Chapter 78 - Kidnap
-Helia Palace; Luxana's Room; Late Night-
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*2 minutes later*
The ornate chamber was bathed in moonlight, casting long shadows across the plush carpets and gilded furnishings. Luxana lay sprawled on her massive four-poster bed, her crimson hair fanned out on the silk pillows. The peaceful silence was suddenly shattered by her agonized groan.
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"UGHH. Ughh," Luxana moaned, her body contorting as waves of pain wracked her abdomen. She rolled from side to side, tangling herself in the fine linen sheets. "AHHHHHHH. It-it-hurts," she cried out, her voice hoarse and trembling. Her delicate hands clutched at her stomach, fingers digging into the fabric of her nightgown as if trying to claw out the source of her agony.
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Beads of sweat formed on her brow, glistening in the pale light. Her breathing came in short, ragged gasps, each inhale sending fresh spasms of pain through her core. What the hell did that maid feed me? Luxana's mind raced through a fog of suffering. My stomach feels like it'll explode any minute. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the pain to subside, but it only seemed to intensify with each passing second.
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Then, cutting through her misery, came an ominous sound.
*Click*
*Clack*
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The window latch unlocked with a soft metallic scrape, followed by the gentle creak of hinges as the pane swung open. A gust of cool night air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth from the palace gardens below. Luxana's eyes flew open, her body tensing despite the pain. She tried to lift her head, to see who or what had entered, but her muscles refused to cooperate.
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Heavy footfalls thudded against the polished floor - one set, then another, and another. Shadows stretched across the room like grasping fingers as multiple figures entered. They moved with practiced stealth, their bulk belying their grace. Luxana caught glimpses of their massive forms - men clad in black, faces obscured by dark hoods. Their sheer size and presence exuded menace, filling the air with palpable tension.
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One of the intruders approached her bed, his movements deliberate and silent. Another signaled to the rest with a curt nod, his muscled arm catching the moonlight as it moved. The leader leaned over Luxana's trembling form, looming like a dark specter. In his gloved hand, he held a white handkerchief, its fabric gleaming faintly in the dim light.
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Without hesitation, he pressed the cloth firmly over Luxana's mouth and nose. The sharp, sickly-sweet smell of chloroform filled her senses, overpowering even the lingering scent of her perfume. Luxana's ruby eyes widened in alarm, a muffled cry escaping her lips. She weakly raised her arms, trying to push him away, but her strength was fleeting. Her vision began to blur, darkness creeping in at the edges like encroaching shadows.
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"Ugh... stop..." she murmured faintly, her words barely audible through the cloth. Her eyelids grew heavy, fluttering as she fought against the encroaching unconsciousness. But it was a losing battle. Within moments, her body went limp, sinking into the mattress like a marionette with cut strings.
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The leader removed the handkerchief, tucking it away in a pocket of his dark attire. With practiced ease, he slung Luxana over his shoulder. Her upper body dangled behind his back, arms swaying limply, while his muscled arm secured her lower half. His hand gripped her pelvic bone for stability, the pressure firm but not bruising.
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He turned to his team, moonlight glinting off the whites of his eyes as he surveyed the room. "Let's move," he barked in a low, gravelly voice that brooked no argument.
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The men moved with military precision, their boots making barely a whisper against the polished floor as they exited through the window one by one. Outside, a rope ladder hung from the balcony, its fibers rough against their gloved hands as they descended swiftly. The cool night air whipped at their clothes, carrying the faint sounds of crickets and distant owl hoots.
-Helia Palace Grounds; Outer Walls-
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The kidnappers moved like wraiths across the manicured lawns, their dark forms melding seamlessly with the shadows cast by towering oak trees. Dew-laden grass bent silently beneath their feet as they made their way to the outer wall. There, another ladder awaited them, its metal rungs cold and slick with evening moisture.
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One by one, they scaled the wall with practiced ease. The leader, still carrying Luxana's unconscious form, went last. He climbed one-handed, his movements fluid despite his burden. At the top, he paused for a heartbeat, scanning the grounds beyond for any sign of guards. Satisfied, he descended the other side, landing with a soft thud on the damp earth.
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Once clear of the palace walls, the group sprinted across an open field. The tall grass whispered against their legs as they ran, heading for a cluster of dense trees at the forest's edge. There, hidden in the shadows, waited their escape vehicle - a nondescript carriage, its horses stamping restlessly as if sensing the tension in the air.
-Edge of Forest; Carriage-
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The carriage stood ready, its dark wood blending with the surrounding foliage. The horses' breath came in misty puffs in the cool night air, their ears twitching at every sound. The leader approached first, still carrying Luxana over his shoulder. He ducked inside the carriage, laying her gently on one of the benches. Her head lolled to the side, a strand of crimson hair falling across her pale face.
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The other men piled in after him, their bulk making the carriage creak ominously. Once all were aboard, the leader gave a sharp nod to the driver. "Move!" he commanded, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of authority.
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The driver cracked the reins, and the carriage lurched forward. Wheels crunched against gravel and twigs as they entered the forest proper, the dense canopy above plunging them into near-total darkness. The only sounds were the horses' labored breathing, the creak of wood, and the occasional snap of a branch beneath the wheels.
-Deep Forest; Carriage Ambush-
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They had barely made it a mile into the woods when the air around them seemed to crackle with energy. The horses whinnied nervously, tossing their heads as if sensing impending danger. Suddenly, the night was split by a blinding flash and a deafening boom.
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CRACKLE-BOOM!
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A bolt of black lightning, crackling with otherworldly energy, struck the rear of the carriage with explosive force. The back half of the vehicle splintered apart violently, sending shards of wood and metal flying in all directions. The horses screamed in terror, rearing up and nearly toppling the remains of the carriage.
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Inside what was left of their transport, Luxana stirred abruptly from her drug-induced slumber. Her ruby eyes fluttered open, unfocused and clouded with confusion. She groaned softly, her head pounding and her limbs feeling like lead. As her vision slowly cleared, she found herself surrounded by massive figures - eight hulking men with grim expressions who were now scrambling out of the wreckage.
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One man, his face contorted with rage and fear, grabbed Luxana roughly by the arm. His fingers dug into her soft flesh as he yanked her from the splintered remains of the carriage. In his other hand, he brandished a gleaming knife, its blade catching the moonlight as he pressed it against her throat. Luxana could feel the cold steel against her skin, a thin line of warmth trickling down her neck where it nicked her.
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"If you want her alive, come with us!" the man bellowed into the darkness beyond, his voice booming with false bravado. "Don't test me!"
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For a moment, there was only silence - an eerie calm that made even Luxana's captors shift uneasily. The forest seemed to hold its breath, waiting.
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Then came a voice from within the shadows: calm, collected, and cold enough to send chills down their spines. "Nah," it said simply, the single syllable dripping with casual disdain. "I'm good."
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Before anyone could react, a figure emerged from between two tall trees. Moonlight filtered through the blackened branches above, bathing him in an ethereal glow. His hair, a striking silvery-white, gleamed like freshly fallen snow. Aquamarine eyes glinted with predatory intensity, seeming to glow with an inner light.
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It was Cillian, and he was breathtaking in his deadly grace.
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Without warning or hesitation, Cillian launched himself forward. He moved like liquid mercury, his body a blur of motion too fast for the eye to follow. The first kidnapper barely had time to register the threat before Cillian was upon him. With a movement so swift it seemed almost gentle, Cillian's blade sliced cleanly through the man's throat. A fountain of crimson sprayed forth, glistening like rubies in the moonlight.
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"Get him!" another kidnapper shouted desperately, his voice cracking with fear. Two more lunged at Cillian simultaneously, their massive forms casting long shadows as they moved. But Cillian was like smoke, twisting gracefully between them. His blade flashed, a silver arc in the darkness. It tore through flesh and bone with terrifying ease, leaving severed limbs and gaping wounds in its wake.
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Luxana could only watch in horror and fascination as blood sprayed across her dress. The warm liquid stained its delicate fabric, turning the pale silk a deep, glistening crimson. She stood frozen, unable to look away from the deadly dance before her.
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Cillian moved with inhuman speed and precision. To one kidnapper, he was a whirlwind of slashing blades. To another, he seemed to materialize from thin air, his aquamarine eyes the last thing they saw before darkness claimed them. He ducked under a wild swing, retaliating with a thrust that pierced the man's heart. In the same fluid motion, he spun, his blade opening another attacker from navel to sternum.
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Blood and viscera painted the forest floor, the metallic scent of death filling the air. Cillian's movements were a brutal ballet, each strike precise and lethal. He seemed to anticipate every move, every desperate lunge. One by one, the kidnappers fell, their bodies crumpling to the ground like discarded puppets.
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As the last man fell, gurgling his final breath, an eerie silence descended upon the clearing. Luxana's breath hitched violently as she turned back toward Cillian, her ruby eyes wide with a mixture of terror and awe.
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There he stood amidst the carnage, bathed in moonlight. His silvery hair was tousled but miraculously untouched by blood. Those mesmerizing aquamarine eyes seemed to glow faintly against his pale skin. His expression was unreadable, a mask of calm belying the violence he had just unleashed. In that moment, he was terrifying and mesmerizing - a vision of beauty and death incarnate.
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For Luxana, time seemed to stand still. She realized with startling clarity that this man - this enigma - was capable of both saving her life and ending it just as easily if he chose to do so. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, a mixture of fear and something else she couldn't quite name.
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Cillian's gaze met hers, aquamarine depths seeming to pierce her very soul. In the silence of the blood-soaked clearing, with the bodies of her would-be kidnappers cooling at their feet, Luxana found herself captivated by the deadly grace of her savior.
The forest clearing, bathed in pale moonlight, was a scene of eerie calm after the violent storm that had just passed. Cillian stood amidst the carnage, his silvery hair catching the soft light, creating an almost ethereal glow around him. His aquamarine eyes, sharp and alert, fixed upon Luxana as she stared at him with a mixture of awe and trepidation.
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"Don't study me. You won't graduate," Cillian hissed, his voice low and tinged with a hint of amusement. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pristine white handkerchief. With slow, deliberate movements, he began to wipe his sword clean, the cloth gradually staining crimson as it absorbed the blood of his fallen foes.
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Luxana stood rooted to the spot, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to process the scene before her. Her ruby eyes darted frantically from Cillian's bloodied blade to his unreadable expression, then back to the corpses littering the ground. Each body was a testament to Cillian's lethal efficiency - limbs twisted at unnatural angles, deep gashes revealing glimpses of bone and sinew.
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"But!" Cillian's sharp exclamation cut through the silence, causing Luxana to flinch. He began to move towards her, his steps measured and purposeful. The soft crunch of leaves and twigs under his boots seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet clearing.
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As he reached her, Luxana's gaze remained fixed on the bodies, unable to tear herself away from the gruesome sight. Cillian placed a hand on her right shoulder, his touch firm yet not unkind. He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "Luxana. Trusting you is my decision. Proving me right is your choice."
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The weight of his words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Before Luxana could formulate a response, the silence of the night was broken by the sound of approaching voices and the flickering of distant lights.
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From the depths of the forest emerged a crowd of villagers, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of torches. The flames danced and swayed, casting long shadows that seemed to reach out like grasping fingers. The villagers moved cautiously, their eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and fear as they took in the blood-soaked clearing.
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As they gathered around the gruesome scene, whispers and murmurs rippled through the crowd, growing louder with each passing moment:
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"By the gods, what happened here?" gasped an elderly woman, her wrinkled hand clutching at her shawl.
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"Look at all the blood!" exclaimed a young man, his face pale in the torchlight. "It's everywhere!"
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A middle-aged farmer scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Who are these people? Bandits, perhaps?"
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Suddenly, a sharp intake of breath from one of the villagers cut through the murmurs. "Is that...the queen?"
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An elderly woman with silver hair pulled back in a tight bun nudged her neighbor, her voice quavering with excitement. "Isn't that the new queen? The one who just took the throne? I'd recognize that red hair anywhere!"
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Her neighbor, a burly man with calloused hands, shook his head in disbelief. "It can't be," he replied, squinting to get a better look. "What would she be doing out here in the middle of the night, surrounded by...this?" He gestured vaguely at the carnage around them.
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"But look at her clothes, her bearing," insisted another villager, a young woman with bright, observant eyes. "The way she holds herself - it must be her!"
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As the gossip spread like wildfire through the crowd, the sea of people parted to make way for a diminutive yet commanding figure. It was the village elder, his face a map of wrinkles etched deep by time and wisdom. Despite his small stature, he carried himself with an air of authority that commanded respect.
To be Continued...
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