From this moment forward your fate will be written in stone-an inescapable tragedy, at the feet of the Varethian Lord.
Scarlet blood catches the light from the dim oil lamps hanging in iron restraints on the castle walls. My very own warmth runs down my arms, the chains slick with failure.
Polluting my mind is the insatiable desire for violence. Just the thoughts of his vermillion ichor painting my entire body sends a wave of pleasure through me . One day it won't just be a dream. I will clasp his head by the scorched locks buried beneath that crown. A crown made by the people he deemed unfit.
I open my mouth without a second thought. "I-ii swear, I'll be the last thing you ever see. My hands will plunge into your heart, ripping it out, only to find nothing but an organ devoid of compassion or mercy-pulsing with nothing but greed, envy, and rot."
The king spits. "Your lifeless corpse will be used as an example of happens to you brain-dead dullards."
"My kingdom will endure the harshest of winters and come crawling to me."
My lungs, now collapsing as I force out one last thought. "You bastard!"
The king smiles wider, like the gaping cuts on my wrists. "I'll have millions under my heel. With no outside eyes watching they'll all kneel beneath me; a devoted battalion of men who obey, along with countless women and children all for my pleasure."
His merciless black eyes twitch with power.
A dull crack echoes through the chamber as my body hits the stone. Passion seeps beneath me, the weight of failure draining my life away. The man I swore to kill stands above me still alive and triumphant. While I fade into the silence unable to do what I promised him.