Chapter 20
The fortress was unusually quiet that night. Aeliana sat by the narrow window of her quarters, her fingers idly tracing the cool stone frame as her gaze wandered over the strange skyline of the alien city. The sprawling metropolis beyond the fortress walls shimmered under the dark sky, its architecture unfamiliar and unsettling. Alien spires reached upward, jagged and ominous, glowing faintly in a greenish hue that never let the night fully claim the city. But even with its constant light, there was a stillness that clung to the air, as if the entire world was holding its breath.
There was a weight pressing down on Aeliana's chest, an unshakable sense of unease that gnawed at her. She couldn't put her finger on what exactly felt wrong, but after spending weeks in this alien world, she had learned to listen to her instincts. Tonight, something felt different. There was a tension that seemed to crawl beneath her skin, making it impossible to relax.
Over the past week, the fortress had become a place of whispers and secrets. Tharx had been more distant than ever, and though Aeliana was accustomed to his cold detachment, this time felt different. He was preoccupied, his mood darker and sharper than usual. And the fortress itself reflected that mood. His inner circle seemed uneasy, the guards more vigilant, and Aeliana had overheard snippets of conversation between servants-rumors of rebellion, whispers of political rivals plotting against the king.
They never spoke openly in front of her, of course. She was still seen as an outsider, a fragile human whose presence was tolerated but not trusted. Still, the unease was thick in the air, palpable to anyone paying attention. It felt as though something was about to break.
A sudden, sharp sound pierced the quiet night, the unmistakable clash of metal against metal, followed by the muffled shouts of men in battle. Aeliana froze, her hand gripping the stone window frame as her heart lurched in her chest. She listened for a moment, every nerve in her body on edge, her breath catching as the chaos outside grew louder.
Panic surged through her veins, but her mind barely had time to process it before her feet were already moving. Instinct took over. Her body seemed to know what she needed to do, even if her mind hadn't caught up. Tharx. Something had happened to Tharx.
She bolted from her quarters, her bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor as she raced through the dimly lit corridors of the fortress. The usually quiet and empty halls now echoed with the sounds of violence-shouts, the clang of swords, the rush of footsteps. The further she ran, the louder the noise became. Her pulse pounded in her ears, a frantic rhythm that matched her growing fear.
As she neared the grand doors that led to Tharx's chambers, the source of the noise became clear. Two of Tharx's personal guards lay lifeless on the ground just outside his chambers, their armor soaked in blood. Their bodies were twisted at unnatural angles, and Aeliana had to suppress the rising nausea that churned in her stomach at the sight.
Her body hesitated, a wave of fear and dread crashing over her, but she forced herself forward. She had to keep moving. She couldn't stop. Not now.
The door to Tharx's chamber was slightly ajar, a faint glow spilling from the crack and casting long, ominous shadows along the corridor. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the door, her breath shallow, her palms damp with sweat. She hesitated for a split second, dread curling in her gut, before she pushed the door open.
What she saw inside sent her heart plummeting.
The room was chaos. Tharx stood in the center of the room, locked in combat with three dark-clad assassins. They moved like shadows, their bodies wrapped in ceremonial black armor, their faces obscured by featureless masks. Their movements were swift and deadly, their weapons gleaming in the dim light of the room, blades designed to kill quickly and efficiently.
Tharx, despite being outnumbered, fought with a deadly precision that left Aeliana breathless. His movements were fluid, a seamless blend of power and grace as he blocked and struck with lethal force. He deflected blow after blow, his sword moving faster than she could follow. Yet, even with his inhuman skill, he was at a disadvantage. He was bleeding, a deep gash on his side staining his armor dark red.
Aeliana's breath caught in her throat, her body frozen in place as she watched the brutal battle unfold. She wanted to help, wanted to scream or throw something, but her limbs wouldn't respond. The fear rooting her in place was overwhelming. She had never seen Tharx like this-fighting for his life, his calm, detached demeanor replaced with raw, primal ferocity.
One of the assassins lunged forward, his blade aimed for Tharx's throat. Tharx dodged at the last second, sidestepping the attack with fluid ease. In one swift motion, he spun and drove his blade into the man's chest, the assassin crumpling to the ground with a sharp gasp. The victory was fleeting. The second assassin struck from behind, his blade slicing through Tharx's side, reopening the gash and sending fresh blood spilling onto the floor.
Aeliana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she watched Tharx stumble. The wound had weakened him, and for a brief moment, it looked as though he might fall. But Tharx let out a low, pained grunt and forced himself to keep fighting. With a brutal swing of his sword, he severed the second assassin's neck, sending him crashing lifeless to the floor.
Only one attacker remained.
The final assassin circled Tharx slowly, his movements measured, his eyes locked onto the king's every step. He was different from the others-more cautious, his approach methodical rather than frenzied. Tharx's breathing was ragged now, his body tense and coiled like a predator preparing for its last strike. The wound in his side clearly slowed him, but his focus remained unshaken. His eyes never left his enemy.
The assassin lunged, his blade aimed directly at Tharx's heart. But Tharx was ready. With a swift, precise motion, he parried the blow and twisted his sword upward, driving it through the assassin's chest. The man let out a choked gasp before collapsing to the floor, lifeless.
For a long, tense moment, the room was eerily silent.
Tharx stood in the middle of the carnage, his chest heaving as he clutched his side. His usually impeccable armor was soaked with blood, his posture slouched with exhaustion and pain. Blood dripped steadily from the gash on his side, pooling onto the stone floor beneath him. He took a few unsteady steps, his legs faltering, before collapsing to one knee.
Aeliana's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing with fear and adrenaline. She hadn't fully processed what had just happened-the assassins, the blood, Tharx's injury-but instinct took over. She rushed forward, her feet moving before her mind could stop her.
Tharx knelt in the center of the room, his head bowed as he pressed a hand firmly to his bleeding side. His breathing was labored, shallow gasps that betrayed the pain he was trying so desperately to hide. For the first time since she had met him, he looked truly vulnerable.
Aeliana dropped to her knees beside him, her hands trembling as she reached out. She didn't know what she was doing, didn't know if there was anything she could do to help, but she couldn't just stand by and watch him suffer.
"You're hurt," she whispered, her voice tight with worry. "Let me help you."
Tharx's eyes flicked up to meet hers, and for a brief moment, she saw something in them she had never seen before-pain, raw and unshielded. His usual stoic mask was slipping, the cracks in his cold exterior laid bare in a way that sent a shiver down her spine.
He didn't speak, didn't argue. He simply nodded, his body too weak to protest.
Aeliana's heart raced as she carefully moved to tend to his wound, but the tension between them was thick with unspoken emotions. Something had changed in the room that night. Something had broken. And she wasn't sure if either of them could go back.