Chapter 36
This chapter describes child abandonment and neglect. With themes of trauma caused by such abuse.
Aglowing red vine of violent flame snapped around Rain’s throat the instant he leaned through the doorway.
It hit with surgical precision.
The heat was blinding, but the pain—the pain was something else entirely. It stabbed through his skin like molten needles, burrowing deep into tendons, wrapping around muscle, pulsing in a vicious rhythm that made his vision blur.
He grunted, teeth clenched, as the vine tightened.
Before him stood a frail yet ferocious young girl.
Briar; her wild halo of smoky, knotted hair crackling with embers.
She wore nothing but a ragged, stained t-shirt and underwear, her bare legs streaked with soot.
A smaller version of her cowered behind her, swallowed in a makeshift pillowcase dress with holes cut for her head and arms.
Briar’s stance was fierce.
Protective.
Unyielding.
Her power poured from her palm in a continuous stream, feeding the vine around Rain’s neck. She didn’t tremble. She didn’t hesitate. She was in complete control and she had caught him entirely off guard.
Rain curled his fingers around the flaming vine, trying to pry it loose. The moment his skin touched it, pain stabbed through his fingertips, matching the agony at his throat. His breath hitched. His knees nearly buckled.
He had expected something like Raymon’s sting. This was ten times worse.
Using every ounce of strength, he tore the vine free, ripping it from his neck with a guttural sound. The pain flared white-hot, then dulled to a throbbing burn.
Briar didn’t pause.
She unleashed another vine; faster, sharper but Rain was ready this time. He threw up a wall of energy, the vine slamming against it with a hiss.
He stumbled back, pressing his spine against the cold stone wall. Relief washed through him in a shaky wave as he sucked in a breath. Everywhere the vine had touched felt like molten blades embedded beneath his skin. His throat pulsed with raw, blistering agony.
He had never felt anything like it.
Briar screamed, hurling vine after vine at his shield. Each impact rattled the air, her fury vibrating through the chamber. Rain narrowed his eyes, unable to hide the resentment in his glare; not at her, but at the cruelty that had shaped her into this.
Behind her, Ember sobbed; a tiny, terrified sound. The toddler pressed herself into Briar’s legs, trembling violently. Her fear hit Rain like a punch to the chest. She was terrified of him, the strange male who had entered their sanctuary and survived Briar’s flames.
They had never met anyone who could withstand Briar.
To Ember, Briar was invincible.
Unstoppable.
Her whole world.
Until now.
Rain forced himself to breathe through the pain, letting it ebb enough for him to think clearly. His empathic senses sharpened, tuning into the storm of emotions swirling in the room.
Briar’s aura was a wildfire of rage, fear, protectiveness, trauma, all tangled into a single burning knot.
Ember’s was a trembling candle; flickering, fragile, desperate for safety.
Rain’s own energy pulsed erratically, still recovering from the assault.
He straightened slowly, keeping his shield firm and his voice low and steady. The pain finally began to subside enough for him to breathe without effort.
“Briar, I am not here to hurt you or your sister.”
She snarled at the sound of his voice — a feral, guttural sound that vibrated through the chamber. Her energy flared in a violent spike of distrust, defiance, and raw fear. Rain felt every jagged edge of it scrape against his own aura.
“My name is Rain. I am a prince. I’ve come to help you and your sisters.”
Hatred flickered in her dark, hardened eyes; hatred born of abandonment, pain, and a lifetime of being forced to protect the only person she had left.
Rain exhaled slowly.
He was not equipped for this.
Negotiating with traumatised children was not a skill he possessed.
He finally took in the room properly.
It was… squalor.
Neglected.
Bare.
Filthy.
The smell of excrement clung to the air, thick and sour.
The stone walls were stained with soot and grime.
The only semblance of comfort was a makeshift fort crafted from sheets draped over chairs, forming a tiny sanctuary.
Inside, he saw pillows, a few battered toys, and a nest of blankets. Their safe space. Their entire world.
His stomach twisted.
His chest tightened.
His empathy surged painfully.
How could anyone, especially their father, allow his children to live like this?
Royalty born into filth.
Powerful little girls forced to fend for themselves.
When his gaze returned to them, Ember had risen shakily to her feet, standing beside her sister. She was tiny—looking barely two—her pillowcase dress hanging off her malnourished frame. Her eyes were enormous, dark, sunken, watching him with terror.
“Hello, Ember,” Rain said softly, using the same tone he used with Navy. “I want to take you somewhere safe. Away from here.”
Ember looked up at Briar, clutching her hand, refusing to move without her sister’s approval.
Briar scowled and flicked another vine toward him; a warning strike that sizzled against his shield.
Rain’s patience frayed.
This was too much.
Too dangerous.
Too slow.
The sun was sinking.
The risk of discovery was rising.
And he had no time left to coax trust from a child who had never known safety.
He inhaled deeply, bracing himself.
He didn’t want to hurt her.
But he knew he had to act.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he dropped his shield and snapped his power forward.
Briar’s frail body slammed against the wall; controlled, precise, angled so the impact knocked her unconscious without further harm. Ember screamed, throwing herself over her sister’s limp form, sobbing into her hair.
Rain approached slowly, crouching beside them. Ember punched his arm with her tiny fist; a weak, heartbreaking attempt to defend her sister.
“Ember,” he murmured, “she’s okay. I promise. She’s just sleeping. Look.”
He gently rested his hand on Briar’s stomach.
“See? She’s breathing. Just sleeping.”
Ember’s sobs softened into hiccups. She wiped her nose on her arm, staring at his hand rising and falling with Briar’s breaths.
“Come. Let’s go see Rose. Do you remember Rose?”
The toddler nodded, her eyes so dark they looked like bottomless wells. Hunger, fear, exhaustion, all carved into her tiny features.
Rain scooped Briar’s limp body into his left arm, settling her against his shoulder. Then he extended his right arm toward Ember. She hesitated; then shuffled closer, allowing him to lift her.
He carried them quickly down the winding staircase, keeping his senses locked on Briar’s energy. Her power was vicious, unpredictable. He had no intention of being caught by it again.
“Short, I need rope—now,” he panted as he approached the group. “Rose, take Ember.”
Ember went willingly to her sister, though her eyes never left Briar. She sucked on her thumb, trembling.
“We need to wrap Briar’s hands. Preferably in something fireproof. They weren’t kidding when they said that shit hurts. I still feel the burns in my neck and fingers.”
Short’s eyes widened as she examined his throat.
“She wrapped flames around your neck? Rain—it’s red raw.”
He rubbed at the tender skin. The surface pain was nothing compared to the deep, stabbing agony still pulsing beneath.
“It hurts worse than it looks,” he muttered.
He tied Briar’s wrists behind her back, securing them tightly enough that she couldn’t wriggle free, positioning her hands away from her body.
“Keep an eye on her. She may wake. Stay away from her hands. I’m going to find something fireproof.”
He sprinted into Scarlet’s tower and tore down her curtains; charred black but intact. Fireproof. Perfect.
Using Short’s knife, he ripped the fabric into squares and wrapped each of Briar’s hands separately, binding them securely at the wrists.
He exhaled a long, shaky breath.
Hopefully it would hold.
The sun dipped lower, bleeding gold across the treetops. The shadows lengthened. Time was running out.
Rain looked at the princesses; three pairs of eyes stared back filled with questions, fear, hope, and trauma. The weight of responsibility settled over him like a mantle.
Noticing the older girls clutching their comfort toys, he darted back into the third tower. He tore apart the little fort, gathering their dolls and soft toys, wrapping them in a blanket.
They deserved better.
They deserved everything.
He would fill their bellies with good food.
Give them a home.
Give them safety.
Give them training.
Give them a life.
But for now, they deserved to keep the things that had comforted them through their darkest days.
Drazier had a debt to pay.
Four debts.
Four daughters he had abandoned.
Four lives he had condemned.
Rain vowed to collect that debt; on their behalf, before the year was through.