The Chronicles of Onyx: Book 1

Chapter Thirteen

The morning light spilled through gaps in the curtains, casting a warm glow on the carpet floor. In the peaceful silence of the room, Onyx was left alone on the edge of her bed, lost in thought. The previous event still echoed in her mind, and she couldn't shake off the feeling of uncertainty that had settled in her heart.

Her encounter with Rok had left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. She had always been cautious about revealing too much about herself, and yet, Rok's persistence had cracked open the door to her secrets. The weight of her hidden abilities burdened her, but yet, she knew she couldn't keep them locked away forever.

She glanced at the iron cuffs that kept her a prisoner from her raw power. As the years passed, she felt herself growing more vulnerable, weaker, with each passing day. However ordinary they looked, the Queen's power was intertwined, overriding her own.

With a heavy sigh, Onyx stood up and walked to her small balcony, overlooking the castle grounds. The sun set high over the horizon, painting the sky in a light shade of blue. Traders were already setting up stands to sell their goods, their voices carrying through the morning air. The bustling activity below was a stark contrast to the turmoil that swirled within her.

She leaned against the railing, feeling the cool morning breeze against her skin. "Why am I here?" she whispered to herself, echoing the question that had plagued her since she was a child.

Onyx had been raised as a gladiator, trained to fight and kill without any remorse. It was a brutal and merciless existence, and she had done whatever it took to survive. But now, in the castle of the very Queen who had held her captive, she had been given a chance to see clearly. The Queen had done what she had wanted, she made a strong, strategic killer. One that could wield both weapons and Magik. The question was, why now? Why let her roam the castle now? What war did the Queen start that she could not finish on her own? This was the question Onyx pondered.

-ooooo-

Rok's heart continued to race, the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him like a hurricane on a clam sea. Anger, betrayal, confusion–he didn't know how to process Onyx's revelation. The word 'necromancer' echoed in his mind, conjuring up images of dark Magik and forbidden, evil magik. He felt a deep sense of unease, as if the person he thought he knew had become a stranger before him.

As the hours passed, Rok found himself wandering aimlessly through the castle, trying to make sense of everything. The initial anger had subsided, leaving behind the senses of confusion and hurt. He wanted to talk to Onyx. To understand–well he wasn't sure why he wanted to. In a way he felt in his heart she was innocent to the evil that lurked within her.

"She's seemed so bright, so pure." Rok thought to himself, as though he didn't fully believe such innocents could be capable of such evil.

In the distance, he spotted a familiar figure standing by the castle walls, their gaze fixed on a painting of a white dragon surrounded by a pack of vicious wolves. It was Onyx, lost in thought, seemingly contemplating the artwork before her. Rok's heart ached at the sight of her.

Summoning his courage, Rok approached her slowly, his emotions still raw from the earlier confrontation. "You weren't going to tell me, were you?" he asked, his voice tinged with hurt and frustration.

"No, because you didn't need to know," Onyx answered, her tone remained cold and collective, her eyes never leaving the dragon painting. She seemed to be guarding her emotions carefully, protecting herself from further vulnerability.

"I may not have needed to know, but that doesn't mean I don't want to understand," Rok said, trying to keep his voice gentle despite the maelstrom of feelings inside him.

Onyx sighed softly, her shoulders tense, but she finally turned to face him. "It's not just about what I can do, Rok," she admitted, her voice tinged with disbelief. "It's about the darkness that lurks within me, the shadow of myself I can't control." She snapped slightly, but seemed to stop herself as though realizing how sharp her tone was.

"Then I am thankful that I now know," Rok finished firmly, He turned away, beginning to leave her alone when he stopped suddenly in his tracks. A question, a thought, nagged at him. "One last thing, Onyx," Rok started, finding Onyx staring back at him intensely.

"Can you read minds?" There was a momentary pause she stayed quiet as if pondering rather or not she would tell him the truth. "Yes, I can," she began slowly, "But these cuffs confine my power" she finished holding up her arms showing him the iron cuffs that bound her abilities.

Nodding in satisfaction, Rok turned away, thoughts swirling inside him. "So, the real question is... what does the Queen need a necromancer for?"