Chapter 1 Another Queen Is Dead

• The moonlight filters through the crystalline windows of Queen Henrietta’s chamber, casting pale blue shadows across the marble floors.
• Her private quarters glow softly, the golden trim of the pillars and drapes gleaming like whispers of wealth.
• Candles flicker on ornate sconces, illuminating the royal purple velvet of her bedding and the gentle shimmer of her rose-gold nightgown.
• Queen Henrietta jolts awake, her eyes wide as a strange sound breaks the silence of her chamber. She has dismissed her maids for the evening—no one should be here.
• She tries to rise, but her body betrays her. Her limbs felt heavy, weighted by an invisible force, and her breath hitched in her throat.
• She tries to move again but her muscles betray her. A wave of dread crept through her bones.
• The footsteps draw closer.
• By the flickering candlelight, she catches sight of a tall figure dressed entirely in black.
• He emerges from the shadows near the window, his eyes sharp and cold like a predator’s, fixed on her with terrifying purpose.
• Fear paralyzes her further. Her lips tremble as she tries to speak.
• “Who are you? How dare you—” But her voice is only a whisper.
• Her breath catches as realization hits—
• She’s been poisoned. The food from the royal banquet earlier.
• Tears brim in her eyes as she searches for something. Anything to defend herself. But her body refuses to obey.
• The figure draws nearer, and before she can scream, his knife plunges deep into her chest.
• Her cry was muffle and raw. Blood gush, staining the fine silks she wore.
• The assassin pulls out the knife again and pain explodes through Henrietta's body.
• She gasps, her trembling fingers pressing to the wound as warm blood soaks her gown. Still, she fights, dragging herself to the floor, trying to grab at him, to survive.
• She fails.
• Two of her maids burst into the room, horrified cries dying in their throats as the intruder turns on them.
• With quick, brutal precision, he slashes them down. Their bodies crumple beside her, lifeless.
• More tears stream down Henrietta’s cheeks. She has already lost her entire family weeks ago, both her maids were all she had left.
• Summoning every last shred of strength, Henrietta crawls across the marble floor, clutching her bleeding chest. She reaches out to touch one of her maids. Her voice cracks in anguish.
• The man leaps out the window, vanishing like a ghost into the night.
• Henrietta’s vision blurs. She collapses beside the bodies of her maids, her blood mixing with theirs, her sobs echoing through the palace walls before everything fades to black.
• —
• At the edge of the palace grounds, down by the palace lake where the royal swans slept, a woman dressed in a gown of sunshine-yellow silk and embroiled pearls stands at the edge of the water waiting.
• Her features are sharp, regal, and utterly composed. A golden ring gleams on her left hand, a serpent biting its tail.
• “Is it done?” she asked the man in black as he emerges from the woods.
• “Yes,” he replied curtly.
• “She’s dead.”
• The woman nods.
• “I’ll have your mother released. She’ll join you by morning. Leave the palace tonight. No one must ever know you were here.”
• The man bows and slips away like a shadow. The woman turns, her expression unreadable, and disappears into the trees.
• —
• By drawn, the Palace of Eldrid is in uproar. Queen Henrietta’s body is discovered by other servants while coming to serve her for bath. The maids lie beside her in a pool of blood.
• Panic spreads. Whispers fill the air. Another Queen is dead.
• Servants murmur about the curse and the death that follows his wives like a shadow.
• And as always, the King says nothing. He remains silent, stoic, unmoved. Not even debunking the rumors that the curse of the dragon laid on him is responsible for the death of his Queen.
• After all, it’s the third Queen to be crowned and murdered in just sixteen months.
• The Queen was buried with minimal rites and mourning processions, no noble family to claim her legacy because she had none left.
• She hails from a generation of soldiers and her father was a respected man in the country who died in battle, leaving behind Henrietta and her mother. But a few months ago, her mother died also, along with the rest of her kin in a “bandit raid”
• On the final day of mourning, King Lucas appears.
• He is dressed in black and gold robes that match his icy aura, his posture was unyielding. His face is carved from stone, his expression unreadable, his eyes colder than winter frost.
• Soldiers march in formation behind him, their armor gleaming in the morning light.
• No one dares to speak. His mere presence silences the room.
• Lucas enters the ritual chamber with slow, heavy steps and stares at her lifeless form. Not a flicker of grief crossed his face.
• He performs the bare minimum, places a flower on her coffin, then turns to leave without so much as glancing at her face one last time.
• He didn’t shed a single tear or utter a word and just turned and leaves.
• He had ruled for ten years with icy resolve, becoming the King at just fifteen.
• In a chaos of the dragon god, Jurua’s uprising seven years ago, the beast who has terrorize the royal family for years, he had killed the ancient beast and executed every of its followers.
• Its priest however before her death, cursed the King with the death of everyone around him.
• And now, another Queen is dead.