SWNOVELXO Chapter 30: Chapter Thirty
Alaric's heart, a frozen stone in the moon's cold embrace, stuttered in his chest. The revelation struck him like the first rays of the sun—painful, illuminating. "Whose is it?" he asked, his voice as brittle as the ice that coated the river of Elysia.
Banesa's gaze fell to the floor, a silent confession that spoke louder than any words. "It is...of the Merchant," she murmured, her voice a whisper of regret.
"The Merchant," Alaric murmured, the name a shard of ice in his throat. "Tell me, Banesa. How could this be?"
Her eyes, a soft brown, searched his, a silent plea for understanding. "My prince," she whispered, her voice a gentle breeze. "The night of the masquerade, when thou didst dance with Isabella...I...was taken."
The revelation hit Alaric like a meteor, a fiery impact that shattered the icy fortress of his heart. He stood, his gaze a storm that could level mountains. "Taken?" he roared, his fury echoing through the chamber. "By whom?"
Banesa, her eyes a soft brown, whispered into the tempest of his rage. "Your father," she murmured, the words a leaf caught in the hurricane. "And...others."
The chamber, a grand symphony of shadows and moonlight, seemed to shudder at her revelation. The caws of the crows grew louder, a chorus of mockery that echoed through the hallowed halls of the Valente Manor.
"In exchange for my...compliance, your father and the Merchants bestowed upon me a sack of gold coins. They whispered that it was a gift, a token of their esteem."
Alaric's eyes, a glacial blue, narrowed, the fury within a tempest ready to unleash. "They dared," he growled, his words a thunderclap in the stillness.
Banesa, her gaze a soft brown, nodded solemnly. "They did," she murmured, the words a leaf fluttering in the storm.
The revelation struck Alaric like a bolt of lightning, a fiery arc that seared through the fabric of his being. His eyes, a glacial blue, searched hers, a tempest of emotion brewing within. "And you," he whispered, the words a frozen shard in the moonlit chamber. "What of the child?"
Banesa's gaze, a soft brown, grew steely with resolve. "I have tried," she murmured, her voice a melody of desperation. "The herbs, the potions, the ancient whispers—all have failed me." Her hand, trembling with the weight of her confession, hovered over her belly, a silent symphony of fear.
Alaric, the prince of the moonlit night, searched her eyes, a tempest of emotion roiling within him. "Fear not," he murmured, the words a warm embrace. "We shall seek out Nedya, the witch of the whispering woods. Her powers, they say, are as vast as the night sky."
The council, a tapestry of immortal whispers, murmured their assent. The ancient vampires, each with a name as intricate as the patterns of shadow and light —Elegia, Mordecai, and Thyrsus—bowed their heads in solemn respect.
Alex, the detective whose heart bore the scent of the sun, sat in his chamber, the walls whispering secrets of past glories and forgotten heartaches. The room was a sanctum of solitude, a bastion of thought amidst the maelstrom of the manor's grand design. He drew a deep breath, the scent of aged oak and the faint hint of Luna City's eternal moonlit night filling his lungs.
The pipe, a silent sentinel of comfort, was clutched between his calloused fingers. He packed the tobacco with a practiced ease, the rich, earthy scent a balm to his weary soul. The flame, a fiery waltz that seemed to mirror the tumult within him. The embers caught, and with a deep inhale, he released the first plume of smoke into the stillness.
Moyna awoke with a start, her eyes adjusting to the opulent surroundings of a chamber that smelled faintly of sandalwood and gardenia. The room, bathed in a soft, silvery light, was a stark contrast to the cold, damp cell she had last seen. Plush velvet curtains, as deep and mysterious as the night sky, framed windows that revealed the moon's waxing glow. Her heart raced in her chest like the hooves of a terrified deer, a symphony of panic and confusion.
The door to the chamber creaked open, a crescendo of dread in the otherwise silent night. A figure, tall and imposing, stepped into the room, his silhouette casting long shadows across the floor. "You're awake," he said, his voice a rich baritone that seemed to carry the weight of the world.
Moyna's eyes, a storm of fear and confusion, searched the room, her heart racing like the river in a tempest. "Where am I?" she whispered, her voice a tremulous thread in the tapestry of the night.
The figure, a silhouette of shadows and power, stepped closer, the moon's silver glow revealing his sharp features and piercing gaze. "You are where you are meant to be," he said, his voice a gentle rumble of thunder. "With me."
Moyna, the fiery nightfire torn from the night, felt the chains of fate tighten around her wrists. from the night, felt the chains of fate tighten around her wrists. "Why?" she whispered, her voice a trembling crescendo of fear and anger.
The millionaire, a man named Thaddeus Malakar, stepped into the moonlit chamber, his eyes gleaming like the coins that had bought her freedom. "You," he said, his voice a velvet whisper, "are to be my bride, my beacon in the dark."
Moyna stared at him with a mix of anger and disbelief. "You can't be serious," she spat, her voice a crescendo of defiance.
Thaddeus Malakar, a man whose heart was as cold as the moon's gleaming surface, offered a smile that was as warm as a serpent's embrace. "Oh, but I am, my dear," he said, his voice a rich baritone that seemed to wrap around her like a velvet shroud. "You see, I had an eye for you, a vision that grew more vivid with each passing night."
Moyna, whose heart was a tempest of rage, could not believe the words that were spun before her like a cobweb of deceit. "But why me?" she demanded, her voice a crescendo of anger and disbelief.