Chased Out: Part Three

Låsr ån bhryntessa iea dsalla." Dakur bellowed, "For it seems, I have some unfinished business with their dear Wroyè." It would be on that cold night, as Iulian sat on the amber sands of the Daghei waiting for Colèo, waiting patiently for the princess that would never come. That Lord Eamónn stormed the blackened halls of Chastele Dacru, the white walls of marbled stone holding no sound save the thundering steps of an enraged tyrant. Wand in hand and a small band dacons at his side, Dakur had barged his way into the royal bed chambers in the dead of night.   It was said as black waves washed ashore. The Marrízian royals were dragged out, one by one, and thrust into the Rose courtyard. As the dacons spat horrid visions of running blood and Cèrish steel and deathly rays of red hot embers spilled forth from Dakur's lips. The Wroyé and his kin crumpled as a wave of nightmares flooded their ears. It was only after. When the entire royal family gathered, did Dakur question.   "Darach hua?"   His tone was calm, and yet is amber-gold eyes spoke of death as he sat upon the Wroyé's throne. "Tell me, how is it that some backwater trader from the bethairn has the gall to run off with my diionna, hm?"   "No regal lineage? No nuabil backing? And yet... naoi thaen wus. Not a single one of your dairn has caught gjean."   "Hahaha! Ui-sa seumael, do you aussir savages not see the depths of Aisénnia!?"