14. Chapter 14
fourteen
T horne
Fear gnaws at the edges of my mind, but I push it back, refusing to let it show. Not to my men, not to anyone. Especially not now. I know what’s happened. I know who’s behind it. Nyria. That bitter, conniving bitch who never could accept rejection. She wanted the crown more than she ever wanted me, and now, she’s going to try to take Brielle away from me, as if that would make me bow to her.
She thinks I'll crawl to her, put the crown on her head...
The thought twists my lips into a sneer. The only thing I’d ever willingly place on her is my hands—around her throat, squeezing the life from her for this treachery.
Then the sound fills my mind. Her voice. Brielle’s voice. Thorne. Not Your Majesty, not King, not with the trembling fear that everyone else seems to lace into my name. No, just my name, soft and pleading, full of desperation. The sound of it sent a pulse through me, something I’ve never felt. I’ll replay it again and again in my mind, let it anchor me in this chaos. Her whisper of my name is a reminder of what’s at stake, what I must protect.
For years, I’ve fought this feeling. Fought the need to hear her say my name. There was a time I gave up on it completely, resigned myself to the fact that I was just a monster in her eyes; someone she could never want, not the way I wanted her. I told myself that it was enough to watch from the shadows, to protect her from a distance. Pathetic, maybe, but it was the truth that settled deep in my bones.
She infected me, consumed my thoughts. It wasn’t just her beauty or her voice; it was the way she moved through life with such quiet strength, such softness. A softness I didn’t know I needed. She became the one thing that could break through the cold darkness I’ve lived with for so long. And now, hearing her voice in my mind, Thorne , the sound of it cuts through me like a blade, igniting something I can’t control. How long did I deny myself this weakness? How many times did I tell myself she was untouchable?
But with her lost, in danger, I can no longer fight it. I no longer want to. She’s burrowed herself so deep into me that I can’t separate where the need for her ends and the hunger begins.
Gods, why am I so weak for this woman?
She’s more than anyone realizes. More than even I realized. And now, Nyria’s going to try to snuff her out. Like she thinks that will fix everything, that I’ll forget about Brielle if she’s gone.
She’s a fool.
The doors to the throne room slam open, and Lord Valak storms in, his boots heavy against the stone floor. I requested this meeting, well, demanded it; and had my men drag him here the moment they found him. His face is flushed with anger, but there’s something else in his eyes. Guilt. Fear, but not the usual respectful kind. Something deeper.
“What is the meaning of this?” he spits, his voice sharp. “Having me escorted like some common criminal?”
I remain seated, staring at him with cold calculation, my fingers tracing the hilt of the dagger strapped to my side. My brow furrows, and I allow the tension to stretch between us.
“You didn’t miss me, Valak?” I ask, my voice low and deadly calm. I rise slowly from the throne, taking my time. I want him to feel the weight of my presence. “I brought you here to question your whereabouts.”
He swallows hard, shifting slightly, but his bravado remains. “I left here on your orders, as you commanded.”
“No.” My voice sharpens. “You were supposed to return to your quadrant. You were supposed to send your men to find Brielle. Why did that not happen?”
Valak’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, there’s defiance in his eyes. He doesn’t answer right away, and that tells me everything I need to know.
“Nyria,” I say quietly, taking a step toward him, “has her claws in you, doesn’t she?”
Valak’s eyes flash, and he takes a half step back, confirming it without a word. I feel the surge of anger rise in my chest, hot and violent. I want to strike him down where he stands, but I need answers more than I need blood right now. Though if he doesn’t speak soon, I’ll take both.
“I have no allegiance to her,” he says finally, but his voice lacks conviction.
“You speak to your King with a mouthful of lies?” I snarl, my anger boiling over. I’m in front of him in an instant, gripping his collar and pulling him close, the dagger pressed lightly to his throat. “You had orders, Valak. My orders. And you disobeyed them because of her?”
His breath is ragged, but he doesn’t flinch. “I didn’t have a choice.”
I tighten my grip, the tip of the blade drawing the slightest line of blood. “You always have a choice and that choice is always loyalty to your fucking King, Valak.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “And Brielle?” My voice drops lower, barely a whisper, but it holds all the weight of my fury. “If she dies, it won’t be just you who pays. The entire quadrant will burn.”
He trembles now, the arrogance gone, and I see the fear in his eyes. Good. He should be afraid. He should be terrified.
“Where is she?” I demand, releasing him and stepping back, though my eyes remain locked on his. “What is Nyria’s plan in all this?”
“I don’t know.” His voice shakes.
I let out a low, dangerous chuckle before my hand moves to the dagger at my side. With a speed most never witness I throw the dagger sinking it into his thigh as he falls against the stone wall. “You must think I’m weak, do you Valak?”
He screams out and shakes his head, his eyes wide. “No, no, but Thorne, she’s—”
“Enough.” I rush him pushing the dagger deeper as I press him against the wall harder, the stone cracking, the anger coiling tighter within me. “If you want to live through this you’ll give me something useful. Now.”
There’s a long silence, the only sound is his labored breathing. Finally, he speaks."Nyria has an artifact," he finally said, his words slower than I liked. I froze. An artifact?
I take a step back, trying to calm the surge of fury. But my thoughts kept circling back to Brielle, lost in the maze. My maze. The one I was supposed to command, and yet—no connection. No control. The walls and pathways shifted beyond my reach, and the crystal ball I usually used to see her? Dark. Useless. Darker magic is at work here and I knew it the moment my crystal ball denied me sight of her.
“What do you mean by an artifact?” I stared him down, the air thick with my rising fury. He wasn’t offering the information freely; that much was clear. His reluctance wasn’t born of fear, though. It was something darker. Something treacherous.
“Valak,” I growled, stepping closer. My fists tightened at my sides. “Tell me how she controls the maze with this. What artifact does she have?”
He kept his eyes low, avoiding my gaze, his lips twitching, but he said nothing. The insolence was a knife in my gut, twisting deeper. His posture was too calm. Too collected. I took another step, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “Do not make me ask again.”
Still, he was silent. Something snapped in me.
With a vicious move, I seized him by the throat, slamming him against the stone wall of the throne room again. The force cracked the stone behind him for sure this time, as he choked, his hands clawing at my arm. But I didn’t loosen my grip.
“You’ve known something this entire time,” I snarled, my face inches from his. “And you’re going to tell me now, or I swear, I will rip the answer from your dying breath.”
He coughed, struggling for air. I could see the calculation in his eyes; the weighing of options, the flicker of fear beneath his defiance. But he was still trying to play me.
I pressed harder, his skin turning red under the pressure, his pulse pounding against my palm. “Speak.”
He grunted, the fight leaving him as I squeezed his neck tighter. “Alright! Alright,” he gasped, his voice rasping, barely a whisper. “She has... the Crow’s eye of Ashtear.”
I loosened my grip slightly, just enough to allow him to explain.
“The... the crows eye,” he choked, “was hidden in the Catacombs of Midnight. No one was supposed to find it, but Nyria... she did.” His eyes flicked up to meet mine, a flicker of something dangerous beneath the panic. “She didn’t just find it. She bonded with it. It’s fused to her.”
I released him, and he crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath. But my rage wasn’t sated. Not yet.
“Bonded?” I spat. “What does that mean?”
He rubbed his bruised neck, avoiding my gaze. “The crows eye... It’s a cursed thing. Ashtear’s own eye, torn from his head, bound to dark magic. It wasn’t hidden away to be protected; it was hidden because it was too dangerous. It latches onto its host, feeds on their desires, their hunger for power. Nyria... she has carved it into her.”
I stood there, processing the horror of it. Nyria had bonded herself to an ancient, cursed relic, and now she wielded control over the maze; over me. The thought was like acid in my veins. But something wasn’t right.
“How did she get into the Catacombs of Midnight?” I asked coldly, my eyes narrowing at him. “No one gets in there without someone guiding them.”
Valak flinched, but he didn’t answer. His silence was the confirmation I needed.
My eyes darkened, and I crouched before him, my face now level with his, the fury in me barely contained. “She couldn’t have done it alone, could she? No... she needed help. Someone with access.”
Valek’s face paled. I leaned in, my voice a deadly whisper. “It’s in your quadrant, isn’t it? That’s how she found it. Because you led her there. You betrayed me.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but the lie died on his tongue. I saw it in his eyes. The guilt. The fear. The fake show he’s been putting on, the bullshit.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out?” I said, my voice dripping with venom. “You let her take it. You gave her the power to control the maze, to block me from Brielle. And now you think you can walk away from this?”
His eyes widened in terror, his lips trembling. “I didn’t... I didn’t know she’d—”
I moved faster than he could react. My hand shot out, a blade of cold steel finding its way into his gut. His eyes bulged, shock spreading across his face as blood began to pool at the wound.
“I trusted you,” I whispered in his ear as he gasped for air. “But you betrayed me. You helped that wretched bitch, and now... you’re going to die for it.”
His hands clutched at the wound, but it was too late. His breath hitched, gurgling in his throat as he looked at me, desperate.
“I know everything now, Valak. You thought you could hide this? Hide your treachery? You handed her the Vessel. You gave her control of the maze. But I’ll take it back. I’ll tear her apart, and I’ll burn your quadrant to the ground if I have to.”
With one last twist of the blade, his body went limp, his final breath escaping his lips as his eyes stared, wide and lifeless, into the abyss. I let him slump in a heap, wiping the blood from my hand on his tunic. He had been a pawn in a much larger game, but he had been foolish enough to think he could play me.
Brielle.
Nyria wouldn’t stop. Not until she had torn her from me. But she didn’t realize she had already lost. I will reclaim the maze. I will destroy the Vessel. And I will make Nyria pay in the most brutal, agonizing way possible.
I stood over Valak’s lifeless body, my pulse still thrumming with the satisfaction of his final gasp. Blood pooled beneath him, the last of his loyalty drained from the hole I carved into him. I felt nothing. The betrayal ran deeper than any blade, and for that, he paid the price.
"Th-This is madness," Henry's voice trembled from his cage, cutting through the thick silence. He was practically shaking the bars in desperation, his eyes wide with fear. "You've killed him. Killed her too. All of this for nothing. Let me out of here, damn it!"
I didn't move at first. I just stared at Valak’s corpse, my jaw clenched. Slowly, I turned to face Henry, my gaze cold and empty, watching the fool rattle his cage as if I might be moved by his pitiful display.
“Killed her?” I echoed with a low, dangerous chuckle as I closed the distance between us. “You think you know what’s happened? You think you understand anything?”
He swallowed, his hands tightening around the bars. “You lost her, You’re losing control, look at you! You’ve lost, Your Majesty . She’s probably dead now. You—”
I slammed my fist against the bars, the sound reverberating through the chamber, silencing him mid-sentence. His breath hitched, fear flooding his eyes. I could see him calculating—wondering how far he could push me before I’d finally snap his neck.
“Lost?” I growled, my voice low, venomous. “Says the dog in the cage?”
His breaths come in shallow, uneven gasps, fear twisting his features. The fear I wanted. The only reason he was still drawing breath in this miserable cage was because I hadn’t taken it from him yet. I was saving him; no, saving his last breath—for her.
I circled him slowly, watching the pitiful creature tremble, barely able to lift his eyes to meet mine. “You’re still alive, Henry, because I allow it,” I said, my voice a low, dangerous growl. "But don't mistake that for kindness. When this is over, when she stands before us, you’ll see just how meaningless your life has always been. She will see you like this," I murmured, leaning in closer, my tone almost mocking. "Weak. Helpless. And she’ll know what I know: you’re nothing."
Henry’s breath hitched, and I felt the grin creeping up my face. "She will choose me, Henry," I continued, letting the words settle over him like the weight of a guillotine about to drop.
"What if she doesn’t? What if she choses me, her husband stolen from her by the monster of the maze?"
I paused, enjoying the agony playing in his eyes. "Husband? You mean her abuser, her tormentor? Is that what you were trying to say? Let me be clear whether she chooses you or not you won’t be leaving here alive Henry. If that means she gets to drag your corpse out those doors then so be it."
His lip quivered, his grip on the bars of his cage tightening on the bars, as if clinging to some last thread of hope. But I’d already severed it. I crouched down to meet his eye level, my voice a cold, venomous whisper.
“Do you know why you’re still breathing, Henry? it’s because I want you to feel it. To understand that when she chooses me, your life is over. Everything you were, everything you thought you could be to her, the control you had over her…dies here, with you.”
Any spark of resistance dimmed from his eyes, leaving only the hollow emptiness I wanted to see.
“I will not let you die as a man," I said softly, my smile fading into something far crueler. "I will let you die as the failure you’ve always been. And in those final moments, as life slips from your worthless body, I want you to remember one thing: You were never more than a placeholder.”
I straightened up, towering over him as he cowered. His silence was the only response I needed.
"You better hope she’s still alive, Henry," I added, "Because the second she’s not...you’re no longer any use to me. And then, I’ll be free of you too."
The air between us hung heavy with his unspoken dread. Perfect.
If Brielle is in the North, then that’s where I will go. As I storm through the halls, fury tightening every muscle in my body, a deeper rage festers beneath the surface; betrayal. It grips me tighter than any gauntlet ever could, choking me with the weight of it. Valak. Lord of the Abyssal Quadrant. He served under my father, stood beside me when I took the throne. And now he’s gone behind my back, stabbing deep with the sharpest blade; treachery.
For what? What could Nyria have promised him that would make him turn on everything? She’s always been a snake, slithering in the shadows, constantly undermining me. But Valak… I never saw it coming. My father trusted him. I trusted him. That kind of betrayal—that cuts deeper than any sword.
Nyria. That hateful Lady of the North, always biting at my heels like a rabid dog. She never cared about loyalty, only power. She’s ruthless in her leadership, heartless even, constantly ruling the people of her quadrant with fear. I've reprimanded her more times than I can count for the way she runs her territory—cruel, without honor. Not that I’m some saint; no king can be. Nice makes you weak, and weakness gets you killed. But I’ve never been like her. She rules with a coldness that could freeze even the flames of the abyss.
And now she thinks she can take my crown? Control the maze? My maze. The thought of it makes my blood boil. If Nyria takes the throne, the maze would rot under her rule. It wouldn’t be a place of balance, of trials—it would become a twisted labyrinth of suffering, a weapon she’d wield for her own sick gain. That can’t happen. I won’t let it.
But what’s her end game? What is she really after? She knows I’ll never bend to her, never kneel. Even if she got control of the maze, I’d hunt her to the ends of every realm if it meant stopping her. So what does she want? Is it power? Revenge? Or is she trying to eliminate Brielle because she knows... she knows what she means to me.
The armor is heavy as I gear up , but it feels right—cold metal biting into my skin, tightening around me like a second layer of hardened rage. I strap each piece on with precision, the clink of steel echoing through the chamber like a war drum in my chest. My breath comes in harsh, controlled bursts as I fasten the last plate, locking it into place with enough force that the metal grates. The weight of the armor is nothing compared to the heaviness of my intent.
"Gather my men," I bark at the nearest staff, my voice like a crack of thunder. "We march North."
The staff scurries, sensing my rage.. I barely register them. My mind is a storm of violent thoughts, of blood and bones—of her. Brielle. Her name pulses through me like a heartbeat, the only thing that keeps me from slipping into complete madness. I reach for my sword, the hilt cold and familiar in my grip. The blade whispers against its sheath as I draw it, the steel glinting like an unspoken promise of death.
"Nyria's bones will join Valak's in the dirt." The words spill from my lips, dark and venomous, each syllable dripping with the kind of malice that can't be undone. I’ll scatter their ashes across the North if I must, paint the stones red with their blood until there’s no trace of their treachery left.
My men gather, their faces hard with the anticipation of what’s to come. They feel it too—the rage, the hunger for violence. And they know that once we ride out, there will be no mercy.
I will bring Brielle to me.
And Nyria? She will beg for a death that I will not give her until every piece of her has been shattered, until her bones are nothing but dust at my feet.