Chapter 8 - THE SIEGE OF BRIAR GLEN
By noon the following day, a storm was brewing over Briar Glen.
In the center of the village square, Marcus Vale stood atop a wooden platform, flanked by twenty armed guards and the village elders.
"Citizens of Briar Glen!" Marcus bellowed to the frightened crowd gathered before him. "The monster of Hollowspire has broken the sacred truce! He took my daughter Evelyn by trickery, and now he has taken my youngest, Clara! The beast intends to destroy us all!"
The crowd gasped and murmured in terror.
"We march on the castle today!" Marcus shouted, raising a torch. "We will burn Hollowspire to ash and kill Lord Alaric once and for all!"
"You're a bit late for a rescue, Father," a calm, clear voice echoed across the square.
The crowd gasped and parted.
Walking down the main street, completely unharmed, was Evelyn.
She wore a magnificent gown of deep midnight blue, embroidered with silver thread that shimmered like stars. Her dark hair was styled, and around her neck hung the copper crescent moon pendant.
Beside her walked Lord Alaric Thorne.
He no longer wore his silver mask. Though faint silver scars still traced his left cheek, the terrifying black corruption was gone. He walked with the effortless elegance of true royalty, his hand gently resting at the small of Evelyn's back.
Behind them trailed Clara, her hands bound in silver rope, looking utterly defeated.
Marcus froze, his face draining of all color. "Evelyn...? Clara...?"
"Lower your weapons!" Evelyn commanded the guards. Her voice carried an unnatural, resonant power that made the men instantly drop their swords to the cobblestones.
Evelyn stepped up to the platform, looking up at the man who had raised her only to sell her.
"The choosing ceremony was a lie," Evelyn announced to the gathered villagers, her voice reaching every corner of the square. "There was no lottery. My father sold me eighteen years ago for gold and land, and yesterday, he sent my sister with a dagger to spill my blood and unlock an ancient evil beneath the mountain."
Panic erupted through the crowd.
"She's lying!" Sarah Vale screamed, running out from the family home. "She's under the monster's spell!"
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"Am I?" Evelyn raised her hand.
With a flick of her wrist, the ancient marriage book materialized in thin air before the crowd, its pages floating open to display the eighteen-year-old signatures of Marcus and Sarah Vale in bright, undeniable golden light.
