Her beautiful, ocean-blue silk dress was shredded to ribbons, soaked in a dark, horrifying red. One of the monsters held her severed arm in its jaws, chewing on the bone before casually tossing it aside like a piece of discarded meat. Her torso had been ripped open with a brutality that defied comprehension, her ribs exposed to the cold night air blowing in from the shattered window.
Devin fell to his knees. The impact bruised the bone, but he didn't feel it.
A silent, agonizing scream tore at his vocal cords, but no sound came out. His sister. The woman who loved the ocean. The only person who looked at him without the heavy expectations of a crown. She was gone, reduced to a grotesque display of Cyprian cruelty.
Hearing his muffled gasp, the two beasts slowly turned their obsidian eyes toward him.
They dropped low to the ground, a wet, rattling snarl vibrating in their chests. Devin couldn't move. He didn't want to.
But before the beasts could leap, a massive explosion shook the palace. The sound was deafening, originating from the royal apex of the castle—the King's chambers.
The monsters paused, their heads snapping toward the sound. Duty to their dark masters overriding their immediate hunger, they bounded past Devin, leaping out of the shattered window into the night, scaling the exterior walls toward the upper floors.
Tears blinded Devin, mixing with the cold sweat on his face. He forced himself to his feet, his legs trembling so violently he could barely stand.
Father. Mother.
He stumbled out of Bridget's ruined chambers, forcing himself not to look back, and dashed toward the grand stairwell leading to the royal apex.
The heavy double doors of the King's quarters were completely off their hinges, thrown into the center of the room.
Inside, the chamber was a war zone.
King Arthur of Trangdar, the passionate ruler, the loving father, stood alone in the center of the carnage. He was bleeding profusely from a dozen grievous wounds. His golden ceremonial armor was rent and torn. But in his hands, he wielded the ancestral greatsword of their lineage, his eyes burning with a fierce, desperate light.
He was surrounded by four of the venom-infused abominations.
"Devin! Run!" Arthur bellowed, catching sight of his son frozen in the doorway. His voice was raw, ragged, and desperate.
"Father!" Devin cried out, forcing his legs to step forward.
But suddenly, the Holy Gene flared violently within his chest. It wasn't a surge of power or a miraculous shield. It was a wave of overwhelming, paralyzing dread that locked every muscle in his body. He was pinned to the spot, suffocating under the sheer, terrifying presence of the Cyprian venom.
A beast lunged at the King's blind spot.
With a roar, Arthur pivoted, swinging the massive greatsword with devastating force. The blade sheared cleanly through the monster's arm, sending the severed limb flying across the room.
But the beast didn't even flinch. It didn't scream.
Ignoring the stump spraying black blood, it lunged forward and drove its remaining bone-claw deep into King Arthur's thigh.
Arthur roared in agony, his leg buckling. With a final, defiant surge of strength, he brought the heavy steel hilt of his sword down on the creature's skull, shattering the bone and dropping it to the floor.
But the opening was all the remaining three beasts needed.
They descended upon the King like a pack of starving hyenas.
Devin watched, entirely helpless, entirely broken, as the King of Trangdar was overwhelmed.
They tore at his armor as if it were made of fragile parchment. They ripped at his flesh, their jagged claws separating his limbs from his torso with sickening, wet tears. Arthur didn't scream again. He just fought until his arms were gone. They tore him to pieces right before Devin's eyes, the King's final, gurgling breath choked with his own blood.
The heavy gold crown of Trangdar slipped from Arthur's severed head. It clattered against the stone floor, rolling methodically across the room until it came to a dead stop just inches from Devin's bare feet. It was smeared with the lifeblood of the greatest man he had ever known.
The monsters, satiated for the moment, ignored the paralyzed boy in the doorway. They grabbed the remains of the King, dragging his torn torso toward the balcony. Their dark masters likely demanded proof of the royal family's demise. They leapt into the night, leaving the room dead and silent.
Devin slowly crawled into the ruined chamber, his mind violently fracturing under the weight of the trauma.
"Mother..." he whispered into the void, his voice sounding incredibly small. "Eleanor."
He dragged himself across the blood-slicked floor toward their private adjoining chambers. He braced himself. He expected to find her body. He expected to see the brilliant medical anomaly, the profound sub-human Queen, lying in the same horrific state as his sister and father.
He pushed the door open.
The room was pristine.
Devin stopped. The bed was unmade, sheets slightly tangled, but there was no blood. There were no slashed curtains, no broken furniture. No signs of a struggle whatsoever.
He scrambled toward the far wall, where a heavy tapestry hid a secret escape hatch behind the vanity. He pulled the fabric aside and checked the iron locking mechanism.
It remained securely locked. From the inside.
Queen Eleanor was nowhere to be found.
Devin collapsed against the vanity. It made absolutely no sense. Had the Cyprians taken her alive? If so, why leave no trace of a struggle? Had she somehow anticipated the attack and fled without warning them?
The questions swirled in his shattered mind, an agonizing puzzle with missing pieces, as the sounds of his burning kingdom echoed loudly in the distance.
He knelt alone amidst the ruins of his life. The blood of his father and sister coated the stones, seeping into the knees of his trousers.
Deep within his chest, the Holy Gene flared once more. It burned hot and violent, threatening to tear him apart from the inside. But this time, the profound power humming through his veins was not fueled by faith in God.
It was fueled by an absolute, consuming hatred.