Chapter 2: The Verdict of Blood
The cold air of Aizeken grazed my skin as I followed Princess Aida from the dark dungeon into the gleaming corridors of the palace. The chains binding my wrists grew heavier with each step, mirroring the weight of my uncertain fate. The scent of ancient stone, mingled with a strange metallic tang of blood and iron, hung in the air, tightening the knot of unease in my chest.
Ahead of me, Aida's silver hair, meticulously braided, swayed with her swift strides. Beneath her resolute demeanor, I sensed her own hesitation—a princess bound, like me, by the rigid traditions of her kingdom.
"You're lucky, human," she said, her voice cold but laced with regret as we traversed a corridor adorned with carvings of ancient rituals and obsidian walls glinting under torchlight. "By Aizeken's laws, foreigners are executed on sight. Yet you've been given a chance to live."
A bitter smile twisted my lips, anger flaring. "Lucky? I'm chained like a prisoner and told I must marry a stranger. How is that not misfortune?"
Aida halted, her shoulders stiffening, and turned to face me. Her crimson eyes blazed with anger, but beneath it, I glimpsed a flicker of pain I hadn't expected. "Are you saying it's misfortune to be wed to me?" she retorted, her voice sharp as a dagger.
"I am the second princess of Aizeken, and you're just an ordinary human. I have duties to my people, and my father, the king, insists this marriage proceed.
For your information, the ministers and generals? They'd have you hanged already, but none can defy the king's will."
Her words struck like a blow, but the notion of this marriage—a sacred vow forced by tradition—ignited my frustration further. "If it's against your will, why comply?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady despite the anger threatening to erupt.
"Fight for your freedom, Aida. Tell the king to cancel this marriage."
Aida's face flushed, her eyes flashing with resentment. "What? You act as if marrying me is some great offense! Do you know how many suitors—noble, admired—vie for a princess like me across the kingdoms? Do you find me so repulsive that you'd reject me so brazenly?"
Her outburst caught me off guard, and for a moment, I couldn't help but notice her beauty—her porcelain skin, her piercing red eyes like stars in the night, her silver hair like spun moonlight. But I quickly dismissed the thought. "It's not that I find you unattractive," I said, my voice low but firm.
"You're beautiful, Princess, no question. But to me, marriage is for those who love each other. It shouldn't be forced by a mark or tradition."
Aida sighed, the anger in her face giving way to exhaustion and resignation. "I understand what you mean, human," she whispered, her gaze dropping to the floor.
"But I have no choice. As a princess, my duty is to obey, even if it betrays my heart. The mark on your shoulder… it's the will of my blood. I cannot change it."
Her words pressed heavily on my chest. We were both victims of this situation, yet the lack of freedom—the absence of choice—fueled my anger, not at her, but at the world dictating our fates.
---
The court's great hall was a cavern of shadows, its walls adorned with tapestries of war and statues of ancient vampires, their eyes seeming to follow my every move. Ministers and generals lined the sides, their gazes sharp with contempt and hostility.
I felt their desire to see me dead, each stare like a dagger piercing my skin. My heart raced, and though I tried to project courage, fear gnawed at my resolve.
The guards forced me to my knees on the cold marble floor, its chill biting into my skin. At the hall's far end stood two golden thrones, and moments later, a grand door swung open. The king and queen of Aizeken entered, their presence like a storm commanding submission from all.
"All hail our revered king and queen!" a voice proclaimed.
The king was tall, his silver hair tied back, his red eyes radiating authority like a fire ready to consume all in its path. Beside him, the queen shared Aida's beauty but carried a gentle warmth in her expression—a calming grace amid the tension. They took their seats, and a heavy silence fell, as if the hall held its breath for judgment.
"Do you know why you're here, young man?" the king asked, his deep voice resonating through the hall's stone walls.
I shook my head, unable to respond. Anger, fear, and confusion churned within me, leaving me at a loss for words that wouldn't worsen my plight.
A soldier approached, carrying my sword—the heirloom from my father, a weapon I'd never wielded in true battle. He presented it to the king, who studied it with a mix of awe and suspicion. "Where did you get this blade?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "I'm astonished it's in the hands of someone like you."
"It's mine," I replied, striving to keep my voice steady. "My father passed it to me as an heirloom. I didn't steal it from anyone."
The king smiled, but his smile was tinged with skepticism. "I doubt you can wield it properly," he said, his tone challenging.
"I've never tested it in combat," I admitted, the truth being I had no idea how to use the sword. "But I know it's mine, given by my father."
The king's eyes widened, a spark of recognition igniting. "Are you the son of Azure, the hero of the Black Magic Era?"
His question caught me off guard. The name Azure was familiar, but it wasn't my father's. "You mean my grandfather," I said. "His name was Datu Kalantiao, and my father was Zeraphi. But people called them both Azure."
The king laughed, a booming sound that echoed through the hall. "That explains it! This sword belongs only to chosen heroes. And since it's yours, you are the new Azure."
I smirked, but it was laced with bitterness. "I'm not interested in changing my name or becoming a hero like my grandfather or father."
The king's smile faded, his brow furrowing in surprise. "Why refuse to be a hero? Being Azure is an honor. You'd be revered, praised by beings across the world."
"Because of that sword, I overruled the ministers who demanded your execution," he added. "Azure is a hero to all—fighting the void, saving those in need. This sword proves your destiny."
I sighed, my anger flaring anew. "I see nothing noble in being a hero. My grandfather and father sacrificed their lives for others. But what did they gain? They abandoned their families for the praise of strangers."
I couldn't hold back, the words spilling out despite the danger. "What's so great about being a hero? My grandfather left my father as a child, appearing once a year at most, too busy with battles. And my father? He did the same to me, returning only to train me in combat before leaving to 'help' others. My grandmother died without my grandfather by her side."
"My mother died of illness, and my father was absent, saving someone else! What kind of noble man abandons his suffering wife? They chose the world over their families. Tell me, should I admire men like that? I despise the idea of heroism."
The hall fell silent, the ministers' and generals' stares heavy with shock and disdain. But the king, instead of anger, offered a smile—one of understanding that only fueled my frustration. "So you're angry because your grandfather and father left you?" he asked, as if my pain were a trivial matter.
"You don't understand!" I shouted, my anger erupting. "You don't know what it's like to be abandoned by parents who act like they don't care! I'm furious at them, at their heroism. I won't accept the duty they've thrust upon me."
The weight of my words hung in the air, and for the first time, I saw the king's expression shift. His smile vanished, replaced by a look of sympathy. "I understand your pain, young man," he said.
"But let me tell you, your grandfather, Datu Kalantiao, loved your grandmother deeply. I fought alongside them during the war, nearly eighty years ago. I witnessed their profound love amid the harshest trials."
I shook my head, unable to believe him. "If he loved her, why did he leave her? She died without him there."
The king fell silent for a moment before saying that being a hero wasn't easy, that their responsibilities demanded sacrifices, even their own happiness. "I don't understand, and I don't want to," I retorted. "To me, it's clear—they neglected their loved ones."
The king sighed, conceding that the past was beyond our control, even for a hero with a sword like Azure's. He shifted the conversation, declaring the marriage must take place before the next full moon.
I protested immediately, pleading with the king to reconsider. "You know your daughter doesn't want to marry a human. She gains nothing from me. Please, Your Majesty, change your decision. Let me go, and I swear you'll never see me in your kingdom again."
"You're right; it's unusual for a Vladimir noble to wed a human," he replied. "But Aida made that mistake, and she must bear the responsibility for her actions."
"That's not fair to either of us!" I countered. "Marriage shouldn't be forced. It's sacred, meant for those who love each other."
The king laughed again, but this time it was laced with mockery. "I care little for your beliefs about marriage. But we have traditions to uphold, and the mark on your shoulder—the Vladimir symbol—proves you're chosen as my daughter's mate. The wedding ritual will proceed, whether you like it or not. Refuse, and death awaits you."
His aura enveloped the hall, asserting his power, and I knew I couldn't challenge him. Fear gripped me, but a burning question raged within: Was it right to simply submit to their will?
Before I could respond, the hall's doors burst open, and a group of soldiers rushed in, their faces etched with panic. "Your Majesty!" one cried. "Voids are attacking the outskirts of the city! Three colossal beasts—fifty meters tall, with skin like steel!"
The hall erupted in chaos. "Nothing can harm them!" the soldier added. "We're struggling to hold them back!"
"They've breached the outer wall, allowing countless monsters to flood in!" another shouted.
The king leaped to his feet, barking orders. "Act swiftly! Don't let them reach the city! Evacuate our people to safety!"
The king and generals rushed out to aid the soldiers, leaving Aida, me, and a few guards in the hall. The tension shifted to a new kind of fear. "It's been four years since a colossal void last attacked," Aida said, her voice thick with worry.
"Why are they returning now?"
"It's no coincidence," I said, my voice low but steady. "Colossal voids are born of black magic. Someone—or something—created them to bring you down."
Aida tore her gown, revealing a pair of swords hidden at her waist. "Where are you going?" I asked, though I knew the answer.
"As a princess, I won't let monsters destroy my city," she declared, her voice brimming with courage and resolve.
I shook my head. "Even if you go, you can't help. Nothing can pierce the armor of a colossal void shielded by black magic."
She didn't listen. She ran out, her steps swift and unwavering. I sighed. "You're just throwing your life away," I muttered, but my heart quickened.
Still kneeling, I sensed a presence approach—the queen. She held my sword, her eyes soft yet filled with concern. "Forgive us, young lord, for the trouble we've caused you," she said, her voice like a soothing melody. "I heard your story. I understand why you resist, but we're bound by our traditions."
She took my hand, her warm touch offering unexpected comfort Ascending comfort.
"Do you believe in fate?" she asked. "Many things in this world defy explanation. What's happening is part of a greater plan, for grand purposes yet to come."
Her words puzzled me, but her beauty—her gentle smile, her soft voice—reminded me of my mother. The pain of her loss surged back, and I blurted, "Mother…" I stopped, startled by my own words.
In the queen's eyes, I saw a mother's worry for her child, just as my mother once worried for me. "My family's safety, especially my daughter Aida's, means everything to me," she said, handing me my sword.
She bowed—a gesture that stunned me. "Only your sword can save her. I beg you, young lord, will you grant my request to protect my daughter?"
I couldn't respond immediately. The weight of her words, her desperation, pulled me back to memories of my mother—her smiles, her care. I knew the queen loved Aida deeply, and despite my fear and hesitation, I couldn't refuse her plea.
I stood, taking the sword, feeling its weight—not just physical, but the burden of my father's and grandfather's legacy. "I promise," I said, my voice steady despite my inner turmoil. "I'll ensure your daughter's safety, Your Majesty. You have my word."
She answered with a tender smile, gratitude radiating from her, as if I were standing before my own mother, filled with hope. My heart swelled with an unfamiliar warmth.
I ran out, following the soldiers, sword in hand, driven by a newfound determination to save a life.