Chapter 20 Wanted Dead Twice
Darius stood motionless in the tunnel, the royal execution order trembling slightly in his clawed grip. The king’s signature stared back at him like a mocking grin.
Rhen read over his shoulder, his dry humor completely gone. “They really planned this. Two days before the battle. They already decided you were dead.”
Darius’s glowing sockets burned brighter as he continued reading. The document didn’t just order his death. It painted him as the traitor who had led his own men into a massacre. It claimed he had conspired with enemy forces. And at the bottom, in cold formal language, it praised the “necessary cleansing of his bloodline” to prevent future rebellion.
“My bloodline…” Darius whispered. The words tasted like ash. “They didn’t just kill me. They erased me. They murdered Elyra and called it cleansing.”
The scarred smuggler who had dropped the document backed away slowly. “We didn’t know it was about you, I swear. We just stole it hoping for a bounty.”
Darius ignored him. He crushed the parchment in his fist until it tore. “They took everything. My honor. My wife. My future. And then they rewrote history so no one would ever remember the man who served them loyally for years.”
Rhen placed a hand on his arm. “Commander…”
“No,” Darius cut him off, voice cold and sharp. “There is nothing left to discuss. The Holy Crown doesn’t deserve mercy. They don’t deserve survival. I will tear their golden palaces down stone by stone and make their king choke on the lies he wrote.”
He turned and strode back toward the throne room, black mist pouring off him in thick, angry waves. The newly raised undead in the halls stepped aside instantly, sensing their master’s fury. Vael fell in beside him without a word, his massive presence like a silent promise of violence.
In the grand hall, Darius climbed the dais and sat upon the black throne. The ancient seat amplified his rage, feeding it back to him tenfold. The voices of past rulers whispered approval.
\[“Destroy them.”\]
\[“Make them suffer as we suffered.”\]
Darius leaned back, claws digging into the stone arms of the throne. “Begin preparations. We expand the Domain. We raise more thralls. And when the time comes, we march on Valtheris.”
Rhen watched him from the bottom of the steps, concern etched on his face. “This path… it’s consuming you faster now.”
“Good,” Darius replied without hesitation. “Let it consume me. The man they betrayed is already dead. Only the Hollow King remains.”
\~~~~
Far away in the shining capital of Valtheris, High Priestess Seraphine Veyl stood in the war room of the Radiant Veil Citadel. Maps of the frontier covered the long table. Brother Aldric and three senior inquisitors surrounded her.
“This Hollow Commander is becoming more than a minor threat,” one inquisitor said, sliding a report across the table. “He has claimed territory in the western mountains. Survivors speak of an underground fortress. He raises the dead with purpose and commands them with intelligence.”
Seraphine picked up the report, her silver eyes scanning the lines. “He intervened in a purge. Saved villagers only to terrify them. He is playing with fear like a weapon.”
Aldric nodded. “Exactly. Most undead are mindless. This one remembers. He speaks. And his power is growing.”
Another inquisitor unrolled a fresh document. “We have confirmed his identity. Darius Voss. The traitor commander from the last major battle. The king himself signed his execution order. We believed him dead and buried.”
Seraphine felt that strange ache return in her chest at the name. She kept her face perfectly calm. “Then we will make sure he stays dead this time.”
The lead inquisitor placed a final item on the table, a sketched portrait made from survivor descriptions and old military records.
Seraphine reached out and touched the page.
The moment her fingers brushed the charcoal lines of Darius Voss’s face, a violent memory slammed into her mind like a hammer.
She saw blood. So much blood. A battlefield at night. A man’s hand reaching desperately toward her through corpses. A simple wedding ring slipped from his bloody fingers and fell into the mud. She felt the crushing grief as if it were her own. The ring spun slowly, catching faint moonlight before disappearing into darkness.
Seraphine gasped sharply and pulled her hand back. The memory vanished as quickly as it came, leaving her heart racing and her palms cold.
“High Priestess?” Aldric asked, concern flashing across his face. “Are you alright?”
She steadied herself, forcing her voice to remain steady. “I’m fine. Just… the thought of such corruption disgusts me.”
The inquisitors exchanged glances but said nothing more.
Seraphine stared down at the portrait. The man in the sketch had strong features, honorable eyes, and the bearing of a respected commander. Nothing like the monster they described now. Yet something deep inside her twisted painfully at the sight of his face.
She didn’t understand why her hands were still shaking.
She didn’t understand why the memory of that wedding ring felt like it had once belonged to her.
But one thing was becoming terrifyingly clear.
Whatever connection existed between her and this Hollow King ran far deeper than any report or briefing could explain.
And it was only getting stronger.