ruthless trials and dangerous secrets. Her fingers rested lightly on the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath her cloak as she shifted her weight on the edge of a rooftop near the gate. She crouched low, the black folds of her hood blending seamlessly with the shadows. Below her, the line of carriages snaked toward the city, carrying the na?ve hopefuls who sought glory and knowledge within Oxburr¡¯s stone walls. The voices of the passengers drifted up to her. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± a man¡¯s voice asked. The vampire tilted her head slightly to catch the reply. A girl answered, her tone polite but distant. ¡°The mid-autumn festival marks the start of the school year. All current students gather to welcome the new starters with what¡¯s called the Initiation.¡± Initiation. The word left a bitter taste in her mouth. She had seen enough of Oxburr¡¯s ¡°traditions¡± to know the truth. The Initiation wasn¡¯t welcome; it was a test of survival. She smirked bitterly as she listened to the conversation continue. The man seemed curious, the girl tense. She didn¡¯t need to see their faces to know the expressions they wore¡ªhope, perhaps tinged with unease. Oxburr had that effect on everyone, but the vampire no longer felt its sting. Her purpose here was clear. Like every other mission, she would need to watch, assess, and eliminate. She shifted slightly, the stone beneath her knees cold despite the warmth of the lanterns below. The carriages passed through the gate one by one, the chime of bells announcing each new arrival. From her vantage point, she could see the towering academia beyond the inner city¡ªa monolithic, cathedral-like structure with sharp spires that seemed to pierce the darkening sky. Its windows were like eyes, unblinking and watchful. The vampire¡¯s focus snapped back to the present as the girl exited the carriage. A white-winged man entered the first, followed by a shorter woman with round, soft ears and weasel-like features. Behind her came a girl with narrow eyes, rounded glasses, and a pointed mole-like nose, clutching a quill and notebook, but the girl did not follow the trio. Curious. The girl wore a deep green blazer, her hair short like a boy, and her eyes as white as the snow of the west. She moved like someone trying to find purpose, her steps hesitant but deliberate. The vampire watched as she paused by the grand fountain, her pale eyes scanning the statues and inscriptions. The girl lingered too long near the guarded paths leading to the academia. The vampire¡¯s lips curled into a faint smirk. Foolish. She didn¡¯t belong here, and her curiosity would only lead her to trouble. From the shadows, she followed her, her movements silent and fluid. The girl¡¯s gaze wandered to the rooftops, and the vampire pressed herself flat against the stone, watching as the girl attempted to climb. Her attempts were clumsy, her hands scraping against the rough surface. She was determined, though. She had to give her that much. The girl finally perched herself on the edge of a nearby roof, her attention focused on the square below. The vampire shifted, her own vantage point giving her a clear view of the scene unfolding beneath them. Two hundred initiates were crowded in the centre of the square, surrounded by the current students in their long, hooded robes. The stillness of the scene was eerie, the air thick with anticipation. Delilah leaned forward slightly, her fingers brushing the hilt of her blade. A large bolt of lightning struck with a deafening crack. Delilah didn¡¯t flinch, her gaze locked on the chaos below. Screams filled the air as the bolt found its target¡ªa boy with green butterfly wings. He collapsed instantly, his wings changing hue from green to silver as his body stilled. An elderly man at the front of the square raised his arms, his voice booming over the panic. ¡°Those who are unworthy shall match his fate. And so it begins. Those who remain will have passed the entry exam and are welcomed into the academy as one of our own.¡± The corner of the vampire¡¯s mouth twitched. She had seen this ritual before, but the spectacle never failed to amuse her. The academy dressed up its brutality of the ceremony, pretending it was all for the sake of tradition and progress. The truth was simpler: they were weeding out the weak. More lightning struck, scattering the initiates. The guards drove the survivors back toward the centre, their cries lost in the chaos. The vampire¡¯s attention shifted as the light intensified. She straightened slightly, her sharp gaze catching the figure descending through the brightness. She didn¡¯t need to see their face to know who it was. Her own hood slipped back as her pink hair tumbled free, catching the faint glow of the lightning. She smiled, the gleam of her dagger reflecting in the light as she dropped effortlessly into the square. The scissors in her other hand felt warm against her palm, the weight familiar. She didn¡¯t hesitate. The elderly man¡¯s eyes widened as she approached, but he didn¡¯t have time to speak. Her blades found their marks, slicing through his abdomen and neck in a single, practised motion. Blood pooled at her feet as his body crumpled.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The guards rushed her, but the vampire moved like a shadow, darting between them with lethal precision. Her scissors flashed, her dagger spun, and one by one, they fell. When the last guard hit the ground, the vampire raised her gaze to the rooftops, her emerald eyes finding the girl who had been watching. A faint chuckle escaped her lips before she turned and vanished into the night. She moved swiftly through the twisting streets, the thrill of the hunt still humming in her veins. When she finally slowed, it was only because she sensed something¡ªor someone. The pink-haired vampire scaled another rooftop, her boots silent against the stone. She found the girl where she had left her, her pale face illuminated by the distant glow of the lanterns. The vampire¡¯s blade slid silently from its sheath as she crept closer, stopping just behind her. The tip of her dagger rested against the girl¡¯s throat. ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± The vampire whispered, her voice low and smooth. The girl stiffened, her breath hitching audibly. ¡°Who are you?¡± She pressed. ¡°L-Lynn,¡± the girl stammered. The vampire smirked. ¡°Full name.¡± ¡°Lynn Albert.¡± ¡°Why are you here? On this rooftop?¡± ¡°I¡­ I wanted to watch the Initiation,¡± Lynn admitted, her voice trembling. The vampire tilted her head, amused. ¡°Do you know who I am?¡± ¡°No¡­¡± Lynn flinched as the blade pressed into her neck and broke the skin, releasing a trail of red. The vampire chuckled softly, leaning closer. ¡°You¡¯re clueless,¡± she murmured. Her finger dipped into the blood trickling from the girl¡¯s neck, bringing it to her lips. She licked it clean, her green eyes gleaming. ¡°Delilah Dagon. All you need to know is that you should be very afraid of me.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± Lynn mumbled quickly. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I don¡¯t just kill you here.¡± Delilah sighed, withdrawing the blade and swiping the blood off. ¡°Why won¡¯t you?¡± Lynn asked without thinking, still not turning to look at the vampire. Delilah laughed slightly at the question, sheathing the dagger at her side. ¡°Your blood¡¯s too special to waste on these tiles.¡± ¡°What does that mean?¡± Lynn questioned, turning to face Delilah. But as she did so, the vampire was gone.
The wind carried the faint scent of blood as Delilah moved across the rooftops, her steps light and deliberate. Her weapons were back at her side, the weight, comforting, the faint smear of Lynn¡¯s blood still lingering on her lips. She could taste it ¡ª clean, untainted by greed and desperation, yet electrifying as if the owner was writhe with magical capabilities. The blood tickled her tongue, filling her with immediate relief. She crouched at the edge of a gabled roof, her emerald eyes flicking back to where she¡¯d left the girl. Lynn was still frozen, her pale fingers trembling as they clutched the edge of the rooftop. A faint smirk played at Delilah¡¯s lips. What a strange little thing, she thought, watching as the girl finally found the courage to lower herself back down to the safety of the streets. Delilah leaned back against the stone, her sharp nails tapping softly against the blade¡¯s hilt. She hadn¡¯t expected to find anyone like Lynn tonight¡ªsomeone so ill-suited to Oxburr¡¯s darkness, yet determined to wander through it anyway. Most of the newcomers were either starry-eyed fools or shivering wrecks, clutching their dreams as if they might shield them from the academy¡¯s brutality. Lynn was different. She wasn¡¯t naive, but there was something raw in her, something that Delilah couldn¡¯t quite place. Why did you climb that rooftop, Lynn? Delilah wondered, her gaze drifting to the square below. The Initiation had ended, the surviving initiates herded off like sheep to the slaughter. Their tear-streaked faces haunted the edges of the courtyard, but none of them dared to glance back. Delilah¡¯s grip tightened around her dagger. The academy¡¯s rituals had always felt theatrical to her, a polished veneer to cover the blood-soaked truth. The wind shifted, rustling the loose strands of her pink hair. She pushed herself to her feet, stepping lightly along the sloping roof. From here, she could see the dark spires of the academia towering over the city, their jagged silhouettes cutting through the moonlit sky. Oxburr had a way of pulling people in, its grandeur hiding the cruelty within. It had pulled her in once, too. But those days were long behind her. Delilah dropped silently into a narrow alley, her boots landing with barely a sound on the damp cobblestones. The streets had grown quieter now, the hum of the mid-autumn celebrations fading into the distance. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, their flickering light casting long shadows against the stone walls. Her fingers brushed the edges of her cloak as she slipped into the crowd, her presence unnoticed. She moved like a ghost, her green eyes scanning the faces around her. Most were too drunk or too distracted to notice the predator in their midst. Good. She wasn¡¯t in the mood for interruptions. She thought of Lynn again. There had been fear in the girl¡¯s eyes, yes, but there had also been something else. Curiosity. Resolve. It wasn¡¯t the usual brand of foolish bravery she despised. It was¡­ different. A faint chuckle escaped her lips. You¡¯ll get yourself killed, Lynn Albert. But perhaps not tonight. Her path brought her back toward the academia¡¯s gates, their iron bars glinting faintly in the moonlight. She stopped just short of the shadowed archway, her gaze lingering on the tall spires that loomed overhead. This place had claimed so many lives, so many souls desperate to prove their worth. Some survived. Most didn¡¯t. And then there were those like her¡ªcreatures who walked the line between life and death, who refused to be tamed by Oxburr¡¯s cruel hands. She had no loyalty to this place, no illusions about its promises of greatness. But it was useful, and she had long since learned how to use its darkness to her advantage. The gates creaked faintly as a gust of wind swept through the courtyard. Delilah¡¯s grip tightened on her dagger. She had other work to attend to tonight, but for now, she lingered, her thoughts returning to the girl with ghostly eyes. You don¡¯t belong here, Lynn, she thought, her lips curving into a faint, amused smile. But perhaps that¡¯s what makes you interesting. With that, she turned, her cloak billowing softly behind her as she disappeared into the shadows.
Present Day When Delilah opened her eyes, she was back in the cold, suffocating darkness of the castle dungeon. The faint trickle of water dripping onto the stone floor filled the silence, echoing like the ticking of a distant clock. The haze of her memory faded as pain surged through her body. The burns on her arm stung viciously where sunlight had touched her skin. She hissed through clenched teeth, dragging herself back into the shadows to escape the weak ray of light filtering through the barred window. Her dress had been hastily repaired, the shredded fabric now pieced together poorly. Her pink hair, once vibrant, hung limp around her face, strands sticking to her damp forehead. Someone had scrubbed her skin clean and tucked her hair neatly behind her pointed ears, but she felt no comfort in the gesture. It was mechanical. Empty. A way to prepare her for something she couldn¡¯t yet name. The sound of boots on stone broke through her thoughts. Heavy, deliberate steps echoed down the stairwell above, growing louder with each passing second. Delilah sat frozen, her heart hammering against her ribs. This wasn¡¯t the timid servant who brought her water every few hours. This was something else. Someone else. The footsteps stopped just outside her cell. A tall man stepped into view, flanked by four guards. His blonde hair was combed perfectly into place, and his pale blue eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating malice. His presence was oppressive, filling the small space with an air of authority. He knelt just outside the bars, his lips curling into a slow, cruel smile. ¡°Delilah Dagon,¡± he said, his voice sharp and mocking. ¡°Renowned assassin of Zilah. You¡¯ve been sentenced to death.¡± The words struck her like a blow, yet she didn¡¯t flinch. She had been expecting this. They¡¯d brought her here to rot, to starve, to break. Still, hearing the sentence spoken aloud sent a chill down her spine. The guards moved swiftly, unlocking the door to her cell with a loud click. As they stepped inside, Delilah pressed herself against the wall, her fingers curling into the damp stone. The shackles scattered around her body clinked as she struggled, but the guards were faster. They descended on her, securing heavier chains to her frail limb and thin waist. The cold metal bit into her skin, tighter and harsher than before. She screamed a raw, desperate sound that echoed through the corridor. She kicked and twisted, her remaining strength fueled by panic, but the guards overpowered her easily. They dragged her out of the cell, her bare foot scraping against the rough stone floor. The tall man stood, watching the struggle with detached amusement. ¡°You know,¡± he said casually, ¡°I expected more from someone with your reputation. Aren¡¯t you supposed to be dangerous? Lethal? A legend?¡± Delilah glared at him, her green eyes blazing with fury despite her weakened state. ¡°Coward,¡± she spat, her voice hoarse. ¡°You talk about legends, but all you can do is hide behind your guards.¡± The man¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver. If anything, it grew sharper. ¡°I don¡¯t need to dirty my hands with you, Dagon. That¡¯s what executioners are for.¡± The guards pulled her forward, her body jerking with each step. Delilah¡¯s breath came in short, ragged bursts as she was dragged through the dungeon corridor. Her mind raced, grasping for any plan, any escape. But there was nothing. No allies. No strength. No hope. The stairwell loomed ahead, the faint light of the world above filtering down through the cracks. Each step they climbed felt heavier, as if the weight of her chains was growing, dragging her closer to her inevitable end. At the top of the stairs, the cold wind hit her like a slap, biting into her exposed skin. The sky above was a dull, slate grey, clouds swirling ominously as if the heavens themselves were watching. The courtyard was empty save for the scaffold in the centre, its wooden frame stark and foreboding. A noose swayed gently in the breeze. Delilah¡¯s legs buckled, and she stumbled. The guards hauled her upright, their grips like iron. Her gaze locked on the scaffold, her stomach twisting in fear. She¡¯d faced death countless times before, but this was different. This was final. As they dragged her closer, she clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. Not like this, she thought. I won¡¯t go like this. The tall man followed behind, his voice ringing out for all to hear. ¡°Let this serve as a warning,¡± he called, addressing an unseen crowd. ¡°Even the greatest killers cannot escape justice. Delilah Dagon, the infamous assassin, will meet her end here before the eyes of the gods.¡± The guards forced her up the steps of the scaffold, her chains clattering loudly. She felt the rough wood beneath her feet, the icy wind cutting through her dress. The executioner stood waiting, his face obscured by a dark hood. He held the noose in one hand, the other gesturing for her to step forward. Delilah¡¯s breathing quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. The tall man stood below, his smug expression etched into her memory. Her gaze flicked to the crowd that had begun to gather at the edges of the courtyard. Their faces blurred together, but she could feel their stares, their curiosity, their judgment. The metal noose slipped over Delilah¡¯s neck, the steel biting into her skin like a brand. Her breathing hitched as the executioner tightened it with cold, deliberate movements, each twist of the rope sealing her fate. The scaffold creaked beneath her as the wind howled, tugging at the frayed edges of her dress. From below, the tall man smirked, his pale blue eyes fixed on her like a predator savouring his prey. ¡°Any last words?¡± he asked, his tone mocking, as if he¡¯d already won. Delilah forced herself to steady her breathing, her green eyes narrowing as they locked onto his. Her heart thundered in her chest, but her defiance burned hotter. If this was the end, she wouldn¡¯t give him the satisfaction of seeing her crumble. Her lips curved into the faintest, bitter smile. ¡°I¡¯ll see you in hell.¡± she rasped, her voice hoarse but unyielding. The man¡¯s smirk faltered, just for a moment. Delilah¡¯s gaze darted to the edges of the courtyard, where the crowd lingered in silence, their faces blurring into a sea of indistinct shapes. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, not like this. The executioner stepped forward, his gloved hand gripping the lever. The tall man raised a hand, signalling him to wait. For a heartbeat, Delilah thought she saw hesitation in his eyes, a flicker of doubt. Then it was gone. ¡°Proceed,¡± he said, his voice cutting through the wind. The executioner pulled the lever. The Taste of Blood ¡ª 156 Years Previously ¡ª ¡°Drink.¡± The command, deep and sonorous, echoed through the dimly lit hall. A golden goblet, ornate and gleaming faintly in the candlelight, was extended toward the girl. She hesitated, her rosy pink braid shifting as she reached out with trembling hands. Her pale fingers curled around the chilled metal. The contents of the goblet swirled darkly¡ªan ominous crimson, thick and foreign. She tipped it to her lips, and the foul liquid coated her tongue, bitter and metallic. Immediately, she recoiled, coughing violently as the fluid burned its way down her throat. Her stomach churned, and she gagged, her body rejecting the unnatural substance. ¡°Pathetic.¡± The voice grew colder, slicing through her weak protests. ¡°I said drink.¡± The man loomed before her, a figure of stark contrast: his black hair cascaded past his waist, blending seamlessly into the layers of dark fabric draped over his wiry frame. His alabaster skin seemed carved from marble, and his eyes were voids of black, unyielding as the night sky above Zilah¡¯s endless forests. The girl¡¯s hands shook violently as she raised the goblet once more. Tears slipped from her tightly shut eyes as she forced the rest of the liquid down, swallowing against the rising bile. Her throat burned, and she coughed again, staining her white teeth with streaks of red. The man¡¯s lips curved into a thin smile as he observed her. ¡°Do you know why you are here?¡± She shook her head, averting her gaze. His hand moved swiftly, slender fingers curling beneath her chin and tilting her face upward. ¡°You died,¡± he said simply, his tone dripping with cruel amusement. ¡°Well¡­ you were murdered. But it¡¯s all the same, really.¡± Her green eyes widened in shock. Fragments of memory clawed their way to the surface of her mind¡ªimages she couldn¡¯t fully grasp but instinctively feared. She looked down at herself. Her body was clothed in a tattered dress, white fabric faded and smeared with dirt and blood. The dress clung to her small frame, gaping in places where the material had been torn and crudely repaired. Her skin was unmarred but riddled with scars, deep and jagged, remnants of wounds that should have killed her. ¡°What happened to me?¡± she croaked, her voice hoarse and unfamiliar. ¡°You died,¡± the man said, crouching before her with unnerving stillness. ¡°Your heart stopped. You were butchered like an animal and left to rot. But I found you, little corpse, and I gave you a choice: rot¡­ or rise.¡± His lips curved, baring sharp fangs. ¡°And you rose.¡± Her emerald eyes widened. She scrambled back, her bare foot slipping against the slick stone. ¡°No. This¡ªthis isn¡¯t real. I¡ªI¡¯m not¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re not human anymore,¡± he finished, his smirk growing. ¡°You drank my blood, and it flows in your veins now. In two days, your body will transform. If you¡¯re smart, you¡¯ll thank me.¡± Tears streamed down Delilah¡¯s face as his words settled into her mind. Memories clawed their way back¡ªshouting, pain, knives piercing her skin again and again. Her parents screamed that she was an abomination before leaving her for dead. The alley. The men. A wave of nausea crashed over her. Tears streaked her dirt-smeared cheeks as the weight of his words sank in. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I found you,¡± he continued, turning his back to her. ¡°When a person dies, there¡¯s a small window before their soul departs. If you drink the blood of a vampire during that time, you return¡ªlike this.¡± ¡°WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!¡± she screamed, stumbling to her feet. Her balance wavered; she toppled to the ground as the absence of her right leg betrayed her. ¡°I saved you.¡± His voice was calm, almost bored, as he crouched beside her trembling form. ¡°You¡¯ll keep ageing until your first kill. I¡¯d suggest waiting until you¡¯re older. An eternity as a 14-year-old would be¡­ unfortunate.¡± ¡°Who¡­ who are you?¡± she whispered, shrinking away. The man grinned, revealing sharp, gleaming fangs. ¡°Orpheus,¡± he said, his name rolling off his tongue like a venomous promise. ¡°King of Zilah.¡± Her breath hitched. Orpheus¡ªthe name was infamous, spoken in hushed tones in the shadows of every town and village. ¡°Why?¡± she choked out. ¡°Why did you do this to me?¡± ¡°I have many reasons,¡± he said, rising to his full height, his slender frame draped in layers of black fabric. ¡°I need sharp teeth in my service, and you, girl, have shown me potential. You fought back even when you were weak and doomed. That is rare. That is useful.¡± ¡°Useful for what?¡± Delilah spat, her voice trembling but defiant. ¡°To become something better. A predator, not prey,¡± he said, his eyes gleaming like polished obsidian. ¡°You will be trained. Moulded. You will serve me as one of my assassins, a dagger in the dark.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to!¡± Delilah shouted, her voice cracking. She tried to rise but stumbled, her balance faltering. ¡°Oh, but you owe me, Deelie.¡± His voice dipped, sharp and venomous. ¡°My blood sustains you. Without me, you are nothing but a corpse. You are mine.¡± She froze, the weight of his words sinking into her chest like a stone. Her hands balled into fists, but the fear in her heart kept her still. ¡°Take her to the servants,¡± Orpheus said over his shoulder, his tone dismissive as if she were a chore to be managed. ¡°Feed her. Clothe her. Train her. When she stops trembling, bring her back to me.¡± Two silent figures stepped out of the shadows, their movements smooth and soundless as they approached. Their hands gripped her arms, dragging her from the hall as she struggled weakly. ¡°Let me go!¡± she screamed, her voice echoing against the stone walls. Orpheus chuckled, the sound low and cruel. ¡°You¡¯ll thank me one day, Deelie. You¡¯ll see.¡±
An indeterminate amount of time passed before Delilah¡¯s eyes fluttered open. She lay nestled in layers upon layers of blankets and pillows, sinking into the soft, luxurious bed beneath her. The room around her was what she¡¯d imagined royalty might sleep in: towering walls draped in heavy, silken curtains, an ornate chandelier overhead casting soft golden light, and a vanity adorned with gilded edges. This must be the castle, she thought bitterly, her memory rushing back to her encounter with the King of Zilah. Delilah sighed and swung her left leg over the edge of the bed, but a heavy tug at her right thigh gave her pause. Her breath caught as she pulled the blankets away. The limb she had lived without for years was now replaced by an ornate prosthetic of polished bronze, its design as mesmerising as it was functional. At the back of the knee, a gleaming green crystal caught the chandelier¡¯s light, casting faint reflections across the room. Intricate carvings adorned the metal, swirling into elegant, delicate patterns. The foot tapered into a graceful heel, cleverly designed to collapse flat¡ªa detail that struck her as equal parts ridiculous and impractical. She sat frozen, stunned by the craftsmanship. Her fingers traced the metal, feeling its cold strength. Testing it, she tugged at the prosthetic, but it didn¡¯t budge. It was affixed to her as if it had always been part of her. Taking a deep breath, she shifted her weight forward and carefully stood. She wobbled for a moment, her balance unfamiliar, but with a few tentative steps, she was walking. Her heart thudded as she made her way around the room. Five years of stumbling and struggling with a crutch, and now¡­ Her gaze fell on the black heel sitting neatly on a nearby table, tied with a long pink ribbon. The sight was almost laughable. She slipped it on, finding it a perfect fit. With the heel balancing her prosthetic, she walked more easily, each step more confident than the last. Dressed in a thin robe, Delilah padded to the adjoining bathroom. The grandeur of it was almost overwhelming¡ªgleaming marble tiles, a clawfoot tub, shelves of neatly arranged bottles. She rummaged through the cupboards, finding shampoos and body washes. A wave of relief washed over her as she turned the tap, hot water gushing into the tub. Though her skin had already been scrubbed clean¡ªno doubt by someone else while she was unconscious¡ªshe couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of intrusion. Climbing into the bath, she sank beneath the bubbling water and scrubbed herself with ferocity as though trying to erase every handprint left on her body. ¡°Miss Dagon?¡± The sudden voice startled her. Delilah tensed, sinking deeper into the bubbles. ¡°I¡¯m just in here,¡± she called hesitantly, her voice echoing off the tiled walls. ¡°I¡¯ll be out in a¡ª¡± The door creaked open, cutting her off. A tall, slender woman entered, her dark skin flawless, her long braids neat and immaculate. Her eyes were concealed by a pale bandage wrapped tightly around her head. Delilah relaxed slightly, realising the woman couldn¡¯t see her. ¡°Or¡­ just walk in, then,¡± Delilah muttered, leaning back into the bath. The woman set a towel and a long pink dress on the counter. ¡°You will be joining My Lord for dinner. Please get ready soon.¡± Her voice was soft yet commanding, her smile unnervingly calm. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Delilah asked. ¡°Aster Kamaria. I¡¯ll be assisting you from now on.¡± Aster¡¯s smile widened briefly before she turned and left, her footsteps light on the stone floor. Delilah lingered in the bath, her mind churning. She didn¡¯t want to meet the King again, didn¡¯t want to sit at a table with him and pretend she wasn¡¯t terrified. But what choice did she have? Sighing, she climbed out and wrapped herself in the towel, drying off before slipping into the pink dress.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. As she dressed, her gaze fell on the tall mirror by the sink. Curiosity overtook her hesitation, and she stepped closer, peering at her reflection. Her green eyes widened in horror. Scars crisscrossed her torso, arms, and legs¡ªjagged lines and puckered skin marking every place she¡¯d been stabbed. The wounds that had killed her had left their imprint, a permanent reminder of her death. Delilah turned away quickly, focusing instead on finishing her dress. The fabric hugged her figure, covering the scars, though she could still feel them beneath. When she stepped back into the bedroom, Aster was waiting patiently. The woman gestured for Delilah to sit at the vanity. She obeyed, and Aster began brushing her long pink hair with a silver comb. ¡°Forgive me for asking,¡± Delilah began hesitantly, ¡°but are you blind?¡± ¡°I am,¡± Aster replied, not missing a beat. ¡°I lost my eyes as a child, so they couldn¡¯t regenerate. As someone born a vampire, we can age and develop scars or disabilities until our first kill¡ªjust like you. But we drink blood from the start, not milk.¡± ¡°How can you see what you¡¯re doing?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t see,¡± Aster corrected with a smile. ¡°I sense. Losing one sense strengthens the others. I can navigate easily, and tasks like this are muscle memory.¡± Delilah fell silent, watching as Aster plaited her hair into an elegant half-up style. After a moment, she asked softly, ¡°Can I ask how old you are?¡± ¡°No.¡± Aster¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver, but she offered no further response. She stepped back, bowed slightly, and left the room. Delilah stared at her reflection, unrecognisable yet eerily familiar. Her skin was flawless now¡ªno dirt, no bruises, no hollow shadows under her eyes. Her bright green gaze caught the flickering candlelight, shining with unnatural vibrancy. She tried to smile, but her fangs glinted in the mirror, sending a shiver through her. Tearing herself away, she left the room, unwilling to look at herself any longer.
The halls of the palace were shrouded in an oppressive darkness and an icy chill that seemed to cling to every corner. It wasn¡¯t surprising, but the sheer depth of the cold and gloom exceeded anything Delilah had imagined. As she walked, the candles along the walls flared to life, their golden light chasing her steps as if acknowledging her presence. She passed door after door, each one closed and uninviting until the corridor abruptly ended in front of a set of heavy, intricately carved wooden doors. With no other path to take, Delilah hesitated, then gripped the handle and pushed it open. Beyond was a spiralling staircase descending deep into the earth. She plucked a candle from its sconce, its flame wavering slightly as she started down the seemingly endless staircase. The air grew colder with each step, the flickering light casting long shadows on the damp stone walls. When she finally reached the bottom, she found another door, its iron handle cold against her palm. She pushed it open and stepped into yet another corridor. Frustration bubbled inside her as she traversed one identical hallway after another, each ending with another staircase or another door. The pattern repeated¡ªdoor, staircase, corridor, door¡ªuntil her patience thinned into anger. Her steps became heavier, her grip on the candle tighter, as she threw open yet another random door in the endless maze. A cold hand seized her wrist. She froze. Another hand slid around her chin, tilting her head upward to expose her throat. Warm breath ghosted against her skin, and a low voice, smooth and predatory, whispered near her ear. ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t wander around all alone, Deelie,¡± King Orpheus murmured, his tone dripping with amusement. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting so patiently for you.¡± ¡°I¡ª I¡¯m sorry,¡± Delilah stammered, her throat dry as her pulse raced, though her heart no longer beat. ¡°Come.¡± Without another word, he released her and began striding down the corridor. His movements were graceful and deliberate; his hands clasped neatly behind his back. Delilah hurried to keep up, her smaller steps nearly breaking into a jog to match his pace. They reached another set of double doors, which Orpheus opened with a wave of his hand. The dining room assaulted her senses before she fully stepped inside. The aromas of roasted meats, spiced vegetables, ripe fruits, and decadent desserts flooded her nostrils. The grand table stretched the length of the room, and each dish was presented with perfect precision. Her surprise must have shown as Orpheus let out a low chuckle. ¡°You don¡¯t seriously think we eat people, do you?¡± he asked a hint of mockery in his tone. Delilah flinched, embarrassed but unwilling to answer. ¡°Vampires eat real food,¡± he continued, easing into his chair and gesturing for her to sit beside him. ¡°We don¡¯t need it, strictly speaking, but we enjoy it. Blood keeps us alive; food keeps us¡­ living.¡± Delilah sat hesitantly, her gaze lingering on the plates that materialised before her. Piles of warm, inviting food and a single goblet of dark red liquid waited. She ignored the goblet, diving hungrily into the meal. Each bite was a revelation¡ªflavours she hadn¡¯t tasted in years, textures she barely remembered. After surviving on scraps and starvation for so long, this was pure indulgence. Orpheus watched her, his sharp etiquette contrasting with her ravenous appetite, though he showed no sign of disapproval. Finally, he tilted his goblet toward her. ¡°Come now, Deelie,¡± he said, the nickname grating in its familiarity. ¡°You must drink. I can¡¯t have you dying on me so soon.¡± Delilah bristled but reluctantly reached for the goblet. The dark liquid swirled ominously, its scent rich and metallic. She hesitated, nausea churning in her stomach, but she forced herself to take a sip. The taste was unlike anything she¡¯d expected¡ªsweet, warm, intoxicating. Her eyes fluttered closed as she savoured it, her body responding to the blood in ways she couldn¡¯t understand. She drank deeply, draining the goblet without pause, her earlier reluctance forgotten. When she placed it down, she saw Orpheus watching her, his head propped on interlaced fingers, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. ¡°It¡¯s good, isn¡¯t it?¡± he asked. Delilah nodded mutely and returned to her meal, but nothing compared to the taste of the blood. Once the meal was finished, Orpheus escorted her back to her chambers. His hand hovered just above her back, a silent warning that she was under his watchful eye. When they reached her door, he stopped. ¡°Don¡¯t try to leave,¡± he said softly, his tone as smooth as silk yet heavy with menace. With that, he turned and disappeared down the corridor. Delilah tested the door handle as soon as it clicked shut. Locked, as she¡¯d expected. She sighed, defeated, and turned her attention to the windows, but they, too, offered no escape. Finally, she changed into a pair of silk pyjamas and ran her fingers through her hair, undoing the carefully styled locks until her pink strands fell loose around her shoulders. Climbing into the plush bed, she stared at the stark white ceiling, the events of the day swirling chaotically in her mind. Fear, exhaustion, and confusion tangled together until they pulled her into a restless sleep.
¡ª 4 Years Later ¡ª ¡°Again,¡± Orpheus demanded, his voice like steel cutting through the training hall. Delilah lunged forward, her twin daggers gleaming in the low light. She aimed for his chest, but he sidestepped easily, catching her wrist and twisting. She yelped as her blade clattered to the ground, his foot sweeping beneath her legs and sending her sprawling. ¡°Pathetic,¡± he said for the third time that morning. Delilah hissed through clenched teeth, rolling to her feet. Her bronze prosthetic glinted under the moonlight, streaming through the high windows. ¡°Maybe if you didn¡¯t fight like a snake, I¡¯d have half a chance!¡± ¡°Excuses won¡¯t save you in battle,¡± Orpheus said coolly, circling her like a predator stalking its prey. ¡°Your enemies won¡¯t hesitate to kill you. They won¡¯t give you second chances.¡± ¡°Maybe I wouldn¡¯t need second chances if my lord taught me instead of using me for target practice!¡± she snapped. Orpheus paused, his lips curving into a smile that didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°Careful, Deelie,¡± he murmured, stepping closer. ¡°You¡¯re not indispensable yet.¡± Delilah bristled, her grip tightening on her remaining dagger. She hated him, hated the way he looked at her like she was a tool. But deep down, she hated herself more for needing him¡ªfor the way his blood kept her alive, for the power it gave her. ¡°I¡¯m done,¡± he said suddenly, tossing his sword onto the rack with a metallic clang. ¡°Go clean yourself up. We¡¯re celebrating tonight.¡± ¡°Celebrating what?¡± she asked, suspicion lacing her voice. ¡°You¡¯re eighteen,¡± he said, his smirk returning. ¡°Old enough to make your first kill.¡± Her blood ran cold. ¡°I¡¯ve picked a target for you,¡± Orpheus continued his voice calm but laced with malice. ¡°A gift. A chance to tie up loose ends.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Delilah asked, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Your parents,¡± he said simply. Her heart stopped. ¡°Tomorrow, you¡¯ll go to them,¡± he said, stepping closer until his breath brushed against her ear. ¡°And you¡¯ll finish what they started. No hesitation. No mercy. Do you understand?¡± Delilah¡¯s throat tightened as she met his dark gaze. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to refuse. But deep down, she knew he wouldn¡¯t let her. ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± she whispered. Orpheus¡¯s smirk deepened as he stepped back, his towering frame casting long shadows in the dim light of the hall. ¡°Go now,¡± he said, waving her away like she was nothing more than a servant. ¡°Rest. You¡¯ll need your strength.¡± Delilah didn¡¯t move at first, her legs frozen beneath her. The weight of his command sank into her chest, suffocating her. She clenched her fists tightly, her nails biting into her palms. Finally, she forced herself to turn, her bronze prosthetic clicking softly against the stone floor as she left the training hall.
The corridors stretched endlessly before her, lit only by the faint glow of moonlight streaming through tall, arched windows. Her footsteps echoed in the silence, but her mind was louder than the halls around her. Her parents. Their faces flooded her memory like a tidal wave, blurry but filled with the unmistakable sting of betrayal. The screams. The knives. The cold, unrelenting hatred in their eyes as they abandoned her left her broken and bleeding in the street. And now, Orpheus wanted her to kill them. Her heart ached with confusion. Could she do it? After all they had done to her¡ªafter they had stolen her childhood, her limb, and left her for dead¡ªcould she take their lives in return? She felt the familiar sting of tears, but she blinked them away, refusing to cry. Not here. Not where his eyes might be watching. When she reached her chambers, the sight of the pristine, ornate room felt like mockery. The soft silks, the gilded edges, the pink tones¡ªall of it felt so wrong. She wanted to tear it apart, to scream, to claw at the perfect walls until they crumbled around her. Instead, she stood in the centre of the room, staring at the untouched bed and the vanity¡¯s glinting mirror. Her reflection stared back, her green eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. The scars on her neck and arms were partially hidden by her training tunic, but she could still feel them, like whispers of the past etched into her skin. Her prosthetic caught the light, its intricate carvings mocking her with their beauty. She sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, her head falling into her hands. Her body trembled¡ªnot from fear, but from anger. Orpheus had taken her, moulded her, trained her, and now he wanted to push her over the final edge. He wanted her to become something unrecognisable, something she wasn¡¯t sure she could stomach. ¡°Delilah?¡± The voice startled her, soft and hesitant, coming from the doorway. She looked up sharply, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at her side. It was Aster. The blind woman stepped cautiously into the room, her head tilting slightly as though she could sense Delilah¡¯s turmoil. ¡°Are you alright?¡± she asked her voice calm, measured. Delilah let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. ¡°No,¡± she muttered. ¡°Not even close.¡± Aster moved closer, her movements fluid and precise despite her lack of sight. She perched lightly on the arm of a nearby chair, her bandaged eyes turned toward Delilah. ¡°The King gave you your task, didn¡¯t he?¡± Delilah¡¯s head snapped up. ¡°How do you know that?¡± ¡°I know him,¡± Aster said simply. ¡°And I know what he expects from you.¡± Delilah stared at her, the weight of her anger and confusion bubbling dangerously close to the surface. ¡°He wants me to kill them,¡± she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°My parents.¡± Aster¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but her head tilted slightly. ¡°Do you want to?¡± Delilah froze, the question hanging heavy in the air between them. Did she want to? The thought of her parents¡ªof their betrayal, their cruelty, their hate-filled her with rage. But beneath the rage was something else. Pain. Doubt. Fear. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she admitted finally, her voice cracking. ¡°They deserve it. After everything they did to me, they deserve it. But¡­¡± ¡°But?¡± Aster prompted gently. Delilah¡¯s hands clenched into fists. ¡°But if I do it, I¡¯ll be exactly what he wants me to be. A killer. His weapon.¡± Aster was silent for a long moment, her bandaged gaze fixed on Delilah. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but firm. ¡°Your choices are your own, Delilah. Not his. Whatever you do, make sure it¡¯s what you want¡ªnot what he¡¯s forced you into.¡± Delilah stared at her, the words sinking into her mind like stones. Aster stood gracefully, her footsteps light as she made her way to the door. ¡°Rest tonight,¡± she said. ¡°Tomorrow will come whether you¡¯re ready or not.¡± The door closed softly behind her, leaving Delilah alone with her thoughts. She lay back on the bed, staring up at the canopy above her. Her mind raced, the storm of emotions refusing to settle. Her parents¡¯ faces haunted her, their hatred etched into her memory. Orpheus¡¯s voice echoed in her ears, cruel and commanding. Aster¡¯s words lingered, a quiet reminder that she still had a choice. But as the hours ticked by and sleep evaded her, one thought repeated itself over and over. Tomorrow, everything will change. One way or another.