The Beast King’s Silent Healer

The bright, angry red runes burned across the stone floor, casting long, uneven shadows on the walls of the sealing chamber. Inside the unbearable heat of the inner sanctum, Emperor Darius Alkov dropped to his knees. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with the dark blood running from his nose. His veins pulsed violently beneath his skin, glowing with a strange dark light.

Break them all, a voice whispered inside his mind. It was deep, scraping against his skull like stone grinding against stone. Tear the flesh from their bones.

Let me out!

“Shut up,” Darius growled, his fingernails digging into the stone floor and leaving bloody marks behind.

“Go back into the darkness.”

You are weak, the voice mocked, pushing harder against his mind.

Let me have them.

The heavy iron door slowly opened at the top of the stairs, breaking the tense silence. A young palace guard stepped onto the podium, his spear shaking so badly that the metal tapped against his armor.

“Your Majesty?” the guard stammered, his eyes wide with fear. “The energy surge—we felt it all the way in the lower halls. The seal is…”

“Do not come closer!” Darius roared, his voice cracking with desperation. “Get out of here! Now!”

“But sire, the High Priest said…”

Kill him, the Beast hissed, rushing forward like a giant wave.

Darius lost control for a brief moment.

A wave of dark power exploded from his body like a bomb.

“Ah!” the guard screamed as the powerful shockwave lifted him off his feet and threw him hard against the stone wall. His metal spear crashed across the floor as he fell into a heap, groaning in pain.

Darius grabbed his head and screamed into the empty room as the red light flashed so brightly it filled the entire chamber.

“Stop it! Stop!”

Before the sound of his scream could fade away, the heavy doors burst open.

Queen Isolde stepped into the chamber, her long silk dress sweeping over the fresh ash on the floor. Her face was calm, making the chaos around her seem even worse. Behind her came High Priest Overn, gripping his holy staff tightly, and Commander Lucien, whose hand already rested firmly on the handle of his sword.

“Enough,” Isolde said.

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the heat like ice.

“Step away from him.”

Lucien quickly moved past her. His boots clicked sharply on the stone floor as he knelt beside the injured guard. He checked the man’s pulse and looked up at the Queen, his jaw tight.

“He’s alive, but several ribs are broken. Your Majesty, the energy surge is unstable. We need to evacuate the upper levels immediately.”

“No,” High Priest Overn interrupted, raising his glowing staff. His old eyes were filled with worry as he watched the runes twist and crack.

“Evacuation won’t save us if the seals break. The beast is growing stronger faster than expected. The containment spells are failing more quickly than before. Look at the stones, they’re melting.”

Darius forced himself to stand, leaning heavily against a stone pillar just to stay upright. He wiped the blood from his mouth, his chest rising and falling heavily as he glared at them through his messy dark hair.

“I told you to leave. I do not need an audience for my madness.”

Isolde didn’t move.

Her eyes stayed locked on his.

“If you die, Darius, this entire empire dies with you. Do not act as if your life belongs only to you.”

“Then fix the seals, Priest!” Darius snapped, his voice rough and tired.

“Tell me why they aren’t holding. Tell me why I am the only one bleeding for this cursed throne!”

Overn took a careful step forward, watching Darius closely.

“The beast never sleeps, Your Majesty. It reacts to imbalance. Every time your emotions become unstable, every time the empire faces trouble, the monster feeds on it. It wants war, sire.”

“I am the Emperor,” Darius hissed, bitterness filling his voice.

“I am supposed to rule the empire, not be destroyed by it.”

“It is the curse of your bloodline, sire,” Overn said softly, choosing his words carefully.

“The ancient curse requires a vessel. But your vessel… is beginning to crack under the pressure.”

Isolde stepped beside the priest, her posture firm and unforgiving.

“And without control, the beast will destroy the capital. The neighboring kingdoms are waiting for a single sign of weakness. They want us to fall.”

Darius let out a dark, hollow laugh that echoed through the chamber.

“So that’s what I am to you? A wall holding back a flood?”

“Yes,” Isolde said quietly. Her expression softened slightly, though her voice remained steady. “And that wall is starting to break. We need a temporary solution before you destroy us all.”

Overn cleared his throat and adjusted his heavy robes.

“There is one method that helped control similar situations in the past. A method mentioned in the ancient books.”

Darius straightened, his eyes narrowing as a cold feeling of dread settled in his stomach.

“Speak. Stop avoiding the answer.”

“The Rite Women,” Overn said.