CROWN OF FORBIDDEN HEARTS

Erythian and his royal guards rode through the streets of Calithea as the sun began to rise, his focus unshakable: find the queen. Every moment that passed without a trace of Lysandra gnawed at him. He replayed her words over and over in his mind-her fiery declaration that she would return alone, the blood-red fury in her eyes, that wasnt like lysandra.

The streets of Calithea were quiet at first, but as the day wore on, the kingdom began to stir. People went about their routines, but there was a tension in the air. News of Alaric's supposed death had yet to spread, and Erythian silently prayed it would stay that way until they found answers.

They searched everywhere-the stables, the outskirts, even the dense forests Zara might have passed through on her way back. Each place turned up nothing. Not a single clue. Frustration burned in Erythian's chest as the sun dipped below the horizon once again.

By midnight, he gave the order. "We return to the palace."

His men exchanged uncertain glances, but none dared to question him.

As they rode into the palace courtyard, a distant rumble of hooves broke the silence. A single horse approached, carrying two figures. One was a guard, slumped forward with exhaustion. The other was a man, battered and tied, looking like he had been dragged through hell.

The horse came to a halt before Erythian, its rider dismounting quickly. The guard pulled the beaten man down and threw him at Erythian's feet.

"Your Majesty," the guard said, bowing. "This is the man who broke the news of Alaric's death."

Erythian's sharp gaze fell on the prisoner. His hands clenched as his powers stirred, sensing the overwhelming fear radiating from the man. 

There was something else, too-confusion, guilt, and a sliver of pain that went deeper than the bruises on his skin.

Erythian crouched in front of the man, his piercing eyes locking onto his. The prisoner flinched but didn't look away.

"Confine him until I'm ready to make him talk," Erythian ordered, his voice cold. Without another word, he turned and strode away.

Hours later, Erythian found himself walking through the dimly lit halls of the palace dungeon. The air was damp and heavy, the flickering torches casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. When he reached the cell, the guard on duty unlocked it, allowing Erythian to step inside.

The prisoner sat slumped against the wall, his face swollen and bloodied. He barely looked up as Erythian entered.

"What should I call you?" Erythian asked, his tone

even.

The prisoner remained silent.

"It would be in your best interest to talk," Erythian continued, stepping closer. "Where is the queen?"

The man's silence persisted, his head drooping lower.

Erythian's patience snapped. He grabbed the prisoner by the collar, yanking him upright. "WHERE IS THE QUEEN?!" he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber.

The man winced but said nothing. Blood dripped from his cracked lips, his eyes hollow and distant.

Realization dawned on Erythian. This wasn't just defiance-the man couldn't speak.

"I don't have time for this," Erythian muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His powers surged within him, and he made a decision. It would come at a cost, but he couldn't let that stop him. Not now.

He turned to the guard outside the cell. "Jon, keep watch. No one enters until I say so."

Jon hesitated but nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Erythian shut the cell door and knelt before the prisoner. Grabbing the man's hands, he closed his eyes and focused. His gift allowed him to delve into people's minds, to uncover truths buried deep within their memories. But it was a double-edged sword.

Every time he used it, it drained him of his vitality, his strength, even his life force.

The connection formed instantly, pulling Erythian into the prisoner's mind.

Images flashed before him. 

A woman with bright red hair and a black cloak stood over the prisoner, her voice cold and commanding.

"Forty pieces of silver," she said, tossing a pouch onto the table. "Take this, kill the guard, steal his uniform, and deliver the message of Alaric's death."

The prisoner stammered a reply, fear etched on his face. "And if I don't?"

The woman leaned in close, her eyes like daggers.

"Then I'll kill you myself."

The scene shifted. The prisoner, now wearing the guard's uniform, approached the council chamber, his hands trembling as he prepared to deliver the news. Erythian felt the man's guilt, his regret.

Another flash-this time, the prisoner tried to return the silver, begging the woman to call off the plan.

She laughed in his face, her demeanor was cruel and unyielding. 

When he threatened to expose the scheme, she ordered her men to beat him senseless.

Erythian watched as they cut out the prisoner's tongue, silencing him forever.

The memories blurred, and Erythian pushed deeper, searching for any clue about Lysandra. He saw the queen's horse galloping through the forest, her silver-white hair streaming behind her. Someone watched from the shadows, hidden among the trees.

Erythian tried to focus on the figure, to see their face, but the memory fractured. His strength faltered, and the connection began to break.

"Come on," he whispered through gritted teeth, forcing himself to hold on.

But it was no use. His energy was gone, his body weakening by the second. A sharp pain shot through his chest, and he felt himself slipping.

"Enough!" Jon's voice broke through the haze as the quard pulled Ervthian back to reality.

Erythian gasped for air, his vision blurry. He looked down at his hands, trembling and pale. A strand of his blonde hair was now streaked with black, this always happened whenever he over exerted himself.

Jon knelt beside him, his expression full of concern.

"Your Majesty, this is too dangerous. You're pushing yourself too far."

Erythian shook his head, his frustration boiling over.

He slammed his fist into the ground, the sound echoing through the cell. "I was so close."

He glanced at the prisoner, who sat motionless, his head bowed. "Let him go," Erythian said quietly.

Jon hesitated. "But-"

"Let him go," Erythian repeated firmly. "That's an order."

Jon nodded reluctantly, signaling to the other guards to release the man.

Erythian stepped into the palace courtyard, the cool night air doing little to calm his raging emotions. He felt defeated, useless. He had failed to find the queen, failed to protect her.

As he stood there, lost in thought, a voice cut through the silence.

Erythian froze, his blood running cold. The voice was deep, taunting, and eerily familiar.

"Come to me, brother," it continued, a sinister laugh echoing in the darkness. "Let's settle this once and for all."

Erythian's eyes turned crimson with fury as realization struck. He knew that voice.

Without a second thought, he mounted his horse, spurring it forward with reckless speed.

Meanwhile the Queen, Zara was seated in a pitch-black room, her hands bound behind her and a blindfold covering her eyes. The air was thick and oppressive, the silence broken only by the sound of her own breathing. sharp and commanding; she felt a mighty presence walk in on her and. although she was scared, Zara's defiant nature came into play.

"What do you want?" Zara whispered "you can still answer now, while I`m still in a good mood and I might spare you" Zara commanded

A deep voice as hefty as thunder echoed from behind Zara "FIESTY" he laughs hysterically.