FSE

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Night had fallen over the Castellum Mountains. King Fekete, ever the devoted father, read a story to his daughter as if she were still a little girl. It was bedtime, and Fekete would soon depart; these patrols were necessary if they hoped to keep their kind, and those they loved, alive.

"And so, Hercules and Olympus Ánemos drove off those fearsome bronze birds of Stymphalia. The end."

Fekete watched as a single tear rolled down Sötét’s cheek.

"I know, my little one," the king soothed his princess. "But you still have me. You know how much I love you."

"Don’t worry, Father," Sötét fought back her tears. "I’ve grown used to it."

Hearing the tremor in her voice, Fekete responded with gentle licks and nuzzles. The touch of his violet tongue made Sötét giggle like a child, squirming away playfully even as she craved her father’s warmth.

When the tender moment ended, Sötét kissed his cheek.

"I thank the Lord for giving me such a loving father," she whispered.

"The pleasure is mine, little one."

Their quiet exchange was interrupted by a guard’s sharp call.

"Majesty," a sentinel announced, "Queen Ieder? has returned from her patrol."

"I’ll be there shortly," Fekete replied. Turning back to his daughter, he murmured, "Rest now, my precious girl."

With one last kiss and a tender lick, the king left the room to prepare for his patrol. The sound of dragon paws echoed through the halls, followed by the distant beat of wings taking flight. Then, after a few fading footsteps, silence fell.

In the dark and stillness, the princess settled into bed, letting sleep claim her. Eventually, even the faintest noises faded, until the distant howl of a wolf lulled her deeper into the arms of Hypnos, son of Nyx, whose grip seemed stronger than usual.

She wasn’t sure if she dreamed it or not, but Sötét felt a great protective wing enveloping her. For a moment, she thought she saw her mother, her guardian angel, ever present so long as she didn’t push her away. She even felt younger, as if only days had passed since hatching. Oh, what a beautiful feeling! Sheltered beneath the wings of someone stronger!

The sensation overwhelmed her. She began murmuring to herself as if her mother were there, so lost in the illusion that she didn’t hear the footsteps outside her door. Padded paws, with non-retractable claws.

"Sister," Csillagos called from the doorway.

"Csillagos?!" Sötét turned quickly, her eyes damp. "What are you doing here?"

"Just checking on you," her feathered, furry brother replied. "These patrols are driving me mad. I can’t sleep, so I wanted to spend time with my dear sister."

Sötét frowned. This was… unusual. Csillagos’s tone carried something strange, almost threatening.

"Why really?" she asked warily.

"That doesn’t matter," Csillagos said. "I just need you to calm my troubled soul."

"Csillagos, what’s wrong? I’ll tell Father..."

Without warning, he lunged.

He pinned her to the floor, sinking his fangs deep into her shoulder. One forepaw pressed on her throat, claws pricking her jugular.

"Hey, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!" Sötét screamed, terrified.

Then came the horrifying revelation.

"Clever girl," the monster hissed. "To suspect I’m not your brother."

As he spoke, "Csillagos" began to change. His form melted into a black, two-headed hydra, no, Nictoeversor shed his disguise, as if mocking her: "Foolish little dragon."

"HYDRAAAAA!!!" Sötét’s shriek of terror echoed through the castle, jolting the real Csillagos awake. He listened, then bolted from his bed—only to collide with Nkrithana in the hallway.

"Where are you going, fluffball?" the lioness sneered, baring her teeth.

"To save my sister," Csillagos growled, attacking. "Shadow’s Might!"

Nkrithana lunged, but an invisible force yanked her back. The prince had bent the castle’s darkness to his will, shackling her in chains of pure night.

"Soul of Night!"

Csillagos vanished into the shadows, using them to race toward Sötét’s room, only to be thwarted by moonlight streaming through windows and the glow of scattered candles.

Inside, Nictoeversor loomed over Sötét, his tongues flicking lasciviously.

"Let me go, you monster!" she screamed, thrashing. She tried to summon her powers, but nothing happened.

"Struggle all you want, little dove," Nictoeversor purred. "My venom locks your gifts. Now you’ll learn what it means to be claimed by a true monster."

Csillagos burst in... and froze.

The hydra’s position over his sister made his blood run cold.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HER, YOU BASTARD?!"

He charged, but...

"Night’s Dominion!" the hydra’s right head snarled.

Invisible chains snapped around Csillagos, binding him just as they had Nkrithana.

"Stay put, furball," Nictoeversor hissed, never breaking rhythm. "If I wanted her dead in Typhon’s name, she’d already be carrion. Watch closely, princeling. See what happens to those who defy us."

"NO, PLEASE, STOP!" Sötét begged.

It was useless.

The violation was sudden, a red-hot blade plunged into her flesh. Nictoeversor moved like a demon possessed, his act one of pure malice, meant to humiliate and break her.

Csillagos shuddered as a scream tore from Sötét’s throat. The hydra didn’t care. His two heads locked onto the prince, bared their fangs, and pressed harder.

"STOP, STOP, STOOOOOP!" Sötét clawed the floor. This wasn’t pleasure, it was agony. If only her powers weren’t nullified!

Csillagos strained against his bonds. He had to break free.

"Enough…" he gasped.

"Did you say something, worm?" The hydra’s right head glanced back, snarling with each thrust.

"I SAID STOP!" Csillagos roared. "You’ve had your fill!"

With a surge of will, he shattered the shadows and attacked.

"Royal Shadow Guard!" the hydra’s left head barked.

A crushing blow slammed into Csillagos’s neck, hurling him into the stone wall. He collapsed, dazed, as Nictoeversor’s shadow-beast pinned him, its bite draining his strength.

"Nice try, Fekete’s whelp."

"I won’t yield, Typhon’s spawn."

Breaking free, Csillagos lunged again—dodging the hydra’s tail, but Nictoeversor was ready.

"Phobos’ Anguish!"

Terror, raw and paralyzing, flooded Csillagos’s mind. He missed his strike.

"Royal Shadow Guard!"

"Wha...?!"

Blows rained on his snout. For a moment, he thought his face would be torn off. Then the shadow yanked him backward—just in time for the hydra’s tail to smash into him like a battering ram. He hit the wall again, blood dripping from his muzzle.

"Predictable," the hydra’s left head sneered, licking its jaws. "Shall we finish, darling?" it asked Sötét.

"AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"

Her scream was pure torment.

The commotion drew the guards, but Nkrithana still prowled the halls.

"Interrupting?" She unsheathed her claws. "Then die."

A slaughter began. The lioness moved like a phantom, rending flesh from bone, painting the corridors in dragon blood.

Nictoeversor barely glanced up.

"Don’t fret, sweetheart. We’re nearly done."

Sötét was too exhausted to fight. She could only endure.

The hydra’s assault grew frenzied. Csillagos, battered and hopeless, watched in horror, until, with a final roar of triumph, Nictoeversor finished.

"Your kind will learn who the true god is, Prince Csillagos."

With that, the hydra melted into the shadows, vanishing without a sound.

Slowly, Csillagos crawled to his sister. He pulled her into his arms, ignoring her initial resistance.

"Shhh… it’s over," he whispered. "This wasn’t your fault. I swear this won’t happen again."

Sötét trembled. Nictoeversor had succeeded, he’d sown terror, humiliation, and paranoia not just in her, but across the Twelve Kingdoms. Now, no one would know where the black hydra might strike next. Anyone could be him.

Yet, bit by bit, her panic faded beneath her brother’s starry wings. She didn’t care that she reeked of Typhon’s son. He didn’t care either.

All that mattered was keeping her safe.

And so, wrapped in each other, they slept.