The Hidden Heir's Love

4: Mission

She flung her sword one after the other, slicing their backs since she does not want them to see her. On her way, she feels their blood squirting on her. They did not fight back nor did they even turn their heads when the others are getting killed, grunting in every pass of her blade. Her eyes were directly on the woman in the middle—on the one that has her head held high on the glass dome where the moon shines brightly on her face as if the gods are specifically illuminating the woman for her to kill.

She did not hesitate nor did she flinch upon the sight of the dead bodies around them until there is no one left but Aliyah, nobody else uttering her prayers.

The woman slowly opened her eyes—deep blue orbs darted directly at her and she does not even look horrified at her presence and at what she has done. The woman might have expected this end to come and now that her killer is here, she accepts it without a fight. She has never encountered someone who would willingly give her life for the benefit of others—because her death is an advantage to the other Houses and she seemed to accept that fact without a problem.

"Aliyah Druscilla, bastard Princess of the King of Sinag, you are charged to die by the House of Aldaine for you are no ruler and no right to be one."

She raised her sword and was ready to cut her neck when the woman suddenly spoke—her voice so soft that it slightly deterred her resolve. "You look pained," the woman said. "Not physically but here." Pointing at her heart. "You have long been suffering and even if you want to, you still cannot get out."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" she hissed, not lowering her sword but curious about what the woman wanted to say.

"You are a follower and that is what you are trained for. You have never done something for yourself, always on the benefit of your Master."

Her breathing hitched when the woman suddenly grabbed her hand. Instead of shoving it away, she just looked at it, frowning as she started to feel things she has never felt before—Remorse? Guilt? Mercy?

What has she done?

"When are you going to free yourself, Sierra Gauthier?"

She stared at her blue eyes—so deep and haunting that they felt hollow.

Hollow.

Something inside her snapped and in a blink of an eye, whatever she felt a while was gone. She felt empty all over again, driven by her mission and

"Just as I thought," the woman said, letting go of her and taking a step away from her.

Accepting her fate, Aliyah raised her hands and closed her eyes. Sierra, on the other hand, gritted her teeth and without hesitating anymore, flung her sword at the woman. Her head tumbled to the floor before her body dropped, now incomplete.

Sierra closed her eyes, inhaling deeply—smelling the blood all around her. Her heart was beating erratically, her senses were heightened in such a manner of great alertness around her.

“It needed to be done,” she kept on repeating, convincing herself.

Even when there is no one else but her and the dead, she cannot rest her mind. Surrounded by women wearing their white clothes that are now stained with their own blood, she wore black, standing in the middle with the moonlight on her face.

It was a great sight to behold.

White and black.

Pure and evil.

Saint and sinner.

And no matter how much she longs to feel for something in this grave sight, to feel the emotions she had a while ago when Aliyah held her, unfortunately, she could not have anything.

It was all blank.

Grabbing Aliyah's head, her vision is getting all blurry, the poison was kicking in. She carried it outside where all their men gathered as her twin started out a fire on the pile of corpses. She saw Lord Archie—the Head of the family of Druscilla—and he does not look at all shaken nor did he react when she threw Aliyah's head in front of him.

"The bastard Princess is dead," she said. "You have been taking care of her for so long, my lord. It is time that the gods do that responsibility now."

“The gods shall curse you. They will never help you if you asked for them, they will never bless you,” Lord Archie hissed, his voice groggy yet still holding deep conviction.

“The gods have already abandoned us if it is still not obvious what is happening with our kingdom now,” Kierran stated, walking towards her and stood on her side. “Your whole clan is dead now, Lord Archie. Do you have anything else to say other than the gods cursing us?”

The old man spit on Kierran’s feet and her brother merely laughed as if to mock the man more.

“Is that all you can do?”

“You are mere puppets of Sergio. He will dispose of you all when he does not need you anymore. That is how selfish and uncaring that man is and yet you still support him so blindly.

Kierran did not listen to him and walked to Aliyah’s head, retrieving it in front of Lord Archie. He crouched and moved the head closer to the old man’s face.

“See this?” her brother asked. “This is what Lord Sergio wants and if it is still not obvious, we are good at doing our jobs so why would he dispose of us?”

He puts down Aliyah’s head back on the ground and then grabbed the Lord up without any hint of gentleness. He brought him to the stairs to the main entrance and turned him on his back. She did not have to look at what was happening. She just listened to the Lord's screams and the sound of flesh being sliced.

She grabbed Aliyah's head and covered it with a cloth before handing it to one of their men. "Give it to Lord Sergio," she said before turning to face what Kierran is doing now.

Lord Archie has his back all skinned. The man was not making any sound anymore and it was enough for them to know that he is dead. Kierran grabbed the man's hair before slicing his neck with one go, his body setting apart from the one Kierran is holding. Just like with Aliyah, Kierran covered Archie's head with a cloth and handed it to another man.

"It's done, sister," he said, walking towards her while looking at the fire.

Her eyes were already closed as she stood there, feeling the heat and smelling death right on her nose.

"Burn the place down," she ordered and the others immediately went with it.

There are only a few of them left and it is understandable since Druscilla has a few Ascended with them, other than their lethal weapons. But then, even when they are not blessed because of the civil war and that no Holy Ones dare enter the kingdom for they do not want to get involved with their affairs, they are still great warriors. They are trained to match Ascended’s and this is what they have been preparing for years.

"Let them handle the fire and see to it that the place is all but ashes," Kierran said, taking her arm and she hissed when he touched her wound.

Her brother's eyes widened. "You're hurt."

"No," she said firmly. "I am not, Kierran,” she hissed as she looked at the others, making certain that no one else was listening.

It is not a good image if their leader is hurt while they are not. It is not the best example and her brother knows it. They are not supposed to show any weakness to people around them—only to each other.

Kierran gritted his teeth before whistling and his horse immediately went beside him. "You need to find a cure for that, Sierra," he whispered. "Don't go tough on me. We both know you're going to die if you do not pay any attention."

He helped her go up on the horse and she nodded at her brother. "I will go to Alhalla.”

“The Seer will not take you in,” Kierran hissed. “He does not just take anyone in randomly.”

“I have to try. He is the only one who would know the cure for this bloody wound.” She groaned but she kept it low. Her brother held her hand tightly, waiting for her to recover from the surge of pain and when she did, she looked straight at the same eyes as hers. “Don't follow me. I'll be back."

The horse started to gallop and she lets it move with determination. She moved past destroyed establishments and properties so plenty that she lost count of how many was it. The destruction stretches for a long mile and she was starting to feel weak, her heart beating so slow that she could not breathe normally anymore.

She does not really know if she is going the right way but she heard stories of men seeking refuge in that place and they said that they went through the battleground where the rivaling families fought for the first time. Therefore, that is where she is heading.

Reaching a slope, the horse did not dare on going any further—too frightened to even go down that steep path. She gets down, falling on the animal ungracefully before she crawled her way to the cliff. Without hesitation, she let herself roll to reach the ground below faster. But when she was able to reach it, she has no more strength to raise herself anymore. She lay still on the field where corpses lie and their foul smell entering her nostrils, thinking that mayhap she would be the same thing as them.

She would die here, rot here.

Never had she thought that this is where she will have her end.

She thought she would die in a great battle where she brings great glory in exchange for her death and her name will be told far more exemplary in stories told around the mainland of Athrien. But she is here, catching her breath because of a damn poison that is seeping in through her system.

Her eyes were starting to close but her senses were still alert and she could hear footfalls before something shifted beside her. She tried to open her eyes again and her mouth parted when she saw the moon above her and then the blue orbs staring down at her.

"Good evening, Miss. You are badly hurt. Let me take you to our home," he said, his voice deep and manly yet he was respectful and gentle.

She closed her eyes with the thought of him.