The large, ceremonial hall was filled with a low, excited murmur from the nobility assembled to witness the Core Awakening of Adrian. At the far end of the hall, Duke Ravenwood stood beside him, his figure standing proud of his son. His gaze was stern, almost unreadable, but there was an unmistakable hint of expectation in his eyes as he regarded his youngest child.
Adrian felt the weight of every gaze upon him. He had imagined this day a thousand times, the day he would awaken his core and finally take his place among the powerful nobility, his life path laid out before him. Stepping into adulthood, his pulse quickened at the thought of whatever power waiting to emerge within him. He stole a quick glance toward the side of the hall, where Princess Elena watched him with a soft smile. Her presence felt like quiet encouragement, though he knew her feelings ran deeper than mere friendship. Feelings which he didn’t want to acknowledge.
Adrian looked down at the shimmering waters of the Awakening Well before him, a relic said to hold ancient magic. At the age of eighteen, those fortunate enough to afford it—typically the wealthy or nobility—were granted a chance to discover if they held the potential for a core, an innate power that marked them as special. The process was straightforward but a little costly; it required the use of a Soulstone, a rare crystal crafted through complex enchantments, meant to draw out a person’s deepest self.
For many, the ceremony was fruitless. Only about one in four were ever found to have a core, and even among those, few possessed abilities of significant impact. The awakening ceremony was, for most, a modest affair—a private moment among family or, for commoners, something done without grandeur or witness. But Adrian was the son of one of the most powerful nobles in the kingdom, and his Awakening Ceremony was nothing short of opulent.
Sunlight filtered through the tall stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the polished stone floors, adding a vibrant glow to the moment. The hall was adorned with gilded tapestries, velvet drapes, and ornate lanterns casting a warm glow over the assembly. The Soulstone he held wasn’t an ordinary crystal but a masterfully cut, rare midnight-blue gem, gleaming with an ethereal, otherworldly light. The Duke had spared no expense, ensuring this moment would be one to remember, a testament to the power and prestige of their house. And he wouldn’t spare any expense in disinheriting him if it was found that the son of the duke didn’t awaken a core, or the core he awakened turned out to be dud.
Taking a deep breath, Adrian held the Soulstone aloft, feeling its weight and the slight warmth radiating from it. His mind raced with a mix of anticipation and doubt. Not everyone awakens their core, he reminded himself. Not even every noble.
He closed his eyes, centering himself, trying to prepare himself for whatever would reveal itself as he started to throw the soulstone in the well, when—
The heavy doors to the hall burst open with a thunderous bang, silencing the crowd. Shock rippled through the room as the royal guards marched in, their boots echoing ominously against the stone floor. Adrian opened his eyes, confused. This was supposed to be a happy day. Yet the lead guard stepped forward with a grim set to his face, stopping before the Duke and Adrian with an air of authority that dared no interruption.
“Adrian Ravenwood, son of Duke Perth Ravenwood,” the guard captain announced, his voice cold and loud enough for everyone to hear. “By order of the King, you are under arrest.”
Gasps and startled whispers filled the room, the nobility recoiling in astonishment. The Duke’s face darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes. “On what charge?” he demanded, his voice dangerously low, yet laced with an unspoken fear.
The guard captain straightened, casting a hard gaze at Adrian. “On the charge of treason.”
The Duke’s face twisted with fury, his usually composed demeanor crumbling as he glared at the guard captain. “Treason?” he repeated, his voice tight with disbelief and mounting rage. “What madness is this? You will explain yourself immediately!”
The guard captain didn’t flinch, maintaining his cold, unyielding stare. “By order of the King, I’m not at liberty to divulge further details in this hall, Your Grace. The charges will be made clear in court.”
Duke Ravenwood’s hands clenched, his knuckles white as he fought to contain himself. A mixture of fury and confusion darkened his face, and he took a step forward, almost as though he would block the guards himself. But the emblem of the King on their armor glinted in the sunlight, a stark reminder of his own limitations. No matter his rank, even a Duke could not counter a royal order, not without risking his own standing—and possibly his life.
“This is preposterous!” he spat, his voice low but seething with restrained wrath. His gaze flickered to Adrian, his jaw set as though weighing the words he would say next. “My son has done nothing to warrant this outrage!”
The captain held his ground, eyes cold. “Our orders are absolute. If you obstruct this arrest, it will be seen as defiance of the Crown.”
The Duke’s eyes flared, but he made no move to defy them. His restraint was thin, yet he knew enough of the King’s ruthlessness not to press his luck in this public setting. With a reluctant nod, he forced himself to step back, though the fury in his eyes made his feelings painfully clear.
Adrian, watching this unfold, felt a surge of unease settle in his stomach, though he kept his expression carefully blank. He had no confirmation yet, but there was an inkling in his mind that he understood the reason for this sudden accusation.
Had they found out about her?
His heart raced with worry, but he held his silence, unwilling to give away anything until he understood the full scope of the charges against him. Instead, he took in a steady breath, trying to quiet the storm inside himself.
Two guards stepped forward, seizing him by the arms, and he offered no resistance. His gaze remained forward, never dropping, even as they bound his wrists. Around him, whispers echoed through the hall, the nobles exchanging stunned, disbelieving glances. Princess Elena’s face had gone pale, her hand covering her mouth in horror, but she remained silent, frozen in place.
As they led him through the crowd, Adrian kept his head high, his pulse quickening at the thought of Zara. Though the full details remained unspoken, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about her.
***
The courtroom buzzed with murmurs as nobles, advisors, and many more onlookers crowded in, their eyes fixed on Adrian. He stood at the center, his hands bound tightly behind his back, the metal handcuffs biting into his wrists. Every gaze in the room pressed down on him, far heavier than it had been in the ceremonial hall. Here, there was no admiration or pride—only judgment.
Adrian’s mind raced as he waited, his anxiety building. Scenarios ran through his head, each more damning than the last. Would they exile him? Execute him? He couldn’t shake the unease that Zara’s name would come up, and if it did… what would they do to her? His jaw tightened at the thought, forcing himself to breathe through the panic stirring in his chest.
Then, the sound of footsteps echoed through the silence. Adrian’s heart lurched as he saw her.
Two guards led Zara into the courtroom, her wrists bound in chains, her head held high the same way his was, with her seven horns shining for everyone to see. Adrian’s carefully controlled composure shattered as he took in the sight. Panic clawed its way up his throat, and he struggled against his restraints instinctively, the ropes cutting into his skin as he moved. They found her… They really found her.
A gasp rippled through the room, shock evident on every face. The Duke’s face went ashen, and his lips pressed into a thin, grim line. The Princess, standing beside her father, stared at Zara with wide, disbelieving eyes, her hand clutching at her dress as though steadying herself. Adrian’s elder brothers and sisters stood with rigid posture, their expressions carefully neutral, but he could see the flickers of horror in their eyes.
The guard captain stepped forward, his voice ringing out across the silent room. “Adrian Ravenwood, son of Duke Perth Ravenwood, is hereby accused of harboring a forbidden demon species in secret. Furthermore…” he paused, his gaze shifting from Adrian to Zara with disdain, “he is accused of treason for impregnating this demon.”
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A stunned silence fell over the courtroom, thick and heavy. Adrian’s father looked as though he’d been struck, his face twisted in disbelief, fury barely concealed beneath the shock. The whispers grew louder, the nobles exchanging bewildered and horrified glances, and the Princess’s face had gone pale, her eyes wide with something between horror and sorrow.
From the shadows, Marquis Lucian Greymont, one of the King’s closest advisors, watched the proceedings with a dark gleam in his eyes.
How did this happen? Adrian’s mind reeled, searching for answers. Only two people had known about Zara, trusted confidants who would sooner die than betray him—or so he had thought. His stomach twisted with doubt, a chill settling over him as he struggled with the terrible realization that someone he trusted may have turned on him.
He wanted to scream, to shout his innocence to the crowded room, but the words lodged in his throat. He was trapped, bound by his own silence, unable to deny or defend. All he could do was stare at Zara, her quiet strength somehow grounding him even now, even here.
The King leaned forward on his throne, his gaze as cold and unyielding as the marble pillars surrounding the courtroom. His expression betrayed no emotion, only a steely determination to uncover the truth. After a long, tense silence, he finally spoke, his voice low yet commanding.
“Adrian Ravenwood,” he began, each word deliberate and heavy, “do you understand the gravity of what you stand accused of?”
Adrian’s mouth was dry, his heart hammering as he looked up at the King. He forced himself to nod, the weight of the charges pressing down on him like an iron shackle. But before he could gather his thoughts, Lucian Greymont stepped forward, his voice smooth and dripping with disdain.
“Your Majesty, this young man’s actions are an affront to all that we hold sacred,” Lucian declared, his words laced with venom. “Harboring a demon—an enemy of our kingdom—and worse, fathering an abomination.” His eyes swept over the room, feeding off the expressions of the gathered nobles. “He has spat on our laws, tarnished the noble blood of the Ravenwood line, and betrayed the trust placed in him as the son of a duke.”
He didn’t want to see the look on his father’s face after hearing his archenemy’s words.
The King turned his gaze back to Adrian, his eyes narrowing. “Tell me, Adrian,” he said, his voice edged with accusation, “did you truly believe you could deceive us all? That you, of all people, were above the law?”
Adrian’s mind spun, his chest tightening under the weight of the room’s collective disdain. But even as he felt the judgment pressing in on him, his thoughts were focused on Zara—her pale face, her strength, her resilience. He couldn’t let her face this alone, not without standing beside her in the truth they shared.
The King’s voice sliced through his thoughts. “Do you deny these charges?” he demanded.
Adrian took a shaky breath, his gaze falling on Zara, and in that moment, the fear faded, replaced by a steely resolve. “No, I do not deny them.”
A ripple of shock surged through the courtroom, the whispers intensifying. The Duke’s face twisted with a mix of anger and betrayal, and the Princess’s eyes shimmered with unspoken emotion, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as if to steady herself.
Lucian seized the moment, his voice rising above the murmurs. “Then you admit your treachery,” he sneered, a hint of triumph in his eyes. “You willingly defied the kingdom, betrayed your noble birthright, and chose to harbor this… creature.”
Adrian lifted his head, his gaze steady as he looked at the King. “I do not deny any of it. I did what I did because I love her.”
The room fell into utter silence, his words settling over everyone like a physical blow. Nobles stared, aghast, while some murmured in shock. The Duke’s face paled, his mouth pressing into a thin, unyielding line, as if the word “love” was the final, incomprehensible betrayal.
The King’s expression darkened, his hands clenched into fists on the armrests of his throne. “You dare to speak of love?” he asked, his tone dripping with disgust. “Do you understand the consequences of what you have done?”
Adrian’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yes, Your Majesty. I understand completely.”
Lucian, emboldened, leaned in with a cruel smile. “Then you would also understand why such treachery cannot go unpunished. For the security of the kingdom, such a union must be erased, and all those who threatened the sanctity of our bloodline must be dealt with.”
“Say another word, Lucian, and I will put my sword into your heart and feed it to the wolves.” The king’s calm voice was more menacing than any shout, his eyes never leaving Adrian.
Lucian’s smugness faltered, his face paling as he instinctively took a step back. Yet, despite his fear, a flicker of satisfaction remained in his eyes. The silence stretched as the king regarded the young noble. “Do you have any argument to offer?” he asked, his tone devoid of sympathy, his expression one of measured calm.
Adrian felt everyone’s stares, but his answer remained unwavering. “No, Your Majesty. I only speak the truth.”
The King’s eyes narrowed, as if searching for any hint of hesitation, any sign of remorse. “So be it.” Without another word, he rose from his throne, drawing his sword and letting it fall with a heavy clang onto the stone floor, just in front of Adrian. The sound echoed through the hall, cold and final.
“If you wish to atone for your crimes, Adrian,” the King said, his voice low and unyielding, “then pick up that sword and rid this kingdom of the demon you harbor. Prove your loyalty, and all will be forgiven.”
Adrian stared down at the sword, its polished blade glinting under the light, but he didn’t move. The very suggestion filled him with revulsion, a visceral reaction that made his stomach twist. He lifted his gaze to the King, his expression resolute. “I would sooner die a thousand deaths than harm her.”
A murmur of shock rippled through the room, and the King’s face tightened, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “I see,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Then I have no son of Perth Ravenwood before me, only a fool blinded by treason.”
Without another moment’s hesitation, he raised his hand and spoke with the authority of an unbreakable decree. “Adrian Ravenwood and the demon Zara are hereby sentenced to die by guillotine with the first light of dawn.” His voice echoed through the courtroom, chilling in its finality.
The room stood still, as if frozen by the weight of his words. Adrian felt a shuddering sense of finality, the knowledge that his fate—and Zara’s—had been sealed. The King’s voice broke through his thoughts one last time, cold and detached.
He tried to feel any regret or guilt for his actions, but all he felt was the feeling of remaining true to himself. He did, however, feel a lot of sadness for Zara and his unborn child.
“You are permitted a final wish before your execution, as is your right,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of begrudging formality. “Name it.”
Adrian took a deep breath, looking at Zara, her presence like an anchor in the storm. “Then… I ask only to spend my last moments with her,” he said, his voice strong, refusing to falter.
A flicker of something—perhaps pity, perhaps scorn—passed over the King’s face, but he gave a nod. “Granted,” he said simply. And with that, he turned away, signaling the end of the trial, and the beginning of the end for them both.
***
The guards led Adrian and Zara down a dimly lit corridor, their heavy footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Their hands were still bound, a reminder of their impending fate. They were escorted to a small, damp cell, its walls rough with age and cold to the touch. Without ceremony, the guards shoved them inside, the door slamming shut behind them with a resounding clang.
Adrian steadied himself and looked over at Zara. Her dark eyes, fierce yet calm, held his gaze as if no bars or chains could separate their spirits. She gave him a slight smile, one that spoke of defiance and acceptance all at once. He moved closer, managing to sit beside her, and for a moment, the silence settled, heavy with all the words they both carried.
Zara broke the quiet, her voice soft but unyielding. “You don’t regret any of this, do you?”
Adrian shook his head, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “No… not even a little. I chose this, knowing full well what it could mean.” He paused, his gaze falling to her abdomen. “I just… I wish I could have done more for you. For both of you.”
Her eyes softened, and she leaned against him, her warmth radiating through the cold cell. “You gave us everything, Adrian. You showed me a world beyond what I ever thought possible. And, for that, I’d face this end a thousand times.” There was a fierceness in her tone, the quiet fire of someone who had accepted her fate but would not be broken by it.
They sat in silence for a moment, their breaths steadying in each other’s presence. Adrian swallowed, his throat tight with emotion he fought to hold back. “I used to think bravery meant charging forward without fear. But now…” He glanced at her, a small, almost boyish grin softening his expression. “Now I think it’s just… doing what you believe in, even when you know the price.”
Zara laughed softly, her voice carrying a hint of sorrow. “Always the noble heart, even now.” Her expression grew serious, her gaze distant. “I was surviving for so long. Alone. The world didn’t care if I lived or died, so I learned not to care either.” She looked back at him, her face softening. “Until I met you.”
Adrian rested his head against the cold stone wall, letting out a long breath. “I’m glad you let me be a part of your world… even if it was only for a moment.”
Zara nestled closer, letting her head rest on his shoulder. “Our time was enough for me,” she whispered. “We took it, and no one can take it back. Not even the King.”
He leaned his head against hers, their breaths synchronizing as the weight of their decisions settled between them like a peaceful finality. They sat that way, each finding a quiet strength in the other’s presence, the silence now gentle rather than heavy.
Just then, the faint sound of footsteps reached their ears, followed by a quiet rustling outside the cell. Adrian’s gaze lifted to the barred window of the door, his brows knitting in confusion. The lock clicked, the door slowly creaked open, and standing there, her face red and swollen from tears, was Princess Elena.
She looked at Adrian, her gaze full of pain, resentment, and something deeper—something almost accusatory. Her voice, though barely above a whisper, carried the weight of everything she felt. “You had everything. And you threw it all away… for her.”