His Cursed Bloodline

The halls of the Obsidian Court were quiet and cold. Under the long ceiling lights were shining marble floors with tall statues of past rulers who had ruled the kingdom before them.

Even with the stone stature, their faces looked calm, but their empty eyes were looking alive, following anyone who walked past. Elara walked through the corridor beside her brother.

Their footsteps echoed softly as they walked towards the door. She adjusted the light shawl around her shoulders and glanced at him.

"It's been six days, Valerius," she said.

Her voice was calm, but there was worry in it.

"Six days since she last came to the family table. Even with Father's quarantine rules, that seems a bit much, don't you think?"

Valerius didn't look at her. He was fixing his cufflinks as he walked; his movements were neat and full of pride.

"She's a walking trouble, Elara," he said flatly. "Why would you want to be around her?"

Elara frowned. "She's our sister."

Valerius let out a small breath of annoyance. "She's a drain," he continued. "Every time she enters a room, the atmosphere changes. The lights go out, and the air feels so tense to the point even the staff complain about it."

He finally looked at her. "The entire place feels darker when she's around."

Elara stopped walking for a moment. "That doesn't mean she deserves to be locked away," she said quietly.

"She's still a person."

Valerius stopped too. Slowly, he turned toward her with cold looks in his eyes. He wasn't angry, just dismissive.

"She is a mistake of nature," he said.

The words landed harder than a slap. "She exists only to drain energy from people who actually matter. Thinking about her is a waste of your time."

Elara's fingers tightened around the edge of her shawl.

"Focus on your studies," Valerius continued. "Or Father will find something else to keep you busy."

His voice dropped slightly. "Something you may enjoy a lot less."

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away toward the Great Hall. Elara stood alone in the corridor and watched him go.

Valerius was the perfect son and the future king. He was confident, sharp, and cold. Exactly like their father.

****

The council meeting in the Great Hall ended quickly. They had discussed politics, trade, border control, and the usual things, so there was no reason for a drag.

When everyone else left, Valerius stayed behind with King Malakor. Father and son walked side by side through the palace, but they didn't head toward the gardens or the training wing.

Instead, they moved deeper into the building, down a long staircase. Then another with the air growing colder the further they went.

Finally, they reached a steel door at the end of a narrow hallway; above it was a small metal sign: SUNLESS CHAMBER

Valerius pressed a code into the keypad, and the door unlocked with a heavy click. Inside was not exactly a prison, but it wasn't comfortable either.

The room was small and empty, the metal walls covered with strange carved symbols and special runes designed to suppress magic. The air was dry and still, as if it were meant to suffocate whoever was there.

On a low bench against the wall sat the princess. She looked smaller than usual. Her dark hair was tied back loosely, and her skin looked pale under the soft yellow light of a single wall lamp.

She didn't look up when they entered. King Malakor stepped into the room first; his presence filled the space immediately.

He looked down at her like someone inspecting broken equipment. "The kingdom continues to grow stronger," he said calmly.

His voice echoed off the metal walls. "And yet here you are."

The princess remained silent. Malakor tilted his head slightly.

"Still draining the life out of every room you enter."

Her hands tightened slowly in her lap. "I didn't ask to be put here," she said quietly.

Valerius leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms. "You're here because you're dangerous," he said.

His tone was bored, almost casual.

"Father is actually being generous by keeping you alive and comfortable."

He shrugged. "Most rulers would have thrown you out years ago."

The princess looked down at the floor.

"Or worse," Malakor added softly.

He walked closer to her, step by step. Until he was standing right in front of her. The princess could feel the cold around him; it came from powerful magic that he had taken from others.

"You know what people say about you?" he asked.

"They call you the Silent Princess." He smiled faintly. "They say the world becomes quiet when you walk into a room."

The girl finally looked up. Her eyes looked tired, like she had spent years holding a heavy burden all by herself.

"They don't know the truth," Malakor continued.

"They don't know you are a parasite."

"I am not a parasite," she whispered.

Her voice shook slightly. "I'm just... me."

Malakor's expression hardened. "That," he said slowly, "is the problem."

He turned to Valerius. "Leave us."

Valerius gave a small mocking bow. "As you wish, Father. Just be gentle with her; the screams are uncomfortable."

He stepped out into the hallway. The heavy door closed behind him with a loud metallic slam.

The sound echoed through the room, and the princess flinched.

She knew what came next; it was the ritual. The same thing that happened every week.

Malakor slowly removed the heavy cloak from his shoulders.

"Let's see how much power you've gathered this time," he said calmly.

He rolled up his sleeves; the runes on the walls flickered slightly.

The princess pressed her back against the wall; her heart was already racing.

She hated this part where he tried to pull the energy out of her. To force her power to leak so he could take it.