He went back to the castle and took three trusted soldiers with him. Then, they all went back to the manor. Each soldier was ordered to search the forest, while Max would search the house.
He returned to the cellar and froze. He hadn’t noticed something sparkle before. Max’s knees nearly buckled as he stumbled towards the stilettos, his fingers shaking as he reached out. The sight of fresh blood sent a wave of nausea crashing through him. A scream built up in his chest, raw and primal, but he forced it down, his body trembling as rage fought with hopelessness.
His mate’s crystal stilettos.
Max’s breathing grew heavier. Visions of Sin bound, tortured, lying lifeless. His fear became unbearable. His hands began to tremble, a flash of rage igniting in his eyes as these dark thoughts overwhelmed him. Each thought was worse than the last, driving his desperation to a breaking point.
He just found her.
He couldn’t lose her right after they mated.
What cruel fate was that?
At the thought, a soldier called for him from within the manor. He informed Max that the ‘monster’ has been taken into custody, and is entering the throne room now. Anger flooded Max again, but this time from not being informed before taking it to his father, but he accepted it. The guards’ loyalty will always primarily be to the king, as is their duty.
Teleporting just outside of the warded throne room, flickering torches cast distorted shadows along the stone walls, as the eldest prince approached his father’s throne on the dais.
The echo of his footsteps bounced off the high, vaulted ceilings, the dark grandeur of the room feeling more oppressive without his brothers’ presence. Likely still sleeping from the party. His father sat at his throne, looking down cruelly at the person dragged by their arms.
Max’s skin pebbled at their appearance—skin charred and cracked, blisters forming like grotesque bubbles, chunks of flesh missing. One eye was an empty, bleeding socket, and their lips were split and swollen.
The acrid stench of charred flesh filled the air, and Max had to swallow down his disgust at the sight of such suffering.
He sensed a flicker of familiarity in their presence, his eyes narrowing with contempt. Could this wretched creature be responsible for what was happening to Sin?
The thought burned through him like acid, his fingers itching to close around their throat. He vowed vengeance—if they had done anything to his mate, they would suffer a fate far worse than what had already been inflicted upon them.
Sin
The doors to the throne room flew open. Sunlight flooded in through the glass ceiling, illuminating the throne room. Sin couldn’t hide anymore. Each step was agonizing, the pain relentless. The shackles on her wrists dug into her raw flesh, dragging her towards her fate.
Gasps rippled through the crowd, a wave of sharp intakes of breath. Faces twisted in horror; a mother yanked her child away, others turned away in disgust. No one could bear to look for long.
Sin was aware of the monstrosity she had become without needing a mirror. Vivienne went beyond boiling skin - she made sure the enchanted oil removed any trace of beauty, any chance of healing. Sin’s skin now hung in melted chunks, resembling tattered cloth. Her charred scalp held strips of hair, while the flesh beneath bubbled. Her one remaining eye was barely functional, blurred and drying through the cracked skin.
She was a nightmare. A creature dragged from the depths of the darkest magic, a thing of horror. And by their expressions alone—filled with pity and disgust—she could tell they wanted her put down. Not just as a punishment, but as a mercy.
Her chest tightened with rage. A dark fire whispered vengeance. She envisioned blood, chaos, and the crumbling of their power. Unleashing her magic, she would tear down the opulent walls and drown their judgmental stares in flames. Butthe spark faded. Giving in would be too costly. Not just for her, but for every witch who dreamed of freedom. She couldn’t allow that.
She wasn’t meant for endless killing. Only for those who had driven her to the brink - her father and Vivienne. Now, darkness consumed her. Death seemed to be the only solution. If it meant protecting others, she was willing to die by their hands. Magnolia’s lesson on Tempestum and its witches confirmed this, as no witch with that power has ever used it for good.
The king sat unmoving on his throne. His red hair, shoulder-length and glistening under the weight of his crown, fell like rivulets of fire across his shoulders. His gaze snapped to the soldiers holding her. “What happened? Is this the one who murdered the family?”
The words “murdered the family” cut through the air like a blade. The clinking of the chains around her wrists echoed louder now, the sound amplifying the suffocating silence of the room before the soldiers spoke. Apparently, her stepsisters hadn’t been found since they ran screaming, their whereabouts unknown after the chaos.Cowards, she thought bitterly. They deserved worse.
And there he was—Max.
His name echoed in her mind, as if etched into her soul. His emerald eyes met hers, narrowing the world to just the two of them. The bond between them remained undeniable. However, did he know? Could he see beyond her horrific transformation? Or did he only perceive her as a monster, a threat?
They explained that Sin was a witch, who had clearly used her magic to kill. The king narrowed his eyes at her in question, his gaze like a dagger trying to pry open her secrets.
Sin’s rage festered within the darkness inside her. It was too much. Like a fucking disease, the fever wouldn’t break.
“Just get on with it,” she croaked, her eyes narrowing as she met the king’s gaze. There was no fear there, only fury. If she was going to die, she would not do so begging.
The king snorted. “As you wish. Execute the witch,”
The soldiers tugged at her arms, their grip unyielding, when a voice cut through the air—a single, commanding shout, “NO!”
