«CHAPTER 31&32»
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Thailra stared at Kealric when, without warning, a violent flash of vision struck her mind.
She squeezed her eyes shut and lifted a trembling hand to her temple.
"I love you, Rosie."
The voice echoed thunderously within her thoughts.
Images assaulted her in rapid succession—too many to grasp, too vivid to ignore. A towering throne carved from dark stone.
A cauldron of charm, its contents simmering and spilling over the rim, an arrow dripping with blood.
Monks dressed in black garments, solemnly ringing a bell.
Two women chanting incantations as they circled the steaming pot in frantic rhythm, a tall man wearing a crown, seated upon the throne, his queen beside him.
A banner bearing a lion emblem, snapping sharply in the wind, heat flooded her body.
Beads of sweat formed along her forehead and traced down her temples.
Her vision blurred as she forced her eyes open again, her breathing unsteady, a sharp pain pulsing through her head.
Yet despite the dizziness, despite the pounding ache, she kept her gaze fixed on Kealric.
The noise of the arena faded further as the vision pressed against Thailra's consciousness like a living thing trying to speak through her.
The throne, the cauldron, the chanting shadows—all of it lingered at the edge of her mind, heavy and unresolved.
She inhaled slowly, once, twice.
Duncan abruptly closed his eyes as a memory washed over him.
Images assaulted him in rapid succession—too many to grasp, too vivid to ignore. A towering throne carved from dark stone.
A cauldron of charm, its contents simmering and spilling over the rim, an arrow dripping with blood.
Monks dressed in black garments, solemnly ringing a bell.
Two women chanting incantations as they circled the steaming pot in frantic rhythm, a tall man wearing a crown, seated upon the throne, his queen beside him.
A banner bearing a lion emblem, snapping sharply in the wind, heat flooded his body.
He rubbed his temple and slowly opened his eyes, then shifted his gaze to Thailra.
Her eyes were fixed on the labourer who had just declared that he would challenge the beast.
Duncan's gaze left her and settled on the young man, a sharp headache struck him, and at that very same moment, Thailra winced as well.
Simultaneously, they shut their eyes and clutched their pounding heads.
The entire audience noticed.
All attention turned toward them as whispers spread through the crowd. They wondered what was truly happening to the prince and his Moon.
A wave of whispers rippled through the royal stands like wind through dry leaves.
All eyes shifted from the arena to the throne.
At the upper tier, Princess Cassandra slowly stopped fanning herself. For once, her composure faltered.
"They moved at the same time," she murmured, her sharp gaze fixed on the throne platform. "As if struck by the same blade."
Beside her, Princess Helena leaned forward slightly, concern threading through her voice.
"I have never seen him react like that," Helena whispered. "Not in public. Not ever."
Princess Aurelia narrowed her eyes, studying both Duncan and Thailra carefully.
"And she did not look confused," Aurelia said quietly. "She looked… as if she recognized it."
Below them, Duncan Tharagon had already straightened, forcing his posture back into cold authority.
Beside him, Thailra Alvarez remained composed, though the faint pallor in her face had not gone unnoticed.
Lady Lady Semina did not rise. Her expression did not change.
But her eyes sharpened.
"Lower your voices," she instructed calmly.
Cassandra obeyed, though her gaze did not waver.
"It happened when the laborer stepped forward," Cassandra said softly. "The exact moment he declared himself."
Helena's eyes flicked toward Prince Kealric, who still stood in the arena below, unaware of the storm he might have stirred.
"You think he is connected?" Helena asked.
Aurelia's jaw tightened. "He is no ordinary laborer. That much is clear."
Lady Semina's fingers tapped once against the armrest — thoughtful, measured.
"In Ashkaroth," she said quietly, "power rarely reveals itself politely."
Cassandra's fan resumed its slow movement.
"But for both of them to react at once…" she pressed. "That cannot be coincidence."
Lady Semina's gaze lingered on the throne for a long moment before she replied.
"It may not be coincidence," she said. "But until the Eclipse chooses to speak of it, it does not exist."
Helena swallowed faintly. "And if it is weakness?"
Aurelia scoffed softly. "If it were weakness, the guards would already be clearing the arena."
The boar still roared.
Lady Semina leaned back slightly, her voice lowering.
"If something has stirred," she said, "it will reveal itself soon enough, and when it does… we will learn whether it is threat."
"Or prophecy." Her gaze darkened.
Sylara's gaze suddenly met Melissa's.
Without a word, both of their eyes shifted toward Prince Kealric and Arabella, whose heads remained respectfully bowed in the arena below.
After a brief moment, their gazes returned to one another.
Melissa's fingers tightened subtly against the fabric of her sleeves.
If the challengers' arrival had triggered such a reaction… then they were not random.
A slow, devilish smirk deepened at the corner of her lips as the thought settled firmly in her mind.
Sylara's hands, properly folded before her, trembled faintly.
She quickly looked away from Melissa, unease creeping into her chest as she wondered what the other maid was thinking now.
For the past three weeks, she had been serving the Moon directly. During that time, she had been exceedingly careful — cautious not to offend her, cautious not to make even the smallest mistake that might place her on the wrong side of her lady… or worse, draw the attention of her Eclipse.
The reason she had never carried out the task Melissa assigned to her was simple.
Fear.
The first attempt had failed.
And to Sylara, that failure had not been coincidence — it had felt like a warning. A silent sign from the gods themselves not to commit something so reckless.
She had no desire to test fate a second time.
Not when the price of foolishness in Ashkaroth was never gentle.
Prince Kealric's lips curled into a dark, almost invisible smirk, though his head remained respectfully bowed.
Arabella noticed the subtle shift in the air — the reactions of Thailra Alvarez and Duncan Tharagon.
Although her own head was lowered, she saw everything.
And the sight was not reassuring.
Why had Duncan reacted in the exact same manner as Thailra?
Could it be that if Thailra recovered the memories of Morazana, Duncan would also begin to see the fragments of those memories?
Perhaps their souls were bound in a way that allowed one consciousness to echo within the other.
Arabella's thoughts tightened like a knot in her chest.
Such a connection, if it truly existed, was far more dangerous than physical chains or political betrayal.
Soul bonds were not spoken of openly in Ashkaroth.
They were ancient matters — buried beneath the Eclipse traditions and guarded by silence.
If the Moon regained her memories, would the Demon Prince also inherit echoes of her past?
This was bad — definitely bad.
They had to return to Morazana and report the matter to their mother.
If Duncan Tharagon could truly glimpse fragments of Thailra Alvarez's memories, then their mission to reclaim her would be nearly futile.
Any hidden plan could easily be exposed.
Arabella's gaze shifted toward Prince Kealric, who appeared slightly distracted, as though lost in his own thoughts.
She exhaled softly.
This situation was far more dangerous than they had anticipated.
"Get the fight started," Duncan Tharagon declared.
His voice carried with it a wave of cold, controlled authority, like wind passing over frozen stone.
His piercing silver eyes remained fixed on Prince Kealric, Kealric finally lifted his gaze.
He stretched out his arms, interlaced his fingers with Arabella's in a formal gesture of respect, and both bowed properly toward the throne platform.
"And do not forget your promise, brave girl, the boar's head," Thailra Alvarez said.
Her voice was steady now, her breathing slowly returning to normal, she did not fully understand the visions she had just experienced.
Perhaps it was the cold air.
Perhaps her mind was simply unsettled.
Maybe she was imagining things.
"Yes, my lady," Arabella replied quietly, lowering her head once more in a respectful bow.
Then the iron chains around the wild boar clanged loudly as the guards released the final locking mechanism.
The beast did not move at first.
It lowered its massive head, breathing heavily, small furious eyes scanning the sand-covered field.
Then it charged.
Hooves thundered against stone and sand as the wild boar rushed forward with terrifying momentum, tusks aimed like curved spears.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
On the throne platform, Duncan Tharagon watched without blinking, beside him, Thailra Alvarez sat still, her fingers resting lightly on the arm of her throne.
Below, Prince Kealric did not rush.
He waited.
At the last possible moment, he stepped sharply to the side, the boar's massive body swept past him, dust exploding into the air.
Arabella moved instantly.
Drawing a short blade, she struck the beast's flank in a controlled, precise motion — not to kill, but to weaken, the boar roared in pain and fury, turning violently.
It charged again.
Kealric seized the opening.
Grabbing a fallen spear from the sand, he drove it hard toward the boar's shoulder where Arabella's earlier strike had opened a wound, he impact forced the beast to stagger.
The wild boar let out a furious, hoarse roar, blood darkening the sand beneath its hooves.
Its rage only deepened.
Pain did not weaken the beast — it sharpened its brutality. It lowered its head and charged again, faster this time, driven by instinct and wild desperation.
Dust and wind burst across the arena. Prince Kealric's breathing remained controlled. His eyes followed the beast's movement carefully.
Not fear. Observation. Timing.
At the last second, he rolled sideways with sharp precision as the boar's tusks swept past him.
Arabella moved again, striking the creature's other flank with measured force, creating another controlled wound.
The boar staggered, roaring in anger. On the throne platform, Duncan watched silently. His silver gaze was cold, analytical — not entertained, not disturbed.
Beside him, Thailra Alvarez felt a faint pressure inside her chest, though she did not know why.
The boar charged once more. Kealric waited. Breath slow. Body steady.
When the beast lunged, he struck downward with the spear, driving it into the creature's thick shoulder with calculated strength.
The boar stumbled, then, with one final violent roar, its movements began to slow.
The crowd leaned forward.
Silence held the palace field like a suspended breath. The outcome was approaching.
The battle in the arena had begun to shift.
What had started as a brutal contest was now revealing something unexpected.
At the upper royal tier, the princesses were watching with sharpened attention.
Princess Helena was the first to speak.
"For a mere laborer…" she murmured quietly, "…his movements are too trained."
Beside her, Princess Aurelia narrowed her eyes.
"The timing," Aurelia said coldly. "He is not fighting randomly. He is reading the beast."
Princess Cassandra slowly fanned herself again, though the movement was slower than before.
"That is not the stance of a village worker," Cassandra added. "That is battlefield discipline."
The three sisters fell silent for a moment.
Below them, the boar staggered under Kealric's calculated strikes.
Nearby, Lady Semina observed the scene without visible emotion.
After a long pause, she spoke softly.
"A laborer does not fight like a knight unless he has been shaped by war."
Her daughters turned slightly toward her.
"Ashkaroth does not fear strength," Lady Semina continued.
"We fear only strength that hides its origin." Her gaze lingered briefly on Prince Kealric, fighting below.
"For a man who worked filling wine jars a month ago," she said quietly, "his skill is… suspiciously refined."
Helena's fingers tightened slightly on the edge of her seat.
"Do you think he is trained?" she asked.
Lady Semina did not answer immediately, but her eyes darkened faintly.
"In this palace," she said at last, "nothing skilled enough to survive the storm is ever truly untrained."
The boar charged again despite its weakening body, driven by instinct rather than strength.
Dust and blood mixed in the air as Prince Kealric sidestepped smoothly, his movements measured and economical.
Arabella moved beside him, her breathing controlled.
The clash of steel and the beast's roar filled the arena.
"You are slower on your left side," Arabella said quietly, her voice barely audible over the battle noise.
Kealric did not look at her.
"I know."
His tone was calm, almost detached.
Another charge.
He stepped diagonally forward instead of backward — a tactical choice that surprised the beast's natural movement pattern.
The boar's tusk missed him by a narrow margin, Arabella struck again, cutting along the creature's wounded shoulder.
"Your stance," Kealric said softly while rotating the spear in his grip, "is too rigid. Relax your wrist when you strike."
Arabella's lips tightened slightly. "Teaching me in the middle of a fight?"
"You are fighting beside me," Kealric replied.
"Efficiency matters."
The boar roared, attempting another desperate charge, Kealric lowered his body posture further.
"When it turns," he said quietly, "strike the right flank. It will lose balance."
"How certain are you?" Arabella asked.
"Eighty percent," he answered, silence passed between them for a heartbeat.
Then the beast lunged.
Arabella moved first, striking exactly where Kealric predicted, the boar staggered violently.
Kealric drove the spear deep into the creature's exposed side.
Blood spilled across the sand.
The wild boar let out one final, hoarse roar before collapsing completely.
The wild boar's massive body trembled once on the golden sand.
Its breathing slowed, then, with a final, heavy exhale, the beast became still, the arena did not erupt in celebration immediately.
Silence settled like a living thing across the stone stands, prince Kealric slowly withdrew the spear from the beast's body and let it fall into the sand.
Arabella lowered her blade.
Their chests rose and fell in steady but controlled breaths, for a moment, neither spoke.
Then Arabella whispered, very quietly, almost incredulously:
"…It is dead."
Kealric did not answer immediately, he straightened slowly, brushing sand from his sleeve.
"Yes," he said at last.
The arena remained still.
On the throne platform, Duncan watched the fallen beast without expression, beside him, Thailra exhaled softly, though she did not realize she had been holding her breath.
At the royal tier, whispers began again.
Princess Cassandra spoke first.
"He killed it." she said with excitement.
Princess Helena added softly, "And he did not celebrate."
"People who truly know war rarely celebrate victory loudly."Princess Aurelia narrowed her eyes.
Lady Lady Semina's gaze remained fixed on the arena.
"The boar has been slain!"The announcer's voice soon echoed across the field.
"Present the victor before the throne!"
The wind moved across the palace field as Prince Kealric stepped forward slowly, sand clinging faintly to his boots.
Arabella followed one step behind him.
Thailra Alvarez's lips curved into a faint smile.
Indeed, the fight had been intense.
The scene reminded her of the battle where she had fought the men who attacked her father, and how Daniel had fought beside her.
Then her thoughts drifted to the Ice Prince whose face bore a striking resemblance to Daniel.
Her smile slowly faded.
Why did her heart not rejoice at meeting him again in this life?
She knew she had once loved him, yet she felt not even the slightest trace of emotion for him in this existence.
She shifted her gaze and finally looked toward Duncan Tharagon.
And there — she found the reason to smile.
Carlos Rodriguez was truly Duncan Tharagon — the famous Demon Prince of Ashkaroth.
He was her Eclipse.
The man destiny had given to her.
The one bound to her by fate to bring honor and stability to Ashkaroth.
Her thoughts drifted back to the first time they met in a New York high school. When she had accidentally bumped into him, he did not push her away.
Instead, he had simply told her to be careful.
Later, in the cafeteria, he had offered her a bottle of water and gently reminded her not to choke while drinking, accompanied by a quiet, soft smile.
Those memories stirred faint warmth inside her chest. She looked again toward Duncan on the throne platform.
And this time, the smile returned — small, quiet, and certain.
A single drop of tear slipped from Thailra Alvarez's eyes, tracing slowly down her cheek.
The emotion was quiet.
Unspoken.
Heavy.
At the same moment, a tear formed at the corner of Duncan Tharagon's eye — something so rare that the nearby guards instinctively lowered their gazes.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head toward her. His silver eyes met hers, she was smiling through her tears.
And he did not look away.
Thailra Alvarez smiled widely.
"I have a confession to make," she said softly, her voice carrying only for Duncan to hear, "but it will have to wait until after the entertainment, Mr. Eclipse."
At that, Prince Kealric's fist tightened slowly. Arabella released a quiet, almost tired breath.
Duncan's lips curved faintly into a knowing, almost indifferent smirk before he looked away, returning his attention to the arena and the victors below.
Thailra turned her gaze toward them as well and slowly rose from her seat. The movement was graceful, measured, and carried the quiet authority of the Moon.
For a brief moment, Duncan Tharagon glanced at her again.
Then he looked away.
"The beast is dead, yet you dare stand before me without fulfilling your promise, brave girl." Thailra Alvarez's voice was colder and deeper than the ocean itself.
"I want the beast's head placed at my feet. Only then will I acknowledge your victory and grant you the grand gift we promised." She paused briefly, her piercing gaze fixed on them.
"But I must say, for a mere laborers, your skill is quite impressive" Her eyes sharpened slightly.
"May I ask — from which town do you both come, and in which village do you reside? The aura surrounding you does not bear the bloodline of the people of Ashkaroth."
Arabella swallowed quietly.
Meanwhile, the lips of Duncan curled faintly upward as his piercing silver gaze remained especially fixed on Prince Kealric.
Prince Kealric fists slowly clenched.
Duncan tapped his finger slowly against the armrest of his throne chair.
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TBC