Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 367: Sister… Kill Me?

Chapter 367: Sister... Kill Me?

"You’ll do no such thing!" Leonara declared hotly. "Put that hand of yours away!"

"Then we’ll be counting on you to finish the job," Atticus retorted smoothly. He gestured to Silas and lazily said, "And you better make it quick. It seems like the serum isn’t going to hold for much longer."

Sure enough, in the short time that Atticus and Leonora had been conversing, Silas’s breaths had gotten heavy. His fists were tightly clenched but his nails still grew into claws. It pierced through the flesh of his palm, puncturing holes into his hand as blood leaked out from the wound.

A pained groan rumbled from Silas’s throat as he slammed his fists against the floor. Leonora and Atticus turned abruptly, shocked to see midnight black lines crawling through from underneath his skin, his veins colored like a raven’s feathers. A trail of saliva had even dripped from his mouth, leaking onto the floor as he heaved and panted, fighting through the pain.

"Leo...nora..." He heaved. Silas’s entire body trembled as he struggled to look up at his twin sister. His eyes remained fixated on her, wishing he could sear her face right into his memory so that he would never forget her, even in death.

On the other hand, this allowed the rest of the people in the room to watch as the color of Silas’s eyes changed. The blue of his irises slowly warmed in color until it turned into the color of freshly spilled blood. Similarly, his pupils turned lighter until they became brilliant gold, while his sclera turned black like spilled ink.

Just like how his eyes changed color, Leonora could see the humanity seep away with each passing second until all that was left was just a shell of who he once was. All that was left in his place was a monster who bore Silas’s face, but not his mind.

"Princess, if you’re not doing it, don’t blame me for failing to grant your brother’s dying wish," Atticus warned, the purple color of his ring pulsing with power.

Leonora’s lips trembled. She didn’t want to. She couldn’t. This was a horrible punishment.

However, she must.

She readied her weapon and steeled herself, drawing her sword before her own magic pulsed through from her hands to her sword. The blade of her weapon was lit up in flames, and right as the last sliver of humanity melted away from Silas’s eyes, she took in a deep breath.

With a single forceful swipe, she struck her blade out, a motion that was smooth and practiced for she had done this a thousand times before.

Even with a hardened heart, Leonora couldn’t help the skip of a beat when the blade cleanly ran across Silas’s neck right as he was about to pounce up and attack. It stopped him before he could even get up, relieving his neck of his head as the latter fell to the ground with a thud. His body, on the other hand, remained in his previous kneeling position.

"Fire to stop the blood," Sirona observed. "That’s good. With how Prince Alistair’s blood is poisonous, it might not be good to have Prince Silas’s blood leaking everywhere."

"Sirona!" Daphne chided from one side, shaking her head wildly back and forth while taking pointed stares at Leonora, who was still silent with despair.

The healer’s lips formed an ’o’ shape before she pursed it shut, keeping her silence. Leonora should be given the chance to grieve. That was her most beloved brother, after all, and the person whom she was closest to.

"We’ll be outside," Daphne said, placing a hand on Leonora’s shoulder to show her form of comfort. She felt like a horrible older sister, but other than a little bit of guilt and the slightest bit of sadness, she hardly felt anything about Silas’s death. To her, he was not much more than a rude housemate.

Then, Daphne turned, tugging on Atticus’s hand to try and get him to follow her, only to be stopped by a voice.

"Like I said, Nora, there’s no hope," the voice said. "Just do it. Quickly. I can feel some pain in my neck; I think I am about to turn."

With the speed at which Daphne whipped her head back, she might’ve even fractured her neck if she had been unlucky. Her jaw hung agape and her eyes were wide, wondering this whole time if she was indeed actually so overwhelmed by grief that she started hallucinating.

However, the matching looks on everyone else’s faces told her that she hadn’t heard wrong― if she did, it would be a mass hallucination.

Leonora was in the most shock. Her sword fell to the ground, the flames immediately extinguished. On the other hand, her eyes were entirely fixated on Silas’s detached head, staring at it like it was truly, indeed, without a shadow of a doubt, the makings of a monster.

"What the fuck?" The expletive flew from Atticus’s lips before any of the others could even recover.

He had seen his fair share of insanity in this world but this was a first― a beheaded man-turned-vampire was now speaking with just as much rationality and charm — albeit not much, in Atticus’s humble opinion — as before he was even turned. While the body remained unmoving, it didn’t seem like the head could tell that it was detached from the rest of himself.

"By God," Sirona muttered under her breath. "He is a monster."

"That is very rude. I am trying to die in peace here," Silas said.

His eyes suddenly flew right open, and to everyone’s surprise, they were still colored the same way as when he was taken over by the vampirism toxins― red irises, black sclerae, and golden pupils.

"Wait," he said. "Why are you all sideways? Why am I on the... floor... Ah!"

His line of sight landed on his own beheaded body not too far away, still kneeling, unmoving. Even as Silas’s head rocked back and forth due to his panic, the rest of his body stayed as still as a statue.

Leonora, too, was as silent as one. Her eyes were as wide as saucers and she looked downright horrified as she stared at her brother as he squirmed around like a worm on a hook.

"Nora, what is happening?" Silas asked, half screaming. "Why is my body there? Where has my head gone?!"

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