Chronicles of Legends

Volume 6 Chapter 5 - Cynthia Goodsky

[NA/N: Yo guys, enjoy the steamy chapter here!]

|Virion|

A bloodcurdling scream abruptly shattered the stillness, jerking me awake from an unintended slumber at my desk. Startled, I swiftly rose from my chair and hastened out of my study, narrowly avoiding colliding with a guard racing towards the source of the shriek.

"Elder Virion," he saluted, skidding to a halt in front of me.

"What is happening?" I scanned the surroundings, observing other guards swiftly converging in a single direction.

"I'm uncertain, Elder. The scream appeared to originate from a floor below," he replied, his voice tinged with urgency.

"There should be no one there—Anna!" I gasped, realization striking me. The only occupied chamber directly beneath this level was Cynthia's room, with Anna attending to her needs.

The guard's eyes widened, comprehending the gravity of the situation, and without hesitation, he dashed downwards. I followed closely behind, pushing through the throng of armored guards. Arthur's family stood outside the room, their gazes fixated on the scene within. All eyes were fixed on the interior.

Raising my gaze, my heart froze at the sight just a few paces ahead.

"No...," I uttered, my voice faltering as I staggered forward, unable to accept what lay before my eyes.

"H-How? Who?" My words stumbled, mirroring Anna's bewildered expression as she shook her head in disbelief.

Dizziness overwhelmed me, drowning out the cacophony of noise and whispers surrounding me. Despite the chaos, I managed to take another step, only for my legs to buckle beneath me, and I collapsed against the edge of the bed.

Cynthia Goodsky rested serenely in her bed, her arms resting gently at her sides, covered by a delicate white sheet. However, protruding from her chest was an ominous, jet-black spike, drenched in blood. Her blood.

An incomprehensible wail tore from the depths of my being as I sank to my knees, clutching onto the frigid, lifeless hand of my dear, departed friend.

After I was done swimming in my anguish, I turned back to see Gary looking coldly at the scene, no emotions visible on his face at what had transpired.

"Gary," I managed to utter, my voice trembling, "Did you have knowledge of this impending tragedy?"

Gary Whiteborn, the prodigious genius who had graced Dicathen with his presence, also held the position of commander of the Dicathen army during the war. He wielded a power and influence that I dared not challenge, fully aware of his uncanny ability to manipulate both elven and human factions.

A monstrous force, both in his combat prowess and his authoritative standing.

Yet, such considerations no longer held any significance for me.

Gary let out a weary sigh, his amethyst eyes remaining devoid of emotion, as he responded, "I foresaw this outcome. The Vritras would never permit a traitor to divulge information, even under the weight of a curse. However, fret not. Her sacrifice was not in vain. We have obtained crucial intelligence, and I shall exploit it to secure victory."

I hung my head low, unable to find the right words to respond. It was a familiar feeling, knowing all too well how little regard Gary held for anyone besides his family and his fiancée, Kathyln.

The extent of his indifference was chilling, a stark reminder that he would willingly sacrifice anyone to safeguard himself and his loved ones.

"Virion," his voice cut through the air, snapping me out of my thoughts, "Remember your place. This time, I shall overlook the surge of killing intent emanating from you."