The sun was about to rise, and there was no sign of the prince yet! Arlena was about to lose it. She was worried sick, and the thought of what lay in wait beyond the patches of fog drove her up the wall.

She bit her lip until it bled and swore under her breath. What was he even thinking, she wondered, coming here and making her wait like this? The silence left in the wake of the drums was not making things any easier either; in fact, it made things much more difficult for her than they already were.

What was she going to do if the prince didn’t return before sunrise? It wasn’t like she could enter Mahgrad without being detected, so how was she going to tell the humans that the seal had been broken and that the beasts most likely killed the prince? It was madness! It was—Sirahael?

The Crown Prince came into view as the fog cleared. She slouched forward as if all the tension that had built up in her body perished that second, and she exhaled. He was carrying something, she noted, but it wasn’t until he closed in on the end of the bridge that she saw what it was.

The water dragons rose to the heavens at the same time and drenched the entire bridge, soaking it wet, and the prince was using all of his powers to keep the serpents at bay. She backed away.

The morbid sight made her shudder. Sirahael put the injured boy down at her feet, and, as she was about to ask him who the boy was, he turned around without making a single sound. Her heart stopped.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“H- hey! Where’re you going!?”

Sirahael came to a standstill, but he did not turn around to face her. Arlena clenched her fists. She couldn’t believe what he was telling her without even giving a proper explanation.

“Bring that kid to Belzcakir, Artam.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on!”

He dropped his head. ”I need to save someone. Return to the castle and tell Malakai what I told you.”

“B- but the Queen, I saw her! She’s—”

“I know, Artam. It’s okay, you can leave now.”

She teared up. “It’s- it’s not okay! It’s… it’s suicide!”

But the prince did not say another word to her. He vanished into the fog and abandoned her. She looked down. The fahltyrs were having themselves a feast after all. They had bitten a chunk from this guy’s leg – he was going to die if she didn’t get a move on.

She grunted, annoyed with herself. Why was she so kind? Why couldn’t she be as callous as her mum and just… She heaved a deep sigh and picked up the injured guy. A pair of massive wings grew on her spine as she shut her eyes for a second. Surprisingly, she was becoming quite adept at summoning her kindred spirit now.

As she flew away from Lordôm, she met the Queen’s black eyes from the macabre tower and felt how all the veins in her body turned ice cold. This wasn’t good, she thought, the Queen was going to misunderstand everything.

Still, she couldn’t just let go of the boy and watch him fall to his death, could she? If she did that, then how different would she be from those who slaughtered her forefathers?

Maybe a bloodbath was not the way to go, or rather, not the only way to get Jewarta back.

There had to be another way; there ought to be…