Novels2Search
Winterfall
196. Crimson's Truth

196. Crimson's Truth

The heavy air in the room pressed against us as Crimson stood there, trembling with a mix of fury and uncertainty. Her gaze flickered from face to face, the weight of all our eyes on her, but words failed her. She opened her mouth to speak, only for a stutter to escape, her breath shallow and labored. It was as if the enormity of the truth was too much to bear, and in that moment, the room felt impossibly small, the tension palpable in every second of silence.

“Well, out with it!” Cedric's voice broke the stillness, sharp and jagged, his usual calm demeanor crumbling under the weight of his frustration. His tone shifted, as if grief and disbelief had already burned through him, leaving only raw anger in their wake.

I couldn’t help but feel the room tightening with every passing moment. Even Théoden’s calming aura, which usually could soothe even the most volatile emotions, seemed strained. It flickered around us, but it couldn’t seem to reach Crimson. The pressure of what she was holding back made my heart race.

Crimson’s body stiffened, her fists clenched by her sides. There was an intensity to her that was almost palpable, a storm brewing inside her. As the seconds ticked by, she seemed to withdraw even further, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly as she fought to control whatever torrent of emotion surged within her.

“I can’t…” she muttered, a growl of frustration escaping her throat. She inhaled deeply, as if trying to push away the chaos inside, but it was clear that whatever she was facing was beyond her ability to contain.

The rest of us waited, silent but tense, each of us knowing that the words she was struggling to say would unravel everything we thought we understood. The longer the silence stretched, the more oppressive it became. It was suffocating, but then, slowly, Crimson turned to face us. She seemed to focus on me and Théoden, ignoring the rest of the Council entirely. The room held its breath as she locked eyes with me, her stare sharp and unforgiving.

“I believe you have uncovered everything, so perhaps you should say it, Princess?” Her voice was low, full of venom, and yet there was a bitter edge to it that made my blood run cold. She wasn’t just mad; she was furious.

Cedric’s eyes darted between Crimson and me, confusion flashing across his face. “What is she referring to?” He sounded lost, almost betrayed.

I inhaled sharply, knowing this moment would shift everything. There was no turning back now. "The Sybil before you is Crimson," I began, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “A red Dragon that has fought alongside Marcel in Hell.”

The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, no one spoke. Silence fell again, but this time it was heavier—almost suffocating. I could see the shock ripple through the room. Cedric’s expression faltered, and I could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind as the weight of the revelation sank in.

“How… long have you known that the Sybil has been missing?” Cedric’s voice was quiet, a tremor in it, as though he was trying to grasp the enormity of it all. The sudden vulnerability in his tone took me by surprise. He was shaken, I could tell.

“For a while," I responded, my gaze dropping to the floor briefly, the guilt crawling up my throat. "But we had no evidence. Not until today.” I paused, struggling to keep my composure. “I knew we should have mentioned it sooner, but I was afraid. I was afraid that if I did, you would all think I was…”

“Insane?” Crimson cut in, her voice dripping with disdain. Her words were sharp, cutting through the fragile calm in the room.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

I met her gaze, unflinching despite the venom in her tone. "Please, tell me how I am insane?” I asked, my voice calm but laced with an edge of challenge.

Crimson’s nostrils flared as she leaned forward, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. “The fact that you kept this from the Council all this time…” Her words were an accusation, a dagger aimed directly at me.

“We had to find Sybil first," Théoden’s voice interjected, cutting through the rising tension like a knife through butter. His hand rested gently on my shoulder, a silent gesture of support. "Without proof, there was no case. And we knew the consequences of making an accusation without solid evidence. The retaliation could have been catastrophic.”

Cedric, though clearly still struggling to understand, nodded slowly. His hands pressed together as though in prayer, his brow furrowing in thought. “Of course. It’s just… this is a very delicate matter. If Sybil truly is the one in that coffin, and this is a devil’s dragon we’re talking about, I understand why you didn’t come forward right away. But you should’ve told us sooner.”

I nodded, my own guilt still gnawing at me. “We wanted to, Cedric. Believe me, we wanted to. But it wasn’t just about finding Sybil. We needed proof. Real proof.”

The tension in the room was like a living thing now, swirling around us. I could feel all eyes on me, and yet, the real focus was on Crimson. She was like a volatile storm, ready to explode at any moment.

“And as for you,” Cedric continued, his eyes turning toward Crimson, “show us who you truly are.”

I felt Théoden’s body tense beside me, his arm tightening around my waist as he pulled me in closer. "I wouldn’t ask that if I were you," he warned quietly, his voice low but filled with authority.

Cedric’s words hung in the air for a moment as the atmosphere seemed to shift. A low rumble began beneath our feet. At first, it was subtle—a tremor in the ground—but quickly, it escalated into something far more intense. The walls seemed to hum with the energy building in the room, and then, like a beast awakening, Crimson’s body began to shift.

Her clothes tore, threads snapping as her skin seemed to ripple with the transformation. Her body expanded, the bones of her form stretching as her features began to distort. I could feel the heat radiating off of her, the oppressive weight of her power pulsing in the room. Red scales began to break through her flesh, her eyes glowing with an inner fire. She was a force of nature, and we were nothing but ants before it.

Théoden’s grip on me tightened even further, pulling me back as he retrieved the dragon crown—a simple, yet powerful artifact he’d crafted but never used. A crown imbued with the essence of the Dragon King. He held it aloft, his voice commanding as he shouted, “Under the Dragon King’s command, I halt this transformation!”

He yanked one of the diamond gems from the crown, the air around it crackling with raw power as he hurled it directly at Crimson. The diamond struck her chest with a loud, resonant crack, and with a deafening roar, Crimson’s transformation came to a sudden, screeching halt. Her body was frozen mid-transformation, the dragon scales and fangs still visible, but she was trapped in that half-form, a grotesque combination of human and dragon.

“It is you,” she snarled, her voice twisted with fury and disbelief. “The Dragon King.” Her eyes flashed with hatred and resentment as she bared her fangs at Théoden.

Théoden’s lips curled into a faint smile, but there was little warmth in it. “Yes, it is I,” he said, his voice calm but filled with undeniable authority. “The Dragon King. And now, you’ll answer for your actions.”

Crimson’s roar shook the room, her anger palpable, but Théoden remained unfazed. The guards, who had been waiting for this moment, filed into the room, quickly surrounding her. He gestured sharply, his voice cool and commanding as he said, “Take her to the hold beneath the surface. The spell is permanent until I remove it, so she is stuck like that for a long time.”

Quinn stepped forward, handing Théoden a pair of enchanted cuffs. Théoden snapped them onto Crimson’s wrists, the runes on the cuffs glowing faintly with magic. "Keep her contained," he said firmly, his eyes never leaving Crimson. "She’s too dangerous to be allowed any freedom.”

The guards nodded quickly, and with practiced efficiency, they began to move. Crimson snarled, thrashing against the restraints, but her efforts were in vain. The magic holding her in place was far too powerful.

As the guards escorted her out of the room, Quinn shot us a brief, apologetic look, his face grim. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving us alone in the heavy silence.

The weight of what had just happened hung in the air, the gravity of the moment not yet fully sinking in.