Doria leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled together, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"Well done, Valerian," she purred, her voice smooth as silk. "You've played your part excellently."
Valerian's lips twisted into a smirk. "So, what's next?"
"We need him outside the palace," Doria replied, her tone laced with cold calculation.
"Once he is away from his precious protection, we will strike. And he will be ours." She paused, her smile widening. "Ah, and don't forget to keep him emotionally weak. Break him from the inside. Make him doubt, make him falter."
Valerian chuckled, but there was unease in his eyes. "What about the other soul? We've been searching for it for so long... Any development?"
Doria's expression darkened. "I had hoped the breaking of the seal would lure the other soul to us. But it appears it's not within the Light Fae Kingdom. If it was, it would have felt the pull-drawn irresistibly to its other half."
"Do you think the other soul is in the Dark Fae Kingdom?" Valerian asked, eyes narrowing.
"It's a possibility," Doria admitted, her gaze sharp. "We may have to contact our allies there. But something tells me... it's more complicated than that."
Her fingers drummed against the arm of her chair. "We'll keep digging. We can't afford to overlook anything."
Valerian hesitated before speaking again. "I'm still... perplexed by how he managed to use fire magic."
Doria's eyes flashed. "He carries the soul of Lucianar. What do you expect? His potential is far greater than anyone realizes. Make sure he is lured out of the palace by tomorrow. No mistakes."
Deep within the dark expanse of the Dark Fae Forest...
"Crown Prince, the Marquis convoy has arrived. We await your order to attack," a soldier reported, his voice taut with reverence.
Raiven Draevar stepped out of his tent, his presence commanding and unyielding. His waist-long silver hair shimmered in the dim light, his crimson eyes burning with lethal intent. The air around him crackled with barely restrained magic.
The dark fae crown prince-living in exile, biding his time ever since the massacre of his family during the Great War. His vengeance had been tempered like steel, sharp and deadly.
His face was sharp, almost cruel in its beauty, and his body bore the strength and grace of a battle-hardened warrior.
"You may attack," Raiven's voice was a deep, icy growl. "Ensure that you bring Marquis to me alive. Leave no other man breathing."
The command rippled through his forces like wildfire. His warriors descended upon the convoy, a brutal dance of blood and steel.
Raiven moved among them, his magic raw and unbridled, but honed to deadly precision. Flames erupted from his fingertips, swirling with the currents of air he wielded effortlessly. No one else in the Dark Fae Kingdom could match his mastery over fire and air.
The battle was chaos. Men screamed as fire licked at their flesh, air crushed their bodies with merciless force.
Raiven was everywhere, his movements swift, lethal, his eyes burning with vengeance.
But even amidst the carnage, he remained cold. Detached. His gaze sought only one man.
"Raiven!" Kael Blackthorne, Raiven's trusted ally and friend-the son of the former general-called out, "Marquis has fled to the borders with a few of his men."
Raiven's fury surged, a dangerous glint sharpening his expression. He pursued Marquis through the tangled borderlands, the landscape blurring as he surged forward with relentless speed.
He found the man at the edge of a valley, his soldiers slaughtered, his body trembling from both exhaustion and terror.
"Please..." Marquis's voice cracked, his hands raised in surrender. "Have mercy. I will serve you... do anything..."
"Mercy?" Raiven's laugh was low, bitter. "You dare beg me for mercy after what you've done? After you orchestrated the massacre of my family while I was but a child? You hunted me for years, hoping I would never return." His voice lowered, ice coating every word. "Yet here I am."
Marquis sobbed, his dignity shattered. "I... I was following orders... I-"
"Lies," Raiven snarled. His magic swelled, fire and air coiling around him like serpents. "You butchered my family. Sought to end me before I could rise. And now... you beg for mercy?"
Raiven's fingers flexed, a vicious smile curving his lips. "I will show you the mercy you deserve."
Magic roared from him, fire tearing into Marquis's flesh, air slicing through his body with precision. Raiven took his time, savoring every scream, every plea, until there was nothing left but ash and blood staining the earth.
He stood there, breathing heavily, his eyes still blazing with fury. His heart pounded, but it was not only from the kill. Something was... different.
The air itself felt heavy, charged. And there was a pull. Subtle at first, but growing stronger with every passing moment.)) Raiven's Alpha instincts stirred, sharp and restless, urging him to follow that unknown call.
Raiven glanced toward the forest just beyond the borders-where the Dark Fae Kingdom met the Light Fae Kingdom. His gaze narrowed, instincts flaring.
Something... someone... was calling to him.
"Prepare the scouts," Raiven commanded, his voice low and dangerous. "We are heading to the border."