Chapter 112 Forest of Blood
The night had barely begun. At the dusk of the darkest hour, a man calmly walked into the castles and mansions that each Alpha and Vampire Head resided in. The ones that agreed for Ophelia's body to be shared. Ophelia had murdered every man present that day. Killorn intended to finish off the ones that weren't.
When Killorn stalked into his first victim's bedroom, he did so with stealth and precision. He had walked these grounds enough times to know where everything was. He remembered the pungent smell of the men in the war councils. He recalled what irked them, what frightened them, and it was none other than the man himself.
"What is the meaning of this?!" the Alpha roared, jutting his finger out in disbelief. From beside him, a naked woman screamed and fled for her life. When she made it outside, a man was already waiting for her. Beetle. Before she could yell for long, Beetle sliced her neck wide open. She plopped to the ground, as Killorn drew his sword.
"A woman for my woman," Killorn somberly announced, stalking towards the werewolf, but everyone knew she was just a mistress. Cheating bastard.
"You think you can win against me?" the Alpha shouted, yanking off his robes. He readied himself into a position to shift, but Killorn didn't hesitate.
Killorn was on a warpath. He'd rather have war than be a slave in peace. He drew his weapon just as the man lunged. A dodge. And a thrust. Killorn drove the sword through the feeble man's chest, sending the half-transformed beast falling to the ground whimpering in disbelief.
Killorn didn't stop there. Rage overtook his entire vision. A deep urgency of massacre dug out from his chest. He stabbed the Alpha over and over until the heart was nothing, but cut-up pieces of meat.
When Killorn was done with his first victim, he straightened up like nothing happened. He grabbed Beetle by the shoulder and the two strolled down the silent hallways.
"Where next, Alpha?" Beetle murmured.
"When morning breaks," Killorn coldly said. "I expect there to be a war."
- - - - - "Both you and your wife committed a massacre last night!" Everest demanded, running into Killorn's office without a second thought. He slammed the paper onto the cleared desk. Everest eyes trembled at the sight of the empty study that was once littered with alcohol bottles, books, and war council reports. Nothing disturbed him more than the man covered with stained blood.
The sun had barely tipped through the sky. When morning came, the maids would've discovered the dead bodies—if, they could even identify the man by their fatally sliced bodies.
The blood drained from Everest's face. He remembered what happened last night. The vampire community was in an uproar, but a few dared to speak out. There were too many casualties on either side.
"How many?" Everest repeated. "How many families did you ambush in the middle of the night?"
"Every man that was present to attack my wife," Killorn effortlessly responded.
Everest paled. He gripped the desk for stability, nearly fainting from all of the paperwork and discussions he'd be put through.
"This is madness!" Everest shouted, his tone too reprimanding. "I could try to tolerate what Ophelia did yesterday, but you?! Do you realize what you've done? Do you even—"
"If anyone has a problem, they can answer to me."
Everest's eyes bulged. As if anyone would want to see the werewolf that murdered his kind in cold blood. He racked his brain to say something, anything! He couldn't fathom the idea of Killorn leaving behind this messy of a trial. The Forest of Blood wasn't just a rumor. Everest knew it was the truth. He was there to witness it. "The King believes you've committed treason," Everest gritted out. "This is madness. You're going to spark a civil war and—"
"They plotted to attack my wife, suck her blood, and feast upon her flesh," Killorn snarled, his eyes flashing with gold. "You expect me to sit around and do nothing?"
Everest grew silent. His heart pounded in his chest, his ears burning hot. He, too, was enraged by the abrupt ambush. What the hell happened? Why did they all gather together at once to take from Ophelia?
"You should ready the pups and bats for succession," Killorn icily responded.
Everest flinched at the idea. "Don't resign yet," Everest gritted out, pointing to the letter of resignation he woke up to. He couldn't believe his eyes. "I'll get to the bottom of this. I'll figure out what provoked them—"
"Those men are dead, alongside their families." Killorn was eerily calm. "Dead men tell no tales."
Everest exhaled sharply. It wasn't like the royal family was in charge of the attack! They were also blind-sighted when one of their own blew the monster invasion horn upon seeing a hoard in the far distance. When everyone went to prepare for the fight, they saw the hoard had suddenly changed directions. As if controlled or lured by a mysterious force, all of the creatures headed for the forest.
"There are still hundreds of monsters to be exterminated," Everest reasoned. "You saw the hoard yesterday. We need you at the castle."
Killorn silently sat upon his black desk. He said nothing during the entire rant. His brows twisted together, his eyes flickering red with hatred, and his expression murderous. "These monsters are breeding as we speak, and they've intensified," Everest stressed. "You can't pull out of this now—"
"I've trained and left behind plenty of skilled warriors." Killorn rose to his feet. Ophelia should be awake now. "Yes, but you still need to train more," Everest spluttered, unable to contain himself. If Killorn left, he'd take Ophelia with him. He swallowed and stood his ground, changing his frantic voice to that of solemn.
"Ophelia is a magician, isn't she?" Everest suddenly said.
Killorn still. He slowly turned to the Prince. Just for that comment, he nearly struck a sword through the vampire's heart. The perfect declaration of war. "And that concerns you how?" Killorn had a sharp brow. "What?" Everest gasped out. Killorn's calm voice swept a shiver from Everest who paused and blinked. He revealed a cruel, cunning smile that revealed his teeth, resembling a ferocious wolf.
"Magicians are property of royalty!" Everest argued. "We provide them shelter and food in exchange for their aid. We keep them from the nation's exploitation and—"
"So you can exploit them yourself."
"You've crossed a line," Everest warned, his friendly expression dropping. He gritted his teeth and approached the werewolf. They stood head to head, of the same height and stature. "Magicians can't leave the capital," Everest declared. "You won't be able to take her."
Killorn let out a curt laugh. Everest recoiled, almost in disgust. The cold sound echoed in the empty room, icicles growing from the ceiling.
"And who's going to stop me?" Killorn returned.
Everest narrowed his eyes. "Me."
Killorn's lips curled. He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, and highly humored. He scrutinized the Prince with the tilt of his head, his chest rumbling with suppressed humor. Now, there was a good reason to kill Everest.
"Tell me," Killorn mused. "Did you remove Ophelia's stutter?"
Everest paused. He held his breath. Did she tell him? He was certain the girl wasn't that foolish. He pressed his lips together. There was no harm in telling Killorn the truth. The only question was, could the man handle it?
"She did," Everest readily said. "And I bet she enjoyed—"
Killorn yanked Everest by his collar. He twisted the man close, his eyes on fire, the veins on his arms pulsating with rage. "Congratulations, Prince," Killorn spat out the title. "You've just declared war."
Everest's eyes grew wide, his pupils shaking with disbelief. He gripped Killorn's wrists tightly, not believing his ears. This boy, the audacity! He let out a frustrated growl.
"You're crazy!" Everest barked. "The very thing you're trying to prevent and you dare to declare it, you—"
"There will be no war."
Both men snapped to the doorway. There she stood, resembling the goddess herself. Her hair whiter than ever, her purple eyes glistening like gemstones, she remained by the entrance. Her white gown hung from her thin shoulders, loose and flowy, but cinched with gold threads. She quietly entered the room, her footsteps making no noise. The muslin material crept upon the carpeted floors, each step more elegant than the next.
"Ophelia, you're never up this early." Killorn released Everest to catch a hold of his bizarre wife. When he approached, she held up a palm, halting him seconds before he embraced her.
"Blood shall not spill." Ophelia glanced up at her husband, her face as indifferent as the men who attempted to assault her. She looked over his shoulders to see a shaking Everest. The man was a second away from snapping. When their eyes met, he almost looked pleadingly upon her.
Ophelia lowered her hand, resting it in front of her stomach. Their attention followed every inch of her move. Both men watched her as close as hawks circling their prey before swooping for the kill.
"Do you hear me?" Ophelia emphasized, her voice never once rising, but she commanded the attention of two powerful men at ease. "Ophelia, surely you do not plan to let them off?" Killorn demanded. "For what they've done to my wife—"
"I've already bathed in their blood and guts. Is that not enough?"
Killorn pressed his lips together. He reached for his wife's waist, clutching it tightly, and bringing her close. All the times they did it. All the endless nights. Not a single child in her womb. He wondered if somewhere in that pool of blood, was the life force she employed. It must not be. He was certain she had bled once a month since their marriage.
"Is that your wish?" Killorn murmured, lowering his head. He never had difficulty understanding her stutter, but he always wanted to be closer to her. To hold her. To touch her. To love her more than life itself.
"Yes." Ophelia knew war would do no one any good. Humans ripping each other apart, caught in the battles between creatures twice their size and double their strength. Humans would suffer. Unnecessary blood didn't need to spill. She was certain she had rid the council of greed and corruption. Now, there should be no one coming after her.
Ophelia wished the world worked that way. She glanced at her feet, where her white gown was already darkening. The earth was dirty. She wondered if there would really be a day that it was clean. Her palms burned. So long as she was alive, so long as her blood fueled the vampire's thirst, and her flesh tempted werewolves, there was nothing she could do.
Killorn sharply exhaled. "Then I am afraid it's too late. I've already killed for you. By now, word would have traveled of what we've done." Ophelia stared up at him. She said nothing. She simply glanced at his stained clothes, the single dot of blood on his face that he had missed. She licked her thumb, wiped it upon his cheek, and tried to hide the impossible evidence.
If a war was to come, Ophelia wondered who'd be the first to die. It wouldn't be her, she was the prize.
It would be the life of an innocent human.
"Then you have both disappointed me," Ophelia said without shame. "Good day."
Ophelia didn't wait for the men to respond. She gathered her skirts and walked out of the room, heading straight for the waiting carriage downstairs. She had an inkling suspicion of where the carriage would take her—especially if Janette was going to accompany her.
They were heading for the Mavez Dukedom. "I'll do everything in my power!" Everest shouted from the end of the hallways.
Ophelia didn't even glance over her shoulders. She continued her exit until nothing was left, but a memory of her figure. - - - - -
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