The capital buzzed with
unease.
From the
noble estates
to the
commoner streets,
everyone whispered the same thing—
"The King is cursed."
They spoke of
strange shadows
in the palace, of his sleepless nights and growing paranoia. Of the
black feathered omen
that arrived with the Third Prince’s gruesome death.
Of the
letter
—the one written in his
own son’s blood.
The King, once feared and revered, now walked with
haunted eyes
.
And Seraphis?
She
giggled
in the darkness.
"I guess it’s true," she mused, perching on a rooftop in her
white raven form
. "After all, I was the one who spread the rumor."
The city below her
shivered in fear
—and she
bathed in the chaos.
But her work was far from over.
There was still
one more piece
to move.
The
Queen.
A Queen’s Crimes
The Queen was known for her
beauty, her grace, and her cunning.
But behind her
golden silks and jeweled crown
was a woman steeped in
blood and deceit.
She was responsible for
kidnappings, poisonings, and silencing anyone who dared defy her.
She framed
innocents
for her
own crimes
—turning once-loyal subjects into
convicts and corpses.
She had
killed, erased, and rewritten history
for the sake of her throne.
And Seraphis?
She
couldn’t wait
to meet her.
The Infiltration
The
palace gates
were under heavy guard.
Since Lucius’s
death
, security had
tripled.
Crossbows aimed from
every tower.
Mages
reinforced the walls with enchantments.
And the King himself
barely slept
, always watching, always waiting for the next attack.
Seraphis, still in her
raven form
, soared above it all.
She
glided over the palace gardens
, her white feathers
catching the moonlight.
Then, in a whisper of
magic and shadow,
she
shifted.
One moment, a bird.
The next—
a royal maid.
With a
silver tray
in her hands and a
bow of servitude
, she
slipped past the guards
like a shadow in the night.
No one questioned her.
No one
saw her for what she was.
She moved with
trained grace
, step by step, towards the
Queen’s chamber.
A Late-Night Visit
The Queen’s private quarters were
lavish and suffocating.
Golden chandeliers. Velvet drapes. The lingering scent of lavender and perfume.
She was seated by her vanity, brushing her
obsidian-black hair
, humming to herself.
"Another sleepless night, Your Majesty?"
The Queen
froze.
Her gaze met the
strange maid
reflected in the mirror.
A maid she
didn’t recognize.
Seraphis smiled,
slow and knowing.
"Forgive me for intruding," she continued, stepping closer. "But I’ve prepared a special tea… just for you."
She
set down the tray
, lifting the
ornate teacup
with elegant fingers.
"A blend of the rarest herbs, meant to soothe the mind… and loosen the tongue."
The Queen narrowed her eyes.
"Who sent you?"
Seraphis chuckled.
"Does it matter?"
The Queen studied her for a moment—then, with a calculated smile, took the cup.
And
drank.
The Taste of Terror
It took
seconds.
Her grip
tightened
around the teacup.
Her
breath hitched.
Her body
stiffened.
The Queen
gasped
, eyes wide in horror as she
tried to move
—but found she
couldn’t.
Her
limbs felt heavy
, her
tongue sluggish.
"Paralysis?" she managed to choke out.
Seraphis
sighed dramatically
, taking the cup from her shaking hands.
"Oh no, nothing so simple."
She
tilted the Queen’s chin up
, her touch
cold as death.
"It’s something much more fun."
The Queen’s
heart pounded.
She could still
breathe.
Still
see.
Still
think.
But she couldn’t
move.
Couldn’t
scream.
Couldn’t do anything but
watch
—as Seraphis took out her
playing cards
and began to
sharpen them.
"Now then, Your Majesty… shall we play a game?"
The Game of Truth
Seraphis plucked a
single playing card
and held it before the Queen’s
terrified gaze.
"Each question I ask, you will answer."
She twirled the card.
"If I suspect you’re lying… well, let’s just say this card is very, very sharp."
She let the blade-like edge
graze the Queen’s cheek.
A thin
red line
appeared, followed by a slow, beading
drop of blood.
The Queen
shuddered.
Seraphis smiled.
"Good. Now… let’s begin."