Sins of Lust Filled love Pt 9

Death of the Biard family Warning: Intense Violence and Disturbing Imagery reader descretion is advised

-Betrothed-

Sins of Lust Filled Love

Part 9

"Run," Kyna whispered, slowly backing her way back up the stairs. "I left the hidden door open." The throne room doors were thrown open. "Run, Ciaran!"

Ciaran was yanked behind his sister and shoved towards the door. "What about you Ki?!"

Kyna shook her head. "Don't worry about me, you just get away." You're more important she finished to herself. Her parents loved her yes, but they would never forgive her if she let something happen to Ciaran, he was the heir, she was the back up plan. It didn't matter that she was older, Ciaran was male, and in her family the men got everything.

"Run," She repeated more forcefully, pulling a long sword from beside the throne. "Go now!" She hissed.

"But Ki-!"

"Stop arguing and go!" She quickly turned and gave her brother a hug. "I love you." Then she shut the door, cutting Ciaran off from whatever was happening on the outside.

"Ki!" Ciaran slammed his weight against the door but it was locked shut, she must have put something in front of it to keep him from going back out. "D****t!" He punched the wall. "D****t." Ciaran slipped down the wall, he was shaking, he was afraid, he didn't know what was happening or why it was happening and he didn't even know if he'd get out of it alive and he was just so scared, so, so, so, scared.

"Shep...," He whimpered, silent tears falling from his face, tears he didn't even realize had been falling until he felt his breath hitch and escalate; the wind felt cold on his face.

Oh god! He needed him here right now, he needed his warmth, his level headed thinking, Ciaran was freaking out right now and e knew that at a time like this it was the opposite thing to do. The young prince took a breath. What would Shep do? Ciaran smiled and looked down at the ring on his finger, feeling new strength surge through him at the thought. That was easy, he'd kick their asses is what.

The young prince wiped his eyes and stood up, determined, and ran down the corridor. First thing he had to do was get out of these blasted tunnels, he really should've paid more attention to their layout when he was initially taught them, these stupid things were more up Kyna's alley than his own.

Ciaran swiped a torch from the wall and took a left, walking up a set of spiral steps before finally finding himself in front of another door. He paused, placing the torch in its holder and brushing his hair out of his hair. He didn't know what part of the castle he was in and he didn't know how far spread whatever this... invasion? Coup? Had gone. He hated not knowing, but at the same time he was kind of glad that the stone walls were thick enough to block any sounds that he might have heard. He didn't think he could've withstood all the suffering that was doubtless happening outside at this very moment.

The young prince placed an ear against the door and slowed his breathing to something less panicked, letting the adrenaline coursing through his system to fade away. He bit his lip and waited; he knew his sister would probably want him to just stay in the tunnels until things quieted down, until someone found him and led him out, but he couldn't do that, there was no telling who would find him and there was no telling how long "wait it out" would take. So, hearing nothing, he pushed open the door and walked into the room.

Big mistake.

Outside where two armed guards, guards that didn't belong to his family, guards that donned a strange crest on their breast plate that he had never seen before. Ciaran gasped and tried to step back into the tunnels, but it was too late, they'd already seen him, how couldn't they? It's not like it's easy to open a stone door silently.

"Is that... ?" The first asked, his voice heavy with an accent Ciaran had never heard before.

"Yeah, I think so, looks like the kid in the portrait." The second replied, slowly creeping forward. "Do we kill him?"

Ciaran backed away from the door and slowly started moving to the window, maybe then he could figure a way out...

"No, Thyme wants him alive, don't know why."

"Of course not you numbskull, we're only good enough to die for him, not dine with him."

That was the first time he'd heard that name, Thyme, and it wouldn't be the last, but even before he knew what the man could do that name instilled a fear in him he didn't comprehend, sending shivers of ice through his blood.

"Oh, boy, I wouldn't do that if I were you, tis a long way down." The second soldier said to him, noticing that he was slowly creeping towards the window.

Ciaran ignored him and kept moving towards the window, no longer trying to hide his advances, he wasn't going to go anywhere with those scumballs. From what he could gather, he was on the second or maybe even third floor of one of the castle towers, it would be risky, but he could still survive the drop... assuming he could grab onto one of the ledges without popping his arm out of its socket and climb down from there.

Each of the towers had inconspicuous footholds for just these moments. Granted there were no restraints, and they hadn't been kept in the best condition so they could easily break under the sudden weight, but it was the only option he had. So he kept retreating. By this time his back was against the window, and he stealthily unlocked it.

"Okay little princeling, get away from there, we aren't going to hurt you, Thyme wants you alive remember."

Ciaran shivered, there was that name again. He shook his head. "Like hell, b***h." Then, he jumped.

The tower zoomed by him and Ciaran flailed, desperately trying to find purchase on one of the ledges quickly approaching. Time was moving to fast for him, the ground coming up to soon, he feared death in that moment, he thought he'd made a grave error, but then... he caught a edge.

Ciaran's arm screamed in agony, and white hot pain seared through his shoulder as it was wrenched out of its socket. The young prince let out a cry of pain as his body slammed into the wall, feeling the bone disconnect bone, tendons ripping, ribs cracking, head bleeding, skin inflaming at the sudden impact, and quickly brought the other arm up beside it, trying, with all his might, to pull himself up with one arm. He was almost there, almost able to move to the first of the foot holds when...

The ledge broke.

Ciaran gasped, and flew back, now too far away to grab onto anything, he grabbed at air, always coming away empty and screamed. He had been so close, so close to breaking free but... it wasn't to be was it? He was going to die.

It was a strange feeling falling like this, it seemed that now everything was slowing down, like now that the world knew that Ciaran had excepted his fate that it wanted to drag it out, toy with him as long as possible.

Everything seemed crystal clear in that moment, he could see the cracks in the tower wall, he could see the tiny droplets of water dripping off miniscule blades of grass, up, down, left right, he was seeing everything and nothing at once. All was revealed to him in that moment, and... for some reason he didn't think it was weird. It felt natural, like second nature. There was an unspoken question in that moment a clarity, a question he had about four seconds to answer.

Do you want to live?

"I don't want to die," He whispered.

Ciaran looked down to see a figure... a figure that seemed to be... nodding?

Images flashed through his mind, scenes of gruesome clarity, of sickening realism and revulsion. Images to disturbing to be fake. He saw a large man with hair so blonde it almost looked white standing over his family, slowly killing them, one by one, getting more gruesome with each death.

Limbs were removed, hearts ripped out, screams pierced the air, and skin flew in ribbons around them. He didn't know how that man was doing this, how he mutilated his family with just a touch. A touch was all it took, just a simple touch, and then his father disintegrated destroyed beyond recognition, nothing more than a bubbling mass of blood and goo. Just a touch and his mother was aged before his eyes, her cries of agony as her skin rebelled against her, her bones cracking, her skin flaking, eyes sinking into their sockets, her body curling in on itself until, with a crack she broke into dust, into nothing. Just a touch, one lazy touch, and he saw his sister's skin peel off her back, curling off her fingers as if she had been placed against a giant grater. She screamed and screamed even after all of it lay around her and she was nothing but an exposed mass of muscle and blood.

Thyme turned and looked up at him. His eyes meet Ciaran's, it was impossible considering they weren't even in the same building but they did. Those golden eyes registered his existence, he knew Ciaran could see them, he knew this and made a spectacle out of his families death. He was toying with them, torturing them for his own sick amusement and Ciaran's own disturbance.

Ciaran wished he could close his eyes but that didn't matter the images weren't playing without him, they came from within, from some hidden place he didn't know existed. Kyna had stopped screaming at this point, just looked blank, unmoving; you wouldn't even have known she was alive if not for the faint rise and fall of her chest. Thyme smirked and snapped his fingers.

Kyna's eyes widened and Ciaran watched in horror as the skin around her stomach began to spiral, circling around and around, her body being sucked into some invisible spiral. She screamed, "Get it out!" and screamed, "Get it out of me!" she clawed at her stomach, ripping at it, "Get it out! Get it out! Get it out!" She was beyond caring now, the pain was too much she cracked she cried her tears red with blood, stomach acid running down her front, burning her legs. The spiraling stopped. Kyna Biard, the last living relative he had, was dead.

He felt tears well in his eyes, he felt like he was going to be sick, but he couldn't puke he couldn't do anything but see, and for once he wished nothing more for himself than to be blind. To not be able to see. But then it stopped, just like that it was over. Thyme dropped his bloody hands to his sides, his sword not even leaving its sheath, a crimson pool spreading around his feet.

Thyme pointed. You, it said. You. This is all your fault. Ciaran tried to cry, he tried to feel something, to make his body react but he couldn't, he could only float there slowly falling.

Do you still wish to live? A new voice. A woman's voice.

Ciaran steeled himself. "Yes." His voice came out strong in his head. He felt something in him die in that moment, some inherent good, some innocence, but he was willing to lose that, willing to lose it all if it gave him a chance at revenge.

When Life's own crest doth Death now wear

Misery shall spread itself through the air

Cataclysm and Curse shall intertwine

Until they form a single vine

Hate and Thanatos, their rules they now break

In hopes that their offspring can offset this quake

Events unfold that none can answer

Until Death's own child makes Life its Master

The words played in his head like a mantra, searing themselves into his mind, as hot as brand, unforgettable, and he fell, faster and faster, the world blurring the ground coming up to meet him, shifting, opening, groaning under the force around, a static electricity like a vibration of life running from everything to that one spot directly below Ciaran.

The young prince screamed.

Shadow engulfed him.

Nothing remained.

-Betrothed-

Author's Note

Let it be said that my 12 year old sister read this and wasn't disturbed if anyone thinks the rating should be higher for this chapter.

Anyway tell me what you think~