The Last Heir of the Forbidden Family

The First Excecution

Chapter 6: The First Execution

The Malphas Elder didn’t move. He just stood there, leaning on that hideous skull-topped cane, looking at Dorian like he was a five-course meal at a Michelin-star restaurant. The Shadow Walker’s blade was still vibrating against the air an inch from Dorian’s throat, held back by nothing but the Elder’s sheer presence.

"Seriously?" Dorian choked out, his voice trembling. "Another one? Is there a sign-up sheet for 'Terrify the Warehouse Guy' that I didn't see?"

"Dorian, get back!" Kenji yelled, his shotgun clicking as he jammed in another shell. "That’s Vane. He’s not just an Elder; he’s the one who trains these freaks. If he’s here, the Council has already decided you’re too dangerous to be left in one piece."

"Dangerous?" Vane chuckled, the sound like dry leaves skittering over a grave. "Look at him, Kenji. He’s shivering. He’s a fawn in a forest of wolves. A very bright, very expensive fawn."

"He’s not a fawn," Seraphine hissed, her daggers spinning in her hands, catching the dim red glow of the flare. "He’s an Ardent. And if you touch him, my father will pull your House down stone by stone."

Vane’s eyes, milky and ancient, flickered toward her. "Augustin? That old bat is too busy playing dress-up in the Upper District to come down here. Besides, once we have the boy, House Voss won't be in any position to make threats. Kill the Hunter. Keep the girl for leverage. But the boy... I want him conscious. I want to hear his blood sing when we start the extraction."

"Extraction?" Dorian’s heart did a frantic somersault. "That sounds like a medical procedure I definitely didn't consent to!"

"It’s not a check-up, kid!" Kenji barked, stepping in front of Dorian. "It’s a butcher shop! Seraphine, on your left!"

The Shadow Walkers didn't wait for a second invitation. They blurred into motion, their spindly forms snapping through the air like whipcord. Seraphine met the first two with a scream of steel against shadow. She moved like a dancer, her silver hair a streak of light in the gloom.

"Is that all you’ve got, Vane?" Seraphine taunted, ducking under a shadowy claw and burying a dagger in a Walker’s chest. "I’ve seen better footwork at a funeral!"

"Arrogant child," Vane whispered. "Quantity has a quality all its own. Finish them!"

"Kenji, they're coming through the floor!" Dorian screamed, pointing at the bubbling darkness beneath the Hunter’s feet.

"I see 'em!" Kenji roared, firing his shotgun downward. The blast of iron buckshot shredded the floorboards, sending a cloud of splinters and grey mist into the air. "Dorian, stay in the center! Don't let them get behind you!"

"I’m trying!" Dorian yelled back, his hands glowing with that unstable, flickering gold. "But the center keeps moving because everything is exploding!"

Seraphine was a whirlwind, but even she was slowing down. There were six Walkers on her now, their movements synchronized and cruel. One of them managed to catch her shoulder, the black blade leaving a trail of frost and blood on her leather jacket.

"Seraphine!" Dorian took a step toward her, but a Shadow Walker materialized directly in his path, its white slit-eyes staring into his soul.

"Don't worry about me, kid!" Seraphine shouted, kicking a Walker back and spinning into a low sweep. "Just keep your head down! I’ve had worse scratches from a house cat!"

"You're bleeding!" Dorian’s voice rose in pitch. The gold in his veins wasn't just humming anymore; it was screaming. "They're going to kill you because of me!"

"That's the idea, boy," Vane said, tapping his cane on the concrete. "Watch her die. Watch the Hunter fall. The despair makes the Ardent pulse so much sweeter. It’s like aging a fine wine."

"Shut up!" Dorian snapped, his eyes fixed on Seraphine.

She was cornered. Two Walkers had pinned her arms with shadowy tethers, while a third—the largest one—raised a jagged blade of solidified darkness over her heart. She looked at Dorian, her violet eyes wide, not with fear, but with a strange, fierce pride.

"Dorian... run!" she gasped.

"No," Dorian whispered.

He felt it then. It wasn't the warm, sunlight feeling of the Command he’d used before. This was a jagged, freezing spike of possessive rage. It felt like his blood had turned into liquid diamond—hard, sharp, and unstoppable. He didn't just want them to stop. He wanted them to cease to exist.

"I said..." Dorian’s voice dropped an octave, vibrating with a power that made the very air in the garage crackle. "Get your hands... OFF HER!"

Vane’s smile faltered. "What is this?"

Dorian didn't look at the Elder. He looked at the Shadow Walker holding the blade over Seraphine. He felt a connection, a tether of gold stretching from his chest to the creature’s very essence.

"You like breaking things?" Dorian asked, his voice echoing as if a hundred people were speaking at once. "Fine. Break."

The word didn't just hang in the air. It was a physical blow.

A sickening, wet crunch echoed through the garage. It wasn't just the Shadow Walker over Seraphine; every single assassin in the room suddenly buckled. Their limbs twisted at impossible angles. The sound of snapping bone and tearing sinew filled the space, a rhythmic, horrific percussion.

"My... my legs..." one of the Walkers wheezed, falling to the floor as its shins shattered into dust.

The one holding Seraphine didn't even have time to scream. Its entire ribcage collapsed inward, the shadowy form flickering violently before it imploded into a puddle of black ink.

"Holy... Dorian?" Kenji whispered, his shotgun lowering as he stared at the carnage.

Dorian didn't hear him. He was staring at his hands. The gold wasn't just under his skin; it was leaking out, forming glowing cracks in the air around him. He felt like a god. He felt like a monster.

"What did you do?" Vane hissed, backing away, his cane trembling. "That wasn't a Command! That was a... a Shatter!"

"I told them to break," Dorian said, turning his gaze toward the Elder. His voice was flat, devoid of the panic that had defined him all night. "Are you next, Vane? Do you want to see how many pieces you come in?"

"You... you’re a monster," Vane stammered, the predatory Elder replaced by a terrified old man. "The blood... it’s too pure. It’s supposed to be dormant!"

"Does it look dormant to you?" Dorian asked, taking a step forward. Each footfall sent a ripple of gold across the concrete, cracking the floorboards.

Seraphine stood up, clutching her wounded shoulder. She was staring at Dorian with an expression that made his skin crawl. It wasn't horror. It was a dark, shimmering awe. Her breath was coming in short, shallow hitches, and her eyes were glowing a deep, primal purple.

"Dorian," she breathed, her voice a mix of a shudder and a sigh. "That was... incredible."

"It was a massacre, Seraphine," Kenji snapped, though he didn't move toward Dorian. He looked at the boy like he was a ticking nuclear bomb. "Dorian, snap out of it. Look at what you're doing!"

Dorian looked down. One of the Shadow Walkers was still alive, crawling toward the exit. Its arms were twisted backward, and its spine was visibly jagged through its suit. It was sobbing—a thin, pathetic sound.

The golden heat in Dorian’s chest suddenly vanished, replaced by a wave of nauseating horror. The reality of the violence hit him like a physical punch.

"Oh, god," Dorian gasped, his voice returning to its normal, shaky tone. The golden light retreated, leaving him feeling cold and hollow. "I... I didn't mean... I just wanted them to stop."

"You did more than stop them, kid," Kenji said, walking over and putting a cautious hand on Dorian’s shoulder. "You dismantled them."

Vane saw his opening. He didn't try to fight; he turned and blurred toward the shadows of the garage door. "This isn't over! You think you’ve won? You’ve just signed your death warrant!"

"Let him go," Kenji muttered, holding Dorian back. "We have bigger problems."

Dorian stumbled toward the surviving Walker, the one still whimpering on the floor. He knelt down, his hands shaking. "I'm sorry. I didn't... I’ll help you. Just... hang on."

The assassin looked up at him, its jagged white eyes flickering. It let out a wet, rattling laugh. "Help? You’re the King... the King of Graves."

"Shut up," Dorian whispered. "Just stay still."

"The Thirteen..." the assassin wheezed, blood leaking from its mouth. "They’ve seen you now. They’ve felt the Shatter. They will never... never allow a King to return. They’ll burn this city... before they let you take the throne."

"Who are the Thirteen?" Dorian demanded, grabbing the creature’s collar. "Tell me!"

"They are the end of you," the assassin hissed, a final, spiteful grin stretching across its face. "They are the—"

"I said TELL ME!" Dorian’s voice flared again, a tiny spark of gold igniting in his eyes.

The assassin’s neck snapped instantly. The command was too much for its already broken body. The head lolled back, the eyes going dark.

Dorian froze. He stared at the body in his hands, the silence of the garage feeling like a heavy shroud.

"I just killed him," Dorian whispered. "I didn't even... I just asked a question, and I killed him."

"Dorian, listen to me," Seraphine said, stepping closer, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek. Her touch was cold, but her eyes were burning. "You didn't just kill a hitman. You sent a message. The world is changing. You’re changing."

Dorian pulled away, his eyes wide with a sudden, sharp fear. He looked at Seraphine, then at Kenji, then at the broken bodies littering the floor.

"I don't want to be a message," Dorian said, his voice breaking. "I don't want to be a King. I just want... I want to go back to my apartment. I want to forget this."

"You can't go back, kid," Kenji said softly, looking at the monitors as more red dots began to appear on the perimeter. "The Thirteen... if they’re involved, this isn't a gang war anymore. This is an apocalypse. And you're the only one with the fire to stop it."

Dorian looked at his hands again. They were clean, but in his mind, they were dripping with gold and blood.

"The Thirteen," Dorian whispered. "Who are they?"

"

They’re the ones who really rule this world," Seraphine said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And they’re coming for you."