The Chronicles of Onyx: Book 1

Chapter Seventeen

Moonlight shone, casting its silvery glow upon the kingdom. The torches along the castle's borders flickered, creating dancing shadows that seemed to play with the night. Within the walls of the grand fortress, the castle's inhabitants went about their nighttime routines, each lost in their own thoughts and concerns.

Queen Demeter stood on her balcony, her eyes fixed on the moon above. The soft breeze caressed her wings, her mind was heavy with the weight of responsibility and the secrets she carried. The recent events had left her kingdom vulnerable, and she knew that she needed to make a decision. One that would affect greatly on the future of both the queen and her throne.

A war was on the rise, and she needed a loyal soldier, equally as powerful as the enemy she faced. Her mind drifted to the young necromancer, Onyx, who had yet to discover the full extent of her abilities. Onyx was not yet ready to be granted the freedom to practice such raw Magik, especially considering the vivid hatred she held towards Demeter. However, the time had come to uncuff Onyx, allowing her to embrace her true potential. The decision was not without risk, as it also meant releasing her from the cloaking spell that had kept her hidden, from the eyes of Dezenym.

-ooooo-

Queen Demeter paced back and forth in her throne room, her mind consumed by the weight of her decision.

Her violet eyes scanned the guards before her. "Find Onyx immediately and bring her to me," she commanded, her voice firm and unwavering. The guards bowed in obedience and swiftly departed to carry out their orders.

Within minutes, Onyx was brought before the queen, escorted by the guards who were clearly keeping a tight grip on her. They pushed her down, forcing her to bow before the queen.

"Leave us," Queen Demeter ordered her guards, dismissing them with a wave of her hand. "I wish to speak to Onyx alone." The guards bowed before leaving as the queen had wished.

"Why have you summoned me?" Onyx demandingly asked, her parsing wolf-like eyes embedding on the Queen.

Queen Demeter took a deep breath, knowing that the coming words would shape the fate of both her and her kingdom. "There is a war on the rise," she began, choosing her words carefully. "And I need a powerful ally by my side, someone who can match the enemy we face."

Onyx's eyes flickered with curiosity as she leaned forward, "What does this have to do with me?"

"I see great potential in you, Onyx," the queen replied. "But your powers need to be controlled, and guided. If you choose to fight on my behalf, I will grant you freedom from your past, and you will have my protection. However, your freedom comes with a condition. You will use your powers under my supervision, at least until you have mastered them."

Onyx's gaze hardened, considering the offer. "You want me to be your weapon, your little puppet?" she questioned, her voice tinged with defiance and sarcasm.

Queen Demeter shook her head. "No, Onyx. I want you to be my ally, a powerful force that stands with me, not as my puppet but as a partner. I need someone with your strength and abilities."

Onyx weighed the queen's words, feeling torn between her longing for freedom and the opportunity to make a difference. "If I agree," she said firmly, "you must release me from your clutches and remove these cuffs that bind me."

The queen nodded solemnly, acknowledging the condition. "Agreed," she said. "Once the war is won the cuffs will be removed, but for now you will begin training with my guidance."

Onyx nodded, her decision made. "Then I accept your offer," she said, her voice determined. "But know this, Queen Demeter, I will fight solely for my freedom, not for you."

The queen offered a small smile. "Then welcome to our alliance."

-ooooo-

Onyx followed Queen Demeter to the armory. It was the Queen that decided she should choose a weapon and begin wielding it. Breaking Onyx back to shape, doing the one thing she had done all her life. Fight and kill. It was a life of survival, living by the fate of your sword. But there was no one she would rather trust more than a well-crafted blade.

Her steps echoed through the stone halls. The armory was dimly lit, with racks of gleaming weapons lined the walls. The queen gestured to them, her eyes expectant. "Choose a weapon, Onyx," she said, her voice firm but not forceful. "Begin wielding it. Learn it, trust it."

Onyx's gaze swept over the array of arms before her, each one a deadly tool. However she had always let the weapon speak for itself, always letting the weapon choose her.

Finally, her eyes fell upon a beautifully crafted sword with a leather wrapped hilt. Its long, glimmering blade spoke to Onyx, as if calling her name aloud. She reached for it, studying the blade's every perfection, feeling an immediate connection with the blade. As she held the sword in her hands, a sense of familiarity washed over her. It was as if she had finally found a piece of herself that had been missing for so long. She began to move it through the air, feeling the weight and balance. Her movements were graceful, as the blade respond to her touch. Bending it's will into her own.

"I choose this one," she said, her voice strong and decisive.