Chapter 52: An Outlet
Edward, who was momentarily stunned by her beautiful smile where she still had a faint glow in her body, only recovered when Cece subtly cleared her throat, well aware of the effect of her friend’s pure smile on people.
Edward cleared his throat, embarrassed for having let himself shamelessly stare at her, said in a steady voice, "Now, just take a deep breath and will your powers to settle inside you. With that, the faint glow will fade."
Eve obeyed, drawing in slow measured breaths, only for the faint glow to dim gradually, until it was gone.
"Very good, Your Highness," Edward said with an approving nod. "For the first couple of times, I would suggest you practice only in the presence of one of us, so that we can monitor your progress and step in if we sense anything wrong. Once you’ve mastered this, we can move on to the next step. But for now, we should stop here, as we don’t want to push you too much."
Eve rose to her feet, brushing a stray leaf from her skirt. "Alright, thank you so much Lord Edward, I appreciate all your efforts to help me."
A faint flush crept onto Edward’s face, though his tone remained formal. "Please don’t mention it, Your Highness. It is my duty to assist you, as you are a member of our kingdom’s royalty." He hesitated, shifting his weight slightly before adding, "If it isn’t too much...you’re welcome to address me simply as Edward." He dipped his head, glancing up through his lashes, unsure of how she’d respond.
Eve blinked in surprise, then her lips curved into a warm, genuine smile. "Alright, Edward, I’d be happy to, only if you address me as Evelyn."
His brows lifted, and he started, "Your Highness, how do I-"
"Well, Cece and Damien call me by my name because that’s what friends do," she said gently. "And aren’t we...friends now?"
Edward flattered for a heartbeat, clearly taken aback, but before he could form a reply, Cece said with a dry smile, "Lord Edward, are you planning to stand here mute all day?"
That broke his composure and a faint smile bloomed his handsome face, "Yes...we’re friends."
Evelyn’s eyes lit up and she beamed at him, "I look forward to more of your help, Edward."
"Likewise...Evelyn," he replied warmly. Then he turned to Cece, softening his expression, "Lady Cece, you can also address me just by my name. I’d like us to be friends as well, if you don’t mind."
Cece’s lips quirked in a sly smile. "Well, Edward, since you’ve given me permission, I suppose I’ll make use of it. But don’t expect me to go easy on you just because we’re friends." She crossed her arms lightly, but there was a playful glint in her eyes that softened the words.
Edward chuckled under his breath. "I wouldn’t dream of it."
That moment marked the beginning of a bond that, despite the trials ahead, seemed destined to last a lifetime.
....
In the dim, forgotten corner of Raven Street stood a small, weathered grey shop, far away from the bustling heart of the market. Its warped wooden sign creaked faintly in the wind and dust clung to its grimy windows.
Without warning, the door burst open, splintering under the force of men clad in combat gear with their faces hidden beneath black hoods barged in like a shadowy tide.
The cramped, dusty interior was lined with crooked shelves, each filled with glass bottles with strange liquid of different colours.
The shopkeeper, a fat man with greasy, unkempt white hair, a hunched back, and darting, bead-like eyes jerked in alarm at the sudden intrusion. "Who the hell are you?!" he barked, his voice as rough and unpleasant as the stench of the shop.
When he saw the hooded men coming closer to him, he turned to flee, but before he could take two steps, one of the hooded intruders slammed into him with brutal force. Two more seized him by the arms, pinning him in place as he struggled and cursed.
"What’s the meaning of this?!" he roared, thrashing against their iron grip. A tall man strode in, wrinkling his nose the moment the stench hit him. "Oh, lovely," he drawled. "Did something crawl in here and die."
The shopkeeper stilled the moment his beady red eyes fell on the figure who had just walked in. Dread started to crawl up his spine as he felt the dangerous aura radiating from the man.
Then, as if the air itself thickened when a second presence entered, his aura was dark and violent like a storm ready to unleash. His footsteps, sharp yet regal creaked softly against the worn out wooden floor.
He couldn’t see their faces, yet his entire being screamed a warning, that these two men were no ordinary visitors. His body began to tremble under the weight of their crushing aura as they drew closer to him.
One of the men, whose very presence felt more dangerous than anyone the shopkeeper had ever encountered, spoke quietly, "Alex."
The man named Alex, who had tackled him earlier, moved swiftly and pulled out a small glass bottle, holding it inches from the shopkeeper’s face and asked in a cold voice, "Did you sell this?"
The shopkeeper squinted his beady eyes, to observe the bottle for a second before realising it was one of the potions he had recently sold. He swallowed hard as panic twisted his gut. He realised if he admitted the truth, he’d rot in the dungeons for the rest of his life for selling a banned potion.
So he lied through his crooked teeth, "No! It wasn’t me! I’ve never seen this in my li-"
Whack!
A brutal blow smashed across his face, sending blood and two teeth flying to the floor.
One of the tall man standing said, "Careful with your words, old man, unless you’re eager to start gumming your meals for the rest of your life."
The shopkeeper spat out the blood pooling in his mouth and swallowed the pain as his knees buckled beneath him, "Please Sire, I didn’t do anything...I’m just a poor old shopkeeper, trying to scrape together enough for a decent meal each day."
The tall man’s gaze dropped to his pot belly and he tilted his head, "Yes...starving to death, I can tell." He cracked his knuckles together, the sound promising another lesson in pain.
Before he could come any closer, the shopkeeper blurted out, while shaking uncontrollably, "Pl-Please f-forgive me sire! I only sold on-one bottle a few days ago. I was only trying to make a little mo-money...as you can see, I don’t get too much bus-business."
Another dangerous man who stood still since he walked in, asked in a low yet commanding voice, "And who did you sell it to?"
"I-I don’t remember sire! The man’s face was covered with a mask." he lied again, thinking that if the other guy found out he had ratted him out, he’d surely come after him.
Ivan, who could sense people’s malicious intent, immediately detected the lie. He had been simmering in anger since the day Eve had been drugged and was itching to catch those responsible. On top of that, his last conversation with her had only soared his mood further. Now, having caught one of the filthy rats involved in her drugging incident, he saw the shopkeeper as an outlet for his maddening rage. So without another word he stepped forward and lifted the man by his neck with a single hand as if he weighed nothing, letting his feet dangle above the floor.
The shopkeeper’s eyes widened in shock at the sheer strength of this dangerous man. He tried using his meager vampiric strength to free himself, but it did little to nothing.
Others stepped away from their prince, knowing exactly what was about to happen next.
Damien, who was standing next to Ivan, clicked his tongue and said, "I did warn you, old man. Looks like you’re about to get a firsthand look at hell today." He shook his head with mock disappointment.
"Do you know what I do to liars?" Ivan asked, his voice low and menacing.
His molten red eyes watched the man tremble in fear and his lips curled up in a cruel smirk. "First...I pull out their tongue for wasting my time. Then...I skin them alive, slowly, savouring every scream," He tightened his grip on his neck and his voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "And just when they think death might come...it doesn’t. Death is far too easy for those who dare to deceive me. I pour salt over their raw flesh, leaving them to starve and rot in the darkness... and in the end, the hungry rats finish what I start, feasting on them...piece by piece."
Ivan’s every word, describing the horrors of his torture, send a bone-deep chill run down the spines of everyone in the shop, everyone except Damien and Alex, who stood unaffected. The shopkeeper who was trembling violently finally lost control of himself, wetting his pants as the weight of his impending fate pressed down. Stammering, he croaked, "Pl-Please...f-fo-forgive me,..I wi-will tell...y-you..everything.."
