Blessing Moon

Thirty-Seven: Escape

Dìl Dìon opened the door and threw the prince into the king's study. Hugging his throbbing arm to his chest Oslac stumbled to catch his balance. Not wanting to give the shadow possessed guard the satisfaction, he straightened up, stood as tall as he could and faced the king's desk where his father sat, writing.

"You wish to see me?" Oslac addressed the man through gritted teeth. It felt like he was speaking to a stranger, for everything he had witnessed from him within the last few days had been nothing like the man who raised him. The king looked up and stared deep into his soul. Swirling dark smoke filled his eyes. The sight squeezed at Oslac's heart and twisted at his stomach. He, of course, suspected that the darkness had reached him too, but part of him hoped that that wasn't the case. That part being his naive inner child, the part of him that still remembered the warm man that would chase Noir-Astra from under his bed at night.

"No!" He approached the desk, he couldn't give up on that memory, no matter how deep that darkness embedded itself in his father's gaze, he still had to be there. "Father! Please, look for the light, it's still there! You must fight! Fight against Noir-Astra! Fight against the darkness!"

The king got up from his seat, and with a cold smile creeping across his face, he squared up to his son.

"I am the darkness!" he said then let out a humourless laugh.

"No!" Oslac grabbed his father's shoulder with the hand he could still move, squeezing him as hard as he could manage. "You're stronger than this! Fight it! You can do this! You're my father! You're the king!"

"Don't touch me!" The king threw him off, making him fall onto the desk. He let out a guttural cry as he landed on his broken arm. A white light flashed as he made contact with the àrdurum wood. He looked for what could've made such a spark, and there sitting beside the king's maps and notes was a small shard of glass. In flustered movement, he fished out a similar sized shard that he forgot was still on his person until this moment. He lay it beside the piece on the desk, and they shone ever brighter once they were together again. He glanced up towards the king, a dangerous glower framing his fire filled stare.

"What have you done to him?" Oslac seethed.

The king let out a dark laugh, which only fuelled Oslac's anger.

"Where is my father? Tell me, Genelle!"

"Now you are a clever boy, aren't you?" Genelle Fiosolim's voice came out of the man's mouth. She then sent the shadows around her and the king shrank down and his strong facial features melted away and moulded into Genelle's mousey face. "He is gone."

She grabbed Oslac's broken wrist making him cry out in pain.

"I am the king now!" she hissed through a cruel smirk.

"H-how?"

"Your father is not as strong as you think, Prince, I managed to get to him as quick as that!" She let go of the prince and snapped her fingers to indicate a beat, then laughed at the fear that took over Oslac's face. "Your mother, though," Genelle said, whilst picking up a delicate tiara from a shelf. "Now she proved to be more of a fighter."

"Mother?" Oslac took in the sight of his mother's tiara and the outrage he felt from seeing it in her hands banished all fear. "If you've touched one hair on her head..."

His threat was interrupted by a wicked laugh as smoke began to fill the room. It crept into Oslac's throat making him cough and retch, then with a bang, a cupboard door flew open. Inside, Oslac saw a shadow of a face, a face he knew so well. He dared not take a closer look, every fibre of his being fought against him as he took a step forward, but he had to be sure.