Mated To The Cruel Prince-Chapter 850: Let His Demons Loose

"Aldric! Please open up!" Islinda’s fists thudded against the wall of shadows, her palms stinging with the effort. Every time she tore at the dark veil, another tendril of shadow rose to take its place, sealing her off from what was happening inside. It was maddening, the shadows swirling relentlessly, trapping her on the outside while the horrors unfolded within.

Her heart pounded in her chest, panic rising with every passing second. Queen Maeve’s screams reverberated through the air, each cry more tortured than the last, sending shivers down Islinda’s spine. What was Aldric doing to her?

"Seriously, Aldric!" she screamed, voice breaking. "Are you going to abandon everything you’ve built so far for revenge?" She was shaking now, her body trembling with fear and frustration. He could hear her, she knew it. But the shadows remained, and so did the suffocating silence from within.

She leaned against the dark barrier, exhausted, pressing her forehead to the cold surface. "Please, don’t do this."

In her mind, she could see the future spiraling out of control. If Aldric killed Queen Maeve, there would be no coming back. He would be hunted down, imprisoned, or worse—executed.

And she would be left to raise their child alone, a future she had always feared. That is if she even survived the pregnancy. There was still Azula to consider.

The dream of creating a world where Dark Faeries like Aldric and their child could live without fear or persecution would die with him.

The Light Faeries would never let them live in peace. If Aldric, their father, was the one to murder Queen Maeve—their beloved summer Queen—then his heir would be seen as a threat. They would hunt their child, even if it meant tearing the realms apart to do it.

The very thought made her shudder. Couldn’t Aldric see the consequences? Couldn’t he see how fragile their future was?

"Aldric..." Islinda’s voice broke, and tears streamed down her face. She was terrified—not just for herself, but for the life growing inside her. What kind of future awaited them if Aldric chose this path?

A commanding voice boomed behind her, jolting her out of her thoughts. "Step away from that!"

Islinda spun around, heart racing. King Oberon had arrived, his presence unmistakable, flanked by Prince Valerie, Prince Andre, and an entire regiment of the king’s elite soldiers. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the temperature dropping as frost began to form on the stone walls.

But Islinda’s eyes locked onto Valerie, and a surge of hatred flared in her chest. She knew why he’d followed after his father — afterall, she had been the one to send for the king.

Valerie didn’t want to save anyone; he wanted to witness Aldric’s downfall. He wanted to see Aldric kill his mother, to seal his fate as a murderer, so he could justify executing him. The cold calculation in Valerie’s eyes made Islinda’s blood boil. If it weren’t for the King’s presence, she might have attacked him then and there.

"Move aside," King Oberon commanded again, his voice sharp and authoritative. "I’ll handle this."

Islinda reluctantly stepped back, her eyes following the king as he approached the wall of shadows. She watched his every movement, trying to read his expression, searching for any sign of what he was thinking. After all he had betrayed his very own son.

But his face was as impassive as ever, a mask of calm authority. As the King of the Summer Court, Oberon had seen countless betrayals and tragedies, and this moment was no different.

With a cold determination, Oberon raised his hand and placed it against the shadowy barrier. At first, the shadows resisted, writhing and recoiling from the frost creeping up Oberon’s fingers. But the king’s power surged, and the air around them grew impossibly cold. Islinda could feel the temperature plummet, her breath forming small clouds in the freezing air.

Oberon’s eyes glowed an icy blue as the frost spread, overtaking the shadows inch by inch. The darkness tried to fight back, but the king’s magic was relentless. The shadows froze solid, encased in thick, glittering ice. With a final pulse of power, the wall of shadows shattered into a thousand glittering shards, raining down onto the floor like broken glass.

Islinda’s heart pounded in her chest as she followed Oberon into the room. She had prepared herself for the worst—imagined Aldric standing over Queen Maeve’s mutilated body, blood painting the walls. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight that greeted them.

Queen Maeve was kneeling on the floor, her regal composure gone. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the blood that dripped from her nose and mouth. Her once-vibrant eyes were wide with fear, flicking between Aldric and King Oberon like a cornered animal.

And Aldric... Aldric stood over her, his expression cold and devoid of any mercy. Shadows coiled around him, alive with dark energy. His eyes, once filled with warmth and passion, were now cold and empty, black as the void.

"You’re finally here," Aldric said, his voice filled with bitter amusement as he looked at King Oberon.

Islinda’s gaze shifted to the king, and for the first time, she saw the cracks in his composed exterior. His mask slipped, revealing the pain that lingered beneath—pain born from the death of his wife, from the choices he had made.

And now, Aldric, their son, stood before him, consumed by the very darkness Oberon had always feared.

"Aldric," the king began, his voice softer now, pleading. "I can explain—"

"Don’t," Aldric interrupted, his voice rising like thunder. "Don’t try to manipulate me!"

The air in the room thickened, tension crackling like lightning between them. If Islinda had thought Oberon’s voice carried authority, Aldric’s was something else entirely—something terrifying.

It was as though a hundred voices spoke through him, each one filled with rage and anguish, a discordant chorus of fury that chilled her to the bone. The Aldric she knew was gone. In his place stood something darker, and untamable.

This was not the Aldric she knew.

Aldric had given in to the shadows. He had let his demons loose.