Page 97 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

Slowly, agonizingly, her humanity clawed its way back. The bloodlust faded, leaving behind bone-deep exhaustion. Every muscle screamed, threatening to give out.

But she couldn’t rest. Not yet.

There was something… something important…

What was it?

She blinked hard, forcing herself to focus on Arye’s face. His features were etched with concern, storm-gray eyes searching hers. A smear of blood marred his cheek, stark against pale skin. Skylar realized she was in his arms, body trembling against his chest. His warmth anchored her as the last of the Gryphon’s influence ebbed away.

“I’m back,” she croaked, voice raw as if she’d been screaming for hours. Maybe she had. “Sorry for… keeping you waiting.”

Relief flickered across Arye’s face, his grip tightening. “I knew you’d come back to me,” he murmured. “You always do.”

The tenderness in his words, so at odds with the carnage around them, made Skylar’s heart clench. She opened her mouth to respond, but movement caught her eye.

Her mother rushed forward, placing herself protectively in front of them. The Dowager Duchess’s face was pale, streaked with tears and grime, but her eyes blazed with fierce determination.

“Your Majesty,” she pleaded, voice trembling but resolute. “I beg you to spare her. It’s all my fault. Punish me if you must, but please… spare my daughter.”

The words hit Skylar like a physical blow. Her secret—her family’s secret—was exposed for everyone to see. She looked down at herself, taking in the tattered remains of her once-beautiful gown, now blood-soaked rags. Her feet were bare and bloodied, shoes lost in the chaos. The borrowed sword lay nearby, blade dulled with gore. Her long hair, freed from its careful styling, tumbled down her back in tangled, sweat-damp waves.

No more bindings. No more disguises.

Just Skylar Anathemark, devoid of all pretense.

Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the shocked and confused faces of the nobles. Lady Emma stood near the far wall, clutching baby Conley to her chest with trembling arms. The infant’s wails had subsided to quiet whimpers.

But it was the nobles’ reactions that truly drove home the magnitude of what had transpired. Eyes wide with horror, fascination, disgust. Some whispered furiously, others simply stared, slack-jawed, at a spot behind her.

The Gryphon.

Skylar turned, seeking out its massive form, only to find it slowly fading away. Their gazes locked, and she was struck bythe warmth in those ancient eyes. It nudged her gently, a gesture so tender it brought tears to her eyes. Its feathers shimmered with otherworldly light, each one a masterpiece of gold and silver.

It wasn’t a Divine Beast.

It wasn’t a cursed one either.

It was so much more than that.

“Thank you,” Skylar whispered, reaching out to stroke its silky feathers one last time. The Gryphon leaned into her touch, and for a brief moment, she felt a profound connection to the creature that had been both her curse and her salvation. Then, like mist dissipating in the morning sun, it was gone.

A strange emptiness settled over Skylar, as if a part of her very being had vanished. The absence left her feeling hollow, vulnerable in a way she had never experienced before. She had barely begun to process this loss when the sound of heavy footsteps drew her attention back to the present.

King Lyinell advanced, a dangerous smirk on his lips. His sword gleamed wickedly in the flickering candlelight.

There was not a single drop of blood on it.

He didn’t fight, didn’t protect, didn’t even try.

Coward.

“Such a pity,” the King’s voice dripped with malice as he approached the Dowager Duchess. “It seems our little reunion has come to an unexpected end, Merlyn.”

Skylar’s mother stiffened, eyes widening with fear. Without warning, King Lyinell lunged forward, his sword arcing through the air with deadly intent.

“Stop!” Skylar screamed, her body moving of its own accord. She broke free from Arye’s grasp, stumbling forward on unsteady legs. Time seemed to slow as she threw herself between her mother and the King’s blade, dropping to her knees beforehim. The cold marble bit into her skin, sending shivers up her spine.

“Please,” she begged, her voice raw with desperation. “Take my life instead, Your Majesty. Let my mother and brother go.”

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