Heir of the Underground

Chapter 11: Aurelia

The air stunk of the metallic tang of blood. Fresh blood. But in the darkness of the room—of wherever Aurelia was—she couldn't tell where the smell was coming from. Or who it was coming from.

A strange cry rang out from somewhere, seemingly behind her. It sounded infantile, like the shriek of a newborn baby, and it was accompanied by the weak, whimpering shushes of a woman.

Suddenly, there was a burst of light. Aurelia turned her head and traced the source back to an older-looking gentleman who stood in the doorway with a torch in his hand. He had graying brown hair and hardened hazel eyes. A large golden crown rest upon his head, making him seem familiar, though Aurelia couldn't seem to put a name to his face.

The man walked farther into the room, moving right past Aurelia as if she wasn't even there. As he entered, several more people followed after him—palace guards, wearing the Rheolaeth emblem.

Each guard had a torch of their own, and as they filed in after their leader, the entire room was illuminated, bathing the prior occupants of the room in bright, revealing light.

It was a redhaired woman—a Fey—with golden eyes, golden wings and parchment-like skin. But she looked worn out and perspired, and she was sitting on the ground with a puddle of blood pooling around her. And in her arms, she cradled a small, premature, charcoal-haired baby.

She was shushing it and bouncing it lightly; and it seemed to be working. The baby was no longer crying, and instead, stared up at its mother with large, violet eyes. But as it stared at her, she became overcome with tears. And her shushing quickly morphed into gentle sobs.

She knew that something was coming.

Something was changing. In fact, the atmosphere of the room itself was changing, like when Kassius had manifested in that hallway in Keddeirin.

The man in the crown—what Aurelia could only assume to be the High King, likely High King Fenric—approached the woman. He oozed power. Quite literally. It seemed that he was seeping shadows. They were swirling all around him.

They moved faster and faster, twirling around the king so quickly that they made him look blurry. And when the wild spinning finally stopped, the king looked different. His eyes were... black, and his teeth were sharp, like a wolf, and the veins in his hands and neck looked like trails of ink.

The baby's mother released a horrified gasp at the sight, at the menacing appearance of the king, one that Aurelia mirrored, though no one seemed to hear. The red-haired woman watched, mortified, as the king approached, his footsteps heavy and booming, their sound bouncing against the stone walls.

Her tears became torrential, but no one in the room seemed to care. They just stood to the side, watching blankly as the king bent down and ripped the baby from her arms, forcefully. She reached out for her child, but her arms fell to her sides, weak with exhaustion.

He turned around, still holding the strange baby in his arms. And as he stared at the child, his eyes grew wide with glee and a devious smile overtook his face.

Then, he promptly left the room without a word. And the guards followed after him, just as before, leaving the poor, bleeding mother to cry alone on the cold stone floor.

It seemed that she was fighting for her life. And she did fight, for a few minutes, at most. Aurelia stayed and watched the whole thing. She wanted to reach out, to hold the woman's hand and soothe her, but she knew that it would do no good.