Chapter 44: Headless Servants

Zyren moved to stand directly in front of her, the blade in his hands gleaming menacingly beneath the glow of the hanging lamps that lined the marble-pillared hall. The steel caught the light like liquid silver, polished and cold—unforgiving. Aria’s eyes fixed on him, refusing to waver even as his towering frame loomed above her. He stared down at her without blinking, his gaze sharp, invasive—like a predator enjoying the moment before the kill. But it was his next words that shattered the fragile stillness in her mind. "Little flame..." he began, his voice almost soft, but dripping with venom. "Do you know who could have done such a thing?" Aria’s breath caught. His voice wasn’t kind. Not even mocking. It was cruel—layered with something dark and unmerciful, as though he were daring her to speak, just so he could punish her more thoroughly. His eyes were void of warmth, glowing dimly beneath his blood-slicked lashes, and in that moment, Aria truly believed he was prepared to dice her into ribbons. Then he asked the question. "Is it you?" He tilted his head slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching. It wasn’t a real question. They both knew the truth. But before Aria could open her mouth, before even the flicker of a reply could take shape on her tongue, Zyren abruptly turned his gaze away and addressed the entire room in a louder, more commanding voice. "It couldn’t be my pet!" he declared with venom-laced conviction. "She was with me throughout." His voice rang out like a whip, sharp and echoing. "Which means only one thing..." The atmosphere shifted. Instantly. His aura thickened like smoke, choking out what little sense of mercy might have remained. "All the servants that handled the food—bring them here!" The command thundered through the room. And the response was immediate. In mere moments, row after row of trembling servants had lined up in front of him—roughly twenty in all. Each one dropped to their knees without needing to be told, their faces pale, fear bleeding through every rigid posture. Zyren raised the blade casually and let it rest against his shoulder, the stained steel smearing blood across the fine fabric of his coat. He smiled, wide and red-toothed, the blood still clinging to his skin like a second skin. "Who was it?" he asked, now deadly serious. His expression was empty of all humanity, and no one in the room mistook the question as rhetorical. Not a single soul, least of all Aria. She watched it unfold with growing dread. There was no relief in the fact that he no longer stood in front of her. Only horror. She could see through his performance—see exactly what he was doing. And it turned her stomach. A sick weight settled in her chest, so heavy and cold it seemed to hollow out her ribs. Zyren pointed the blade at one of the servants. A young man. Eyes brown and clearly human. They both knew he was innocent. But that didn’t matter. And then she saw it—the glint in Zyren’s eyes. That flicker of darkness. Not just cruelty. Amusement. "Is it you?" Zyren asked as he moved the blade to rest gently atop the boy’s bowed head. The servant trembled violently, his entire body shuddering with panic as he stared down at the floor, unable to lift his eyes. "My... my..." he stammered, the terror choking his throat until words failed him entirely. Tears ran freely down his cheeks. Zyren’s hand tightened on the hilt. A dark smile spread across his blood-slicked lips. "I think it’s you." And without another word, he slashed the blade sideways—clean and brutal. The boy’s head hit the floor with a sickening thud, his body crumpling beside it like a puppet with its strings cut. Blood burst forth in a crimson wave, pooling fast across the marble. The silence that followed was absolute. Reverent. As if the room itself had gone still in fear. Aria was gutted. Paralyzed with horror. She couldn’t look away. Her eyes were glued to the lifeless body, to the gaping neck wound still spurting red. A look of stunned agony was frozen on the boy’s face, and it would haunt her. Her breath caught as she made to rise, to get to her feet—but then she froze. Zyren was watching her. And in that silent glance, he spoke volumes. "If you speak... I’ll do something much worse." The meaning sank into her bones. Not with words, but with cold, undeniable clarity. She fell back onto her knees, her limbs weak. Until now, death had been an idea—abstract. A punishment she had accepted with courage. But now... now it was real. Visceral. And it terrified her. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as Zyren turned away from her, raising the blade again. He swung it once through the air, scattering blood across the floor like droplets of ink. "He didn’t confess," he said lightly, as if stating something obvious. "Clearly it wasn’t him." There was no remorse in his voice. Not even disappointment. Just cold amusement. Still drenched in blood, he turned his gaze on the next servant in line—a woman. Already weeping, already begging. Her words tumbled out in desperate gasps, her hands clasped, body shaking. "My—my king! I swear!" she cried. "I would never do such a thing! I can’t!""I didn’t come close to your table—not the wine jug either!""I swear it on my son’s life that—" She didn’t get to finish. The blade pierced her chest straight through the heart. Zyren twisted, then carved her open, slicing her clean in half. The gore was unspeakable. Blood and viscera splattered the marble like paint, thick and hot. Even the guards flinched. A few pressed their backs to the nearest columns, clearly trying to remain invisible—trying to show they had never abandoned their post. The next servant was also a woman—her red eyes marked her as a vampire. But even she trembled, because she knew beheading wouldn’t be the end for her. Not under Zyren. He had a thousand ways to make her suffer. "My—my lord!" she cried, throwing herself forward, forehead pressed to the floor. "I did it! Have mercy!" Gasps rippled through the room. Aria’s heart stopped. She felt crushed beneath the weight of her guilt, her throat tightening so fiercely it hurt to breathe. Aria couldn’t understand what was going on and why she would lie until she saw someone gasp three people down the line. "Sister!" A young woman cried with the exact same features. Red-eyed and horrified, hands shaking as she stared at her sister. Her face twisted with disbelief, sorrow, terror...a myriad of emotions. It broke something in Aria. In that moment, she understood. The silence was no longer bearable. ’I’d rather die in the most gruesome way.’ That thought echoed in her mind as she began to rise—prepared to stand, prepared to speak. But before she could move fully upright, every lamp in the hall went out. One by one, the flames extinguished, plunging the entire room into absolute, suffocating darkness.