Game of Illusions: Vengeance of the Blind Heir

007 | The Oath of Vengeance (Nyx)

Let me get this straight. My name is Nyx Moonspire. But unlike him, I take no pride in my family name. My father was an ancient king, my mother an ancient queen, and I was their little prince. That’s all.

You might have heard of me in a few fairy tales. The little prince who tried to steal the throne from his stepmother? That was me. The hound that scared misbehaving children and lured them astray with illusion magic? Also me. But that doesn’t mean any of it is true. In reality, I’ve got my own life to deal with.

There was a time when I wanted the throne. When I wanted to rip it from the hands of my stepmother—the mad doctor who spent years poisoning my mother. But in the end, she died on her own, taken by some mortal illness. The truth is, I did rule this kingdom for a while. I even married a Grand Duke’s daughter. But then she died, and that’s when I started realizing—I'm not like other kings. I don’t get to die.

I’m a chosen mage of the Sacred Tome. Maybe one of its favorites. Or maybe the opposite. Maybe it hates me.

It wanders the world, handing out magic to mage bloodlines like candy. But it never guarantees happiness. There’s no cure for an immortal’s misery. Like the Revenants who live too long, I suffer from loneliness.

Until one day, I meet her. Dressed in rags, trying to steal bread from a greedy merchant.

Okay, this is getting too long. I’ll save that story for later. Right now, something far more interesting is happening.

For the first time, I meet an illusion mage born blind. His disability doesn’t make him any less dangerous, but his brothers don’t know that. They keep poking at him, pushing him, testing his limits.

And in one split second, my illusion makes him snap.

Twigs, leaves, dust, and pebbles ignite, spinning into a firestorm around us. I don’t move. I just sit back, watching with a smirk. Because here’s something people don’t realize—illusion isn’t controlled by sight. It’s controlled by emotion.

If Helio Hawthorn is creating a storm of fire, then this is exactly how he feels.

“Sh*t! Demario, we need to go!” Zenthio shouts.

I tilt my head, watching his younger brother’s lip twitch. He doesn’t like being ordered around, especially not now. I can feel the hunger in him—the desire to kill. Just like Zenthio. But in the end, he obeys, leaving behind the inferno that could turn bones to dust.

“I’ll be waiting for you at my summer estate, Nyx!” Zenthio calls out.

I smirk. I’m used to being treated like a servant. Not everyone knows who I really am.

"Yes, My Lord," I say, voice light, almost bored.

Their horses thunder away into the night. Soon, they’ll meet up with General Aziel’s knights, spinning their web of lies and half-truths, twisting the story to suit them. After all, there’s no proof that Zenthio and Demario had anything to do with the sudden deaths of their father, stepmother, and two brothers. A blind boy’s story about me? Not nearly enough.

“Nyx, is that you?”

I blink, turning back to the young Hawthorn. I consider ignoring the question. But then I notice something—his pale eyes are locked onto mine. Seeing straight through me.

I snap my fingers. The firestorm vanishes in an instant. Twigs and leaves drop to the ground. Dust dances under the moonlight. Smoke fades.

“What?” I ask.

His gaze hardens. The fire has burned through the ropes on his wrists. Now, he stands tall, brushing the soot off his tattered clothes. His eyes flick to his little brother, nearly buried in fallen leaves, then back to me.

And there it is. That rage. The kind that makes people kill.

“Zenthio and Demario are gone,” he says. “So why are you still here? Do you enjoy watching me suffer?”

No. I want to see him rise. I want to see him fight back.

But I just shrug. “The show got boring,” I mutter, feigning a yawn. “See you at the palace.”

He moves fast. His hand swings through the air, and a massive tree rips from the earth, soaring straight at me.

I don’t flinch. I raise a single hand and stop it in its tracks.

My lips curl into a smirk.

“You’re a few hundred years too early to beat me, Hawthorn,” I say. “That’s what I told your father before he begged for his life.”

“So it’s true.” His face twists with disgust. “You did kill him.”

“One day,” he growls, “you’ll pay for what you’ve done.”

“Go ahead and try,” I say. “But you and I both know—you’re full of sh*t.”

His eyes narrow. “Is your life really that boring?” he mutters. “So boring you have to play lapdog to men who are just as bad as you?”

Something inside me clenches. My fists tighten.

“You don’t know anything about me, Hawthorn.” My jaw locks, my voice cold. “Not a d*mn thing.”

“I know what I see.” His silver eyes bore into mine. “You’re empty. And I swear, Nyx—I’ll make sure your life is anything but boring. I swear, I’ll end your immortality.”

I scoff. “Go ahead and try.”

I snap my fingers. In a blink, the forest is gone.

Now, I lean against the gilded palace walls, my boots sinking into the plush carpet.

It’ll take at least two days for General Aziel’s men to get here. A few more hours for Helio Hawthorn to arrive.

I can’t wait.

Two maids pass by, carrying laundry from the prince’s chambers. The door is slightly open, giving me a perfect view inside.

He’s just a child. Seven years old. Born blind. Too weak to be the next king. His tutors say he’s intelligent. But tutors always say that. They’d lie through their teeth to keep their jobs.

I don’t believe in miracles. I haven’t for a long time.

I stretch, bones cracking as I shift. My body morphs into that of a hound. I race through the corridors, following the scent.

In the garden, I find him. Sitting on a bench, reading a newspaper. I shift back, drop into the seat beside him.

“Hey, Bernard,” I say. “Thanks for introducing me to that family.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” he replies.

I fake a smile. Bernard might not realize it. But I’ve always, always worked alone.