The colossal black gates of the formidable Dreadthorne Castle slowly creaked open, a chilling wind sweeping out, carrying a sense of ominous foreboding that made the hair stand up on one’s skin.
From within the shadows emerged a tall figure, the silver glint of his long hair was the first to catch the bloody sunlight. It shimmered like quicksilver against the dark blue of his attire, lending him a charming yet unsettling aura.
Edmund Thorne had finally stepped out of his eight-month-long seclusion, and it was news that had already spread far and wide before he even came out.
As his sharp, ghostly red eyes, scanned over the three assembled young lords and ladies and a few more standing behind, a silence fell over them, as though the very air they breathed had frozen over.𝑂𝑣𝐥xt.𝗇t
Yet, when he strode forward, his every move radiating an effortless, predatory grace, a sudden clamor erupted amongst the young lords and ladies.
Their faces were plastered with ingratiating smiles, eagerness sparkling in their eyes, reflecting their fascination as they tried to garner his attention.
“At least you all didn’t forget me, especially you three,” Edmund said with a subtle snicker as he looked at the two young lords and a young lady walking towards him with fervent steps.
“Edmund, welcome back!” called out a fawning young lord, his eyes glowing with a peculiar mix of reverence and fear.
He was none other than Young Lord Thaddaeus Slate from House Slate, a race of Gargoyles, one of the twenty powerful Paramount Houses, ranked right below the three Great Houses.
He stood tall, his muscular frame dressed in an armor-like ensemble forged from the rocks of the mountains his house rules. His skin was a tanned bronze, accentuated by the stark contrast of his slate-gray eyes and short, coal-black hair.
“Did your reaping and raiding go well these months, Edmund? Your aura surely seems stronger than ever, hehe,” a young lady chimed in, a flirtatious anticipation lacing her words.
She was none other than Lady Zephyrine Gale from House Gale and belonged to one of the Paramount Houses.
They were a race of Harpies that were known for their dominion of wind and storm and had humanoid bodies with a set of majestic wings that they proudly displayed as their status and power.
She wore a flowing silver-blue gown, and the gown clung to her slender figure before billowing out into a flaring skirt that seemed to sway with even the slightest breeze.
With her piercing dark green eyes, her black hair cascading down her back, and coupled with her delicate features, she was quite known for her uncanny beauty and her powerful affinity for wind and storm magic.
Edmund cast a casual, dismissive glance over them, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Pfft, what do you think?” he asked, his voice a smooth drawl as he eyed her cleavage with a wink, making her blush.
“Welcome back, Edmund! We’ve certainly missed your… indomitable presence,” With a grin that rivaled the fiery warmth of his own element, Young Lord Ignatius Pyre stepped forward, extending a hand towards Edmund. His voice rang out with a distinctive fervor, resonating in the otherwise still courtyard,
The House of Pyre, another Paramount House, resided in the scorching depths of the Bloodburn Kingdom, within the bowels of active volcanoes, and yet the strongest young genius from this House somehow came to be one of Edmund’s circle.
He was adorned in an outfit that seemed as though it was forged from flames themselves. The suit was fitted perfectly to his athletic build, the bold colors enhancing his fiery red hair that fell in unruly waves down to his shoulders. His eyes were dark and hypnotic as a blazing fire. His skin , bronzed and seemed to glow from the heat of his homeland.
He continued, an edge of relief accentuating his tone, “Rumors were ripe about your father putting you under some sort of house arrest. I must say I’m relieved to see they weren’t true.”
Edmund’s chilling gaze fixed on Ignatius, the light dancing in his crimson eyes in sharp contrast to the ghostly pallor of his skin. He grabbed Ignatius’s extended hand with an iron grip, his voice as cold as ice, “And who, pray tell, was the fool spreading such nonsense?”
Inwardly, Edmund felt his face wince since the truth was that his father indeed grounded him for months because he massacred some insignificant people.
The only good thing was that he got to focus on getting stronger, especially with the Quest of the Worthy coming up, and Sabina’s presence surely helped him cope even if he didn’t get to interact much. But how could he let anybody else know the truth and lose face?
Caught off guard, Ignatius hesitated. He was well aware of Edmund’s temperament and knew he had to tread carefully.
With a forced laugh, he quickly deflected, “Just idle chatter among some fools, Edmund. You know how these things go. It’s best to just ignore them, right?”
Edmund clicked his tongue as he let go of Ignatius and said with a sharp scoff, “Those jealous vermin. They will do anything to sully my name. Ha…I do miss my good friend, Oberon. If only he was here, we could have together taught them all a lesson,” Edmund felt it quite a pity that Oberon wasn’t awake since he knew only with Oberon can they have the most fun and set things in order.
Edmund’s gaze flickered to Thaddaeus as he shifted uncomfortably, hesitating before he finally spoke, “Edmund…there was someone who didn’t hesitate to slander your name in public during your absence.”
Edmund’s eyebrows furrowed, his eyes narrowing dangerously, “Who?” His voice came out as a low growl, frosty and threatening.
Before Thaddaeus could respond, Zephyrine cut in. Her lilting voice contrasting the somber atmosphere, “An Umbralfiend, quite popular among his kind and endearingly called as General Vraxos by his people. He’s been boasting that he nearly broke your back and had you running away like a coward. I can’t believe he had the nerve to spout such nonsense when nobody even saw him fighting you other than his own people, as he claims.”
A vein bulged on Edmund’s forehead, his fists clenching, “This Vraxos…How dare he enjoy the protection of my House and have the audacity to slander me! To think a prisoner of war like him isn’t scared of sullying my and my House’s reputation.”
With a sharp wave of his hand, he gestured the trio to follow him, a dangerous glint in his red eyes, “I will show him what happens when you cross Edmund Thorne. We shall see if his tongue wags so freely when I stand before him.”
As he led the way, a chilling silence descended on the trio. They exchanged knowing glances, smiling to see that those scum Umbralfiends were in trouble for sure this time.
“Of course. Let’s make them remember who their Master is, hehe,” Zephyrine said with a giggle as her eyes glowed with a vicious light.
The next moment, they quickly fell into step behind him, leaving the courtyard echoing with the sound of their departing footsteps.
Inwardly, Edmund was determined to silence Vraxos somehow since only Vraxos knew he had massacred those villagers that night. Even if there was no proof and nobody would believe the words of an enemy, he still couldn’t let him roam free.
The arrival of Edmund Thorne and his company in the humble Naiadon Village was nothing short of thunderous.
The entourage of the powerful young lords and ladies, and a contingent of armed men added a somber and heavy atmosphere to the ordinarily peaceful and serene surroundings of the village.
Pushing through the crowds, the flustered Naiadon villagers respectfully greeted Edmund and his party, their voices trembling with both reverence and fear.
“Young Lord Edmund,” one brave villager ventured, bowing in a low hunch, “What brings you to our humble village today?” Since their chief had went to the town for an urgent matter, he felt the need to step up.
Without so much as a glance, Edmund pushed away the villager, his focus pinned ahead, his eyes scanning the vicinity as if searching for someone. A chilling wind swept through the village, carrying the murmurings of anxiety from the nervous villagers.
The playful laughter and chatter of the village were replaced by hushed whispers and tense silence. The Umbralfiends, who had been cooking food under the trees and sharpening their weapons, suddenly stood up, their relaxed expressions replaced with wary ones as they watched Edmund and his entourage advance. Their eyes darted to each other, communicating silent messages of apprehension.
But they knew they couldn’t disturb their king and queen since those two and most of their people were quite busy building an underwater home for them all.
So, there was only one person they could call upon to deal with this if necessary.
On the periphery of the village, the inhabitants watched the progression of the intimidating party with bated breath, their eyes wide and hearts pounding with trepidation.
With an air of arrogance and a flash of impatience in his red eyes, Edmund Thorne raised his voice, “Vraxos!” he bellowed, his voice echoing across the village like a discordant cry, stifling all movement and chatter, “Come out and face me if you dare instead of spreading lies in the dark like a coward.”
His words reverberated through the air, silence wrapping around the crowd like a dense fog.
After a few moments of intense silence, there was a rustle from the far end of the village, and then, as if commanded by some unspoken force, the crowd parted.
From the shadowy depths, a bald figure emerged.
Towering, impressive, and radiating a intimidating aura, Vraxos stepped into the sunlight, his blue armored scales reflecting the light and making him appear as if he’d just emerged from the depths of the ocean.
His turquoise eyes, deep and impenetrable, bore into Edmund’s, a silent challenge hanging in the air between them.
The crowd gasped collectively, their eyes darting between Edmund and Vraxos, their anticipation spiking to new heights.