Azrael sat in stillness.
The chamber was quiet save for the crackle of the fire and the faint ticking of the ancient grandfather clock that stood in the corner. The taste of Eva's kiss still lingered on her lips, the storm of their argument still raging in her mind. Her limbs felt heavy, like stone, her thoughts an entangled mass of confusion, sorrow, and disbelief.
She brought a trembling hand to her lips, the weight of Eva's words cutting deeper than she expected..
***You still don't get it, do you?***
Those words echoed endlessly in her skull. Eva had always been by her side—loyal, strong, unwavering. And now\\... shattered.
A sharp knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts.
"Come in," Azrael said, her voice raw but composed.
The door creaked open and a young maid stepped in. Her pale skin was almost translucent, and her eyes, wide with dread, found Azrael’s immediately. She bowed deeply, her body trembling.
"What is it?" Azrael asked, standing up swiftly, dread curling in her gut.
The maid's voice was barely above a whisper. "Princess... it's Prince Raphael."
—
The door to Raphael’s room had been blasted off its hinges. Chaos reigned inside.
The once-lavish chamber was now an image of pure devastation. The massive bedframe was split in two and tossed aside like splinters. Ornate mirrors lay shattered, glittering shards scattered across the floor like fallen stars. Blood smeared across the marble. Curtains were torn to ribbons, flapping weakly in the early morning breeze filtering in through the shattered stained-glass windows. Paintings had been ripped from their frames, their shredded canvas drooping like broken wings. Furniture lay in ruins. The ancient stone walls were cracked, some with spiderweb fractures, others outright cratered.
In the center of it all, Raphael's body hit the wall with a sickening *thud*, leaving a deep crater in the stone. Before he could fall, Valerion was upon him.
A blur of pale power and crimson eyes.
Valerion’s hand closed around Raphael’s throat and *slammed* him into the floor. The marble cracked under the force. Blood sprayed from Raphael’s mouth.
With a flick of his fingers, Valerion raised his son telekinetically. Raphael's body hovered in the air, arms and legs spread.
"No!" Azrael cried, rushing into the room—
**CRACK. SNAP.**
Valerion's eyes glowed as both of Raphael’s arms broke backward with a grotesque crunch. He screamed, but it was cut short when his legs followed—bones snapping through muscle, piercing through flesh like jagged ivory spears.
Valerion’s shadow magic rippled through the chamber like smoke, thick and suffocating.
Azrael lunged for Raphael—
**WHAM!** She was slammed against the nearest wall, her back striking hard enough to knock the breath out of her. Enormous hands of living shadow emerged from the darkness and *gripped* her—one across her chest, another pinning her legs.
**"FATHER!"** she screamed, struggling.
Her golden eyes met his blood-red ones. He was fury incarnate.
Raphael lay on the ground, barely conscious. Blood dripped from his mouth, his limbs grotesquely bent, breath shallow and wet.
"What did I do to deserve this..." Valerion growled. "Why have the gods cursed me? First my wife... then my daughter... and now **MY HEIR!**"
Valerion stood over him, a towering silhouette backlit by the rising sun through the broken window. His voice was cold as ice.
"I would rather crush you with my own hands than see my bloodline tied to a *lycan*."
Azrael's heart dropped.
The first rays of dawn crept into the room, casting golden light on the destruction.
Valerion raised Raphael’s limp body again. His hands never moved—his will did the work. He floated his son upward... toward the window.
**"NO!"** Azrael screamed, thrashing in the grasp of the shadows. **"FATHER, PLEASE!"**
But he didn’t listen.
As Raphael's body touched the light, his skin *sizzled*.
He screamed.
Smoke rose from his skin. Flesh split open. Flames licked at his robe. The stench of burning flesh filled the room.
Azrael sobbed. **"STOP! YOU’LL KILL HIM!"**
Still, Valerion remained silent, his jaw clenched, eyes unblinking.
Miles away, Cyrus froze mid-step in the training grounds of the Bloodmoon Pack. The sound of metal clashing dulled in his ears. A pain unlike any other gripped his chest, and he staggered.
Eryx rushed to him. "Cyrus? What is it?"
Cyrus didn’t answer. His eyes turned toward the north. Toward Blackthorne.
***Raphael.***
Back in the castle, Raphael’s screams were quieter now—his voice hoarse, broken.
Azrael could barely see through her tears. She strained against the shadows. Blood ran from her arms where they dug into her skin.
"Father... please... let him go."
Valerion’s eyes flicked toward her.
For the first time in a forever... a tear fell from the King's eye.
His expression, still terrifying, twisted in something akin to grief.
He whispered, "As you wish."
He let go.
Raphael's burning body dropped.
Azrael’s scream pierced the air as her twin vanished from view.