Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 51: True Reawethen Princess

Chapter 51: True Reawethen Princess

[TW: Graphic Violence]

A foreign warmth enveloped Daphne’s hands right at the height of her fear, its intensity both exhilarating and bewildering. The unleashed fire crackled and roared with chaotic abandon, its vibrant hues illuminating the room with an untamed brilliance.

Daphne’s eyes widened with disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Ah, fuck!" Clive hissed out in pain, his hand instantly withdrawing from Daphne’s neck. Once he let go of her, she quickly gasped for air as though she had been plunged underwater for far too long. Her breathing was haggard, barely even. Her lungs hurt from the huge gulps of air but she took no care of that.

"You bitch!" the man cursed.

It was only then did Daphne look over to see, her vision finally clearing up from the fogginess created due to the lack of oxygen. Clive hadn’t moved too far back but he was clutching desperately on his arm. Right above his wrist, the skin had been burnt straight off, revealing the pink flesh underneath. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the air.

Unaware of her latent magical abilities, Daphne was frozen, mesmerized by the inferno she had unwittingly summoned.

"You will pay for that!"

When Clive lunged for her again, Daphne’s mind went blank.

’Fight back,’ a tiny voice at the back of her mind whispered. ’Let him taste the same pain he caused you. Make him burn.’

She screamed, her body washed over with terror when Clive nearly touched her again. She could feel his hands crawling over her skin, see the leer that he wore when he had taken a bit too much clothing off her body― everything blurred together into a passing image until Daphne could no longer tell right from left.

"No!" she yelped, cowering back. "Get away from me!"

There it was again. She felt the same tingling, burning sensation in her palms. The movement was so smooth that it was almost as though she had practiced it a thousand times before. Her hand reached out while the other supported her own body weight. Fingers releasing themselves from the fist, a spark appeared before a huge ball of fire materialized from the center of her palm.

Magic was shot out faster than the human eye could properly see. As soon as her fingers were unfurled, the man that was on top of her had been haphazardly shot back, his back harshly hitting the wall opposite, far from where they originally were.

"Ugh!" Clive grunted.

There was a trail of flames set ablaze, turning the wooden floor into a charred mess with flickering flames. The front portion of his shirt had been turned to dust immediately, leaving a gaping hole in the cloth, seared. Even his skin was raw and red, bubbling from the heat.

She had never used magic before, not even a spark. Yet, whatever fluke she had just summoned was enough to send someone so far back. The fire swirled and spiraled, as if driven by an inner force of its own, defending her with an instinctive urgency.

"What the fuck is happening here?"

Broc barely had time to dodge when a blazing ball of inferno blasted through the doorway. It had missed him by a hair’s breadth, completely incinerating the hinges and sending the door flying back in splinters. Even his sleeve had caught on fire and he hurriedly huffed and swatted at it, desperate to put it out.

Daphne couldn’t tell who it was at the door. She saw a flash of a scar and that was it. Her breath became shallow and erratic, her heart pounded against her chest like a captive bird desperate for escape, and a suffocating sense of dread enveloped her, rendering her body trembling and her mind trapped in a vortex of overwhelming fear.

"No..." she murmured, shuffling back a little where she was, still sitting on the floor. "Get away..."

Broc turned in the direction of the sound, his frown deepening when he realized the queen was huddled into a ball at the opposite corner of the room. Clive, on the other hand, was still clutching onto his chest, groaning in pain.

"Get..." Clive spoke through gritted teeth, hissing in pain. "Get her!"

"Get away from me!"

This time, Daphne raised both hands up in front of her face in a defensive position. Broc crossed the room and reached out. Yet, he hadn’t even touched her when he was immediately met with a rush of blue flames that quickly enveloped the entire left side of his head.

A scream ripped from his throat, pain engulfing his entire body as he dropped to his knees. His hands reached for his face, just hovering over the injury, afraid of touching it due to the sear of his flesh.

The fresh burn marred his skin, a testament to the intense heat that had ravaged the area. His skin now bore the marks of trauma― redness spreading like a fiery canvas, angry blisters forming delicate bubbles, and the skin around it inflamed and tender to the touch.

It had only just been a second of contact but it was enough. Even the old scar over his left eye was barely visible, completely covered by the new one Daphne had just given him.

Daphne’s shoulders quaked as she sobbed, shivering in fright. She shuffled back, tucking her knees under her chin as she gazed blankly at the two men that were rolling on the floor, wracked by pain.

Her blasts had set the scarce furniture in the room on fire, the flames growing by the second since most if not all things in the room were made of wood. Smoke steadily started to rise, a dark gray cloud forming above near the ceiling of the room.

She wanted to get up and make a run for it but her knees were wobbly. At this time, she could no longer master any strength to stand up and get out the door toward safety. The exit was just right there.

Yet, those few steps seemed nearly impossible to take.

"You vile witch!" Clive spat. He had a hand over his chest as if he was trying to protect his wound from further harm. "And they said you aren’t adept in magic," he said. "Turns out you are a Reawethen princess after all. Should’ve never underestimated you."

"Ugh!" Broc panted, attempting to calm down his breathing despite the agony. "You will end up killing us all!"

’Don’t...’ Daphne thought to herself, the words clogged at her throat, refusing to come out despite her lips being parted. Her voice failed her, unable to speak coherent words. ’Don’t come any closer.’

Kill or be killed.

Clive had reached forward and grabbed her wrist during that one moment of diverted attention. She hadn’t even realized he had gotten so close to her so quickly.

The man winced in pain when his palms made contact with the queen’s frail wrist. She looked like a porcelain doll, beautifully dainty and fragile. He would’ve never in a million years guessed that this woman held so much destructive power within her.

He and his men had indeed underestimated the ability of the queen. She was, after all, the woman that married the ruthless ruler of the North. How weak could she possibly truly be?

The earrings that dangled on her ears suddenly burned. A bright red glow filled the entire room, momentarily blinding everyone due to its intensity. Heat radiated from it, a familiar sensation running through her head, down her neck and shoulders, before going to her hands.

"I said don’t touch me!"

The deafening blast erupted from within the confined space of the old wooden shed, unleashing a torrent of force that tore through the air. In an instant, the roof trembled under the impact, as if resisting the impending chaos. Then, with an explosive surge, the structure succumbed, its fragile wooden framework disintegrating into splinters, and the once-sturdy roof launched skyward in a chaotic dance.

The detonation sent a shockwave rippling through the air, causing nearby objects to quiver and retreat in a futile attempt to escape the impending destruction. The blast reverberated with a thunderous roar, drowning out all other sounds and leaving behind a chaotic symphony of destruction.

As the roof soared upwards, propelled by the immense force of the explosion, fragments of wood and debris spun and twirled, caught in a whirlwind of destruction.

Moonlight momentarily filtered through the newly created opening, casting fleeting silver rays upon the remnants of the shed’s minimal furniture, now exposed to the elements.

In the aftermath, silence settled like a heavy shroud, broken only by the distant crackling of flames. The roof, once a protective barrier, now lay scattered in a haphazard arrangement, marking the violent rupture that had taken place within the humble confines of the wooden shed.

There was a high-pitched ring in her ears. For a while, that was all Daphne could hear. In the distance, she could hear the crackling of flames, its heat lingering evermore despite the winter cold. Other than that, silence.

Then, she heard a familiar voice, one much softer in tone than the other voices she had been hearing for the last couple of hours. It rang in her ear and sounded like a lullaby, comforting― like home. Daphne slowly looked up when she heard it again and was met with a familiar set of amber eyes.

"Daphne?"