Free And Revenge
The huntsman ascended the winding stairs, dagger in hand and chest clutched tightly, until he emerged into a stony corridor choked with vines. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. His gaze fixed upon the ancient wooden door ahead, its surface weathered and marked with mysterious symbols.
With cautious steps, he advanced down the corridor, the king's whip now coiled in his other hand, crackling faintly with latent power. Each footfall echoed softly against the moss-covered stones, the sound reverberating through the silent hallways of the forgotten castle.
As he neared the door, a chill swept through him, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He knew the Lycan-being prince lurked beyond, a creature of legend and terror. Gripping both dagger and whip tighter, he steeled himself for the confrontation ahead, his mind racing with thoughts of duty and the impending battle that would decide the fate of the kingdom.
He walked to the door, pulled out the key, and unlocked the door hearing sounds of crying from the other side as he slowly opened the door he saw the defeated straw bed, the dead fireplace with the skeletons resting next to the fireplace and the boy sitting in the darkness hugging his legs as he cried.
The huntsman's gaze fell upon the pitiful figure before him, the son of the king and the late queen, born to be such a monstrous Lycan being like a wolf. Pity mingled with sorrow in his heart as he beheld the twisted form that once belonged to royalty...if he was born to be human.
Yet, duty is called louder than empathy. The huntsman squared his shoulders, tightening his grip on the dagger and the crackling whip. This was not the time for sentimentality. The kingdom's safety depended on him ending the lycan prince's reign of terror once and for all that may be lurking to be released from the boy's mind.
With resolve hardening his features, he stepped forward, ready to confront the creature that had once been a prince, but since he was born, he was now and is a threat.
He continued seeing the sight of the feared young boy seeing the healed scars on his body that were slightly covered in filth. "Forgive me, My Prince, but your father instructed me to end you. I hope you can finally not only be free from the years of being enslaved in this tower but to be in peace now", he said stonily as he stared at the rocking fifthly young boy as he pulled out his sword and raised it high to strike the nameless boy down and put him out of misery.
Just as the sharp sword arced towards its target, a clawed hand intercepted it with startling speed. The huntsman's gaze locked onto the young boy, whose bare, clawed hand gripped his weapon firmly. The huntsman grunted, attempting to wrest his sword free from the child's surprisingly strong grip. As their eyes met, the assassin's red gaze burned intensely, a wide and eerie smirk slowly spreading across his face.
The huntsman locked eyes with the boy, staring into the deep, blood-red irises. He exerted more force, trying to pry his weapon from the boy's relentless grip, but the boy held on, his fingers tightening around the sword. Drops of crimson dripped from his hands, mingling with the tension in the air. His grip seemed unyielding, fueled by a determination that matched the intensity in his eerie gaze.
He could feel the sword slipping out of his sweaty hands as he tried holding on and struggled to ram it down to end the boy, but the prince's strength was relentless for such a young age. The huntsman felt the sword slipping from his sweaty hands as he struggled to maintain his grip. He strained to drive it down, aiming to strike the boy, but the prince's youthful strength proved unyielding. Despite his efforts, the blade wavered, and he grappled to regain control, his heart pounding with urgency against the relentless force of the young prince.
The boy continued to stare at him with a chilling smile, channeling years of hatred and anger from his father's abuse and his confinement in the tower. His grip on the sword tightened, blood dripping from his wounded hands as he steadily wrested it from the assassin's weakening grasp.
The sword finally slipped from the huntsman's grip. With bloodied hands, he yanked it free and swiftly pounced on his prey like a savage wolf, driving him to the ground.
Screams, flesh squelching, menacing, and rabid growls and snarls were only heard in the haunted tower.
He continued having his mouth in the corpse of the huntsman's neck stripping the red-soaked flesh from his first and fresher victim. His father would bring his dead poisoned wives for him to feed and their flesh was not so divine, until now. The taste was fresh as he continued ripping the huntsman's flesh, then he noticed a smell coming from the dead huntsman, it smelled familiar like his...father. The boy gazed at the lifeless form, pressing his face close to inhale the lingering scent of the king. A wide smile crept across his lips as he savored the bittersweet moment. Then with a raspy wheeze, he lifted his bloodied face, his eyes fixing upon the open wooden door that framed the ghostly night sky. The moon cast its pale glow through the window, painting the room in an eerie light.
The boy stared at the opened door with wide eyes of curiosity and hope with blood protruding blood from the mouth of his victim then the nameless prince slowly raised himself on his two feet, slowly took a step towards the opened door that had been closed to lock him from the outside world his sixteen years of his life. He strolled and placed his hand on the door with eyes still wide and mouth covered in paint of blood, then pulled the door wider hearing a low creak, gasped in fright, and hid behind the door on his knees rocking after he felt the first attack of the moonlight that touched his skin.
He remained hiding behind the door in fright then peeked out seeing the empty hall, the window with the glow of the moon, he remained staring down the hall.
He then turned back to the prison, the destroyed straw bed, the bones of his father's poisoned wives, the fireplace, and the dead huntsman with the opened empty chest the king gave him. This was his chance. For the first time in sixteen long years since the night he was born, he has been locked in this lonely tower his whole life, being abused by his father, struggling endlessly to be free, to fight for his sanity and broken mind, and to kill for revenge for those years he had suffered.
This is his chance to be free.
To have revenge.
The nameless Riddle prince of the king and queen slowly raised his hand and rested it on the cold stone floor feeling the plant vine, then he opened the door wide again then saw the full view of the pathway to his freedom, he slowly stood back up and took a step on the ground then another and another as he walked few more steps towards the other end of the hall smelling the fresh clean air as he inhaled the fresh scent then he stopped and turned to the stained glass window seeing the moon glowing down on him. He slowly reached out his claw hand to the glowing lunar and closed his hand into a fist then smiled.
He was truly free.
He continued walking down the corridor and then down the spiral stairs then to another door, pushed it then made a loud gasp feeling a slight but fresh wind as he opened the door seeing the dark wide-opened sky, the diamond stars, the moon, feeling the cool grass beneath his bare feet, he spun witnessing and inhaling it all as he smiled wider feeling the rich sense of freedom then he inhaled deep and lets out a loud howl that stretched across the land as he remaining staring at the night sky with his eyes widely glued to the moon and mesmerized by her glowing beauty. He remained staring at the lunar as if he was seeing a goddess then he heard a sound of growls coming from the bushes, he slowly turned around and in the deep shadows of the forest, numerous pairs of eyes were glowing eerily in the forest as if they were spirits. He walked towards them, seeing a clear view of the shadowy eyes of the wolves as they stared at the nameless Riddle bloodied prince.
He halted abruptly, extending his hand with an eerie calmness. From the depths of the shadows, the alpha wolf emerged, its golden eyes fixed upon him. The boy's clawed hand hovered, and with a knowing sniff, the wolf approached, sensing no threat. A faint smile played on the boy's lips as he lowered his other hand, invitingly.
In a silent understanding, the alpha wolf accepted the gesture, its tension easing as the boy embraced it. Gradually, more wolves materialized from the darkness, drawn by an unspoken bond, and they too greeted their enigmatic prince.
With a sinister grin, his pointed ears caught distant echoes of music and laughter emanating from the unfamiliar place ahead—a castle looming with dark majesty.
He fixed his gaze upon the fortress, a brooding figure in the moonlight, and his smile deepened.