The grand throne room
fell into an uneasy silence
as the King held the letter in his trembling hands.
The
black feather
—a single crow’s plume—
rested on the royal table
, its dark sheen glinting under the candlelight.
The King’s
gaze darkened
as he read the words
again.
"Hello, dear King,
I hope you’re feeling well. I am too. It’s such a lovely day outside—the animals are singing, the trees are swaying, and the kingdom is as it always is... at least, on the surface. Unless, of course, you're looking from the inside.
I do hope you took my threat seriously. You will never find me.
But I will always find you.
I am in every shadow. In every whisper of the wind. In every pair of unseen eyes that follow you in the night.
You should know—
I am always watching.
Every bird. Every mouse. Every snake.
Everything that crawls, everything that slithers, everything that moves… is mine.
So enjoy your reign, Your Majesty. Have fun."
A chill
crawled
down the spines of the knights gathered in the room.
The King’s
hand tightened around the parchment, crumpling it slightly.
"Search. The entire palace." His voice was
low, cold.
The knights
bowed
and immediately
scattered
through the halls of the castle.
The hunt had begun.
The Palace Hunt
Boots
thundered
against marble floors as knights stormed
every chamber, every corridor.
They
ripped apart
furniture, overturned tables, tore down tapestries, and
searched through every darkened corner.
Maids and servants were
lined up and interrogated.
Every secret passage was
unsealed.
Yet, no trace of her was found.
Not a fingerprint. Not a single
stray hair.
Only that single
black feather.
It was as if she had never been there at all.
The Hidden Watcher
Far above the chaos, nestled in the
hidden beams of the great hall’s ceiling
,
Seraphis watched.
Unseen. Unheard. Untouched.
She perched on a wooden support beam, legs crossed, a
single playing card twirling between her fingers.
Below her, knights
rushed in madness
, overturning chairs and slamming open doors.
A smile
curled
at her lips.
"Fools."
She had never left.
The palace was a
cage
, but the bars did not bind her.
She had
woven herself into its very walls, its very air.
The moment the knights left the throne room, she
dropped from the shadows like a whisper, landing soundlessly behind the King’s throne.
She pressed her
hand against the polished wood,
feeling the faint warmth where he had just sat.
Then, with a
chuckle
, she plucked a single
black feather from her sleeve
—a perfect match to the one on the table—
and placed it gently upon the King’s seat.
Then she was gone.
The King’s Nightmare
That night, the King sat alone in his chambers, his
wine untouched
, his
mind racing.
The castle had been
torn apart
, yet the only thing they had found was
another black feather—on his very throne.
His
fingers twitched
as he rubbed his temples.
"This isn't just an assassin… this is something else entirely."
His
paranoia deepened.
The candlelight in his room flickered.
His heartbeat quickened.
A
faint sound—like a whisper—brushed past his ear.
His breath
hitched.
He turned sharply—
Nothing.
But something
was there.
Something unseen.
Something waiting.
A
shiver
ran through him.
He did not sleep that night.
For the first time in his rule—
The King knew fear.