Chapter Text
A shadowy silhouette can be seen within their peripheral vision. Velvety cloak covering his larger frame, and his face a black void. However, Nyx knows better than to stop in their tracks to observe the figure longer.
With broken breaths and faltering determination, they still kept on pushing.
Nyx.
You need to run.
Don’t let any of them catch you.
Beads of sweat forms on their face, their wet hair sticking to corners of their flushed cheeks. They received no cue, all they heard is their worried mother, grasping their hand and making an escape to the backdoor of their home. Nyx has just woken up from their slumber, and before long, they are faced with a life-or-death situation.
“Damn it…” Nyx whispered under their breath. Their black-walled palace is now engulfed in voracious flames. The warm, comfortable room they once lived in, torn apart to ashes, and the additional rooms are crumbling apart as their supports are burnt down. Die Diamante’s centuries-old landmark and the residence of the monarchs is now a mountain of cinders.
The Diamond’s, since any civilisation even began, is ruled by the Feiders. Head pieces adorned with bright jewels and extravagant dark-themed clothing has always been their aesthetic. However, the issue of missing persons cases is always prevalent, and this time the villagers have finally joined all the dots.
“BURN THEM ALL! BURN THOSE BLOOD-SUCKING MONSTERS!”
Nyx watches as their Family gets brutally attacked by the people whom they’ve always ruled over with peace. What is happening? They are separated from their Mother and Father, what will be of them when the whole ‘fiasco’ ends? There he is, the King, with his long and luscious hair, with slashes and wounds all over his severely malnourished body. Lysander Feider is a weak man, while his wife, Medea Holle, is his pillar of strength, but even in this time, she could not reach him. Nyx watched their mother get taken away by a group of rebels, as the rioters tied the King to a large stake, burning every damned limb of his.
Screams echo through the once dim-lit streets of Adamas, the capital of Die Diamantis, as every Feider Family member is stabbed through their chest, or punctured through their abdomen. Black blood spills out of every one of them, as each vampire falls onto the ground, groaning in pain, before having their heads crushed by the weapons that each rioter is armed with.
“THERE IS THE PRINCE! HOLD HIM DOWN!” The rioters are starting to charge and aim towards the feeble boy.
Everything around Nyx is happening so quickly, but they are out of energy to even react. Suddenly, they feel a firm hand grab their forearm tightly, dragging them into a dark alley, reeking with a mild stench. A citrusy fragrance combats the smell, attempting to soothe the traumatised soul of the young royal.
The figure cups Nyx’s mouth with his hand, holding their body tight within his cloak, radiating his warmth all over them. They are helpless, unable to assist their Family at such a tough time, but they are also weak to the bright light of fire. But at last, they are finally in a secure spot to lash out, releasing all those complex emotions that they had to suppress as they were overwhelmed with adrenaline. Muffled sobs can be heard from the alley, but the commotions on the main streets deafened it.
“Hold it in. Don’t let them find you, not now at least.”
Nyx knows whose embrace they are in, after all, his height and strength matches the approximation of that shady figure they caught a glimpse of. The man has been silently chasing after them, as the crowd drew no attention to him, and now the two of them are crammed in between two walls.
Nyx’s back is pressed up against the anterior of the faceless figure, but his grip is still tightening, almost suffocating. They are too exhausted to try to break free, and their vocal cords have already given out, but uncontrollably, their tears continue flowing.
“I’m sorry Nyx. Please, just stop struggling. I promise I don’t want to hurt you.”
The distant familiarity of the voice shocks Nyx. The frequency, the vibrations of every soundwave feels comforting, but in this dystopia-like situation, the possibility that they might be hallucinating is high. With a cold hand over the lower half of their face, loud noises and basically a veil of darkness around their tired, blurry vision, Nyx’s intuition is that they may not make it out alive.
“Nyx… hey… stay with me now…”
…
“Here, your Majesty… please hold on tight to th-…”
“I will. Hey, before you go-...”
Their voices circled around in Nyx’s fuzzy head, they were like static, or even a faint noise by their ear. The low voice of the faceless stranger and a sweet, mellow voice of a woman. Every memory of the incident is truncated prematurely. Right after, their eyes jolt open, and their entire body flinches. The focus of the pain is on their left forearm, and even with their blurry, fragmented vision, they can see thick black fluid flow out. Nyx starts to feel faint, but their back is still supported steadily by a strong arm.
“I’m sorry, my child…”
They are aware that they lost their consciousness, as they float in an endless sea of darkness. They feel a shortness of breath, but oxygen is no longer their necessity. Each exhale given out carries no bubble, and each inhale taken in never fills their lungs with fluid. They feel their hair floating weightlessly under the water, as they try to swim to the surface, just to find an infinite tapestry of nothingness. What just happened?
As for the faceless stranger, he takes in the full scene with both his eyes. A hopeful mother holding on tight to her son, as she pleads and begs with her own kind to not hurt them. Torches and weapons surrounded the two, but none of them were ever raised. She knows, as a human, they will sympathise with her, but her own child, an amalgamation of destruction, may not be spared. She knows that Family Crest from hell imprinted upon their left arm symbolises their loyalty to this accursed bloodline, and hence scarred them permanently. All she desires is for her only offspring to be set free, and that is all that fueled her vitality, before she succumbed to the loss of her beloved husband.