Red flames flickered across the capital, dancing inside the small fireplaces built along the stone walkways. Their glow gently thinned the darkness that still rested in doorways and corners. No one feared that darkness—it was the world's oldest comfort, a quiet presence that eased aches and stitched the spirit back together.
As the flames grew brighter, Raumhant stirred to life. Farmers rose with renewed strength. Miners felt their joints loosen without pain. Merchants laced their boots with surprising lightness. The night's darkness had restored them well.
From the Church of Evernight, the bells began their slow, deep ringing—calling nobles to rise. The castle, moments ago silent, awakened in waves: guards straightened their armor, servants shuffled hurriedly, and light pooled across the floors from lanterns and braziers.
A new day, some whispered.
A new life.
But one chamber remained untouched by the castle's warmth.
Count Bernardo sat alone on the edge of his bed, his hands wrapped around a cold piece of metal. The object felt unnaturally heavy, as if it was drawing the heat from his palms. He turned it slowly, running a thumb along its smooth barrel.
It felt like holding something carved from the deepest, untouched dark—cold not from nature, but from purpose.
Inez… my daughter.
The thought hollowed him.
He could almost see her small hands reaching for him, her puzzled frown when he would not return. She will miss me. The idea struck hard enough that a tear fell, landing on the metal with a soft, delicate tap.
Belinha… my lady.
Her name alone hurt.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "For everything you endured. For what I should have stopped. For what you suffered."
Inez was not his by blood, but she was his in every way that mattered. And Belinha—his wife, his partner—she had been his joy before the marriage vows.
And he had failed to protect her.
King Duarte had stolen that from him.
On their wedding day, the king had claimed the right to her bed.
When Belinha returned to him, the comforting yellow flame had burned so pale it was almost colorless. Bruises marked her face. Fine cuts lined her arms. Finger-shaped bruises wrapped around her throat. Her soft pink wedding dress had been shredded.
Bernardo had gathered her in his arms, helpless. Darkness drifted around them, soothing her trembling, quieting her sobs—yet even the healing dark could not take memory away.
Darkness restored the body, steadied the mind, softened pain.
But it did not erase what mattered.
Many men wished they could forget. He had long understood why.
"Ready, my lord."
Bernardo lifted his head. He had not heard the man enter.
A figure stood by the window, cloaked in black from crown to boot. Only two still, unblinking eyes showed beneath the hood. He seemed carved from the very shadows themselves.
Bernardo rose slowly and extended the metal object. The man accepted it, examined its cold length, and gave a faint nod.
"A shame," he said. He lifted the object, aiming it at Bernardo's forehead. "You were one of the last good men. His Grace wastes much."
Bernardo lowered himself to his knees, to the man who was to take his life. There was no fear left—only resignation.
"If you hold me in any regard," he murmured, "and if anything goes wrong… help my lady. And my daughter."
For a moment the figure hesitated, only a fragment of a heartbeat.
It was all the mercy Bernardo expected.
Then a click.
A burst of flame and thunder.
A single violent sound that split the castle.
Guards jolted. Servants screamed. Warriors sprinted through the corridors, weapons drawn. When they reached Bernardo's room, the door was wedged shut from inside.
"Step aside."
A massive bull of a man shoved the guards out of the way. With a single kick, he sent the door flying inward.
Inside, they found a man sprawled on the floor, blood pooling beneath his head.
"Fetch the queen," the tall man ordered. "And inform her that Count Bernardo has been murdered."
__ __ __ __
Dominic had eaten in a rush. Queen Meriam had called for his presence; he didn't know why, but his guess was tied to the sound he had heard while eating.
When he got close to where he was supposed to meet her, guards were forming a line no one could pass.
"Let me in, I'm Baron Dominic of the Empty Ocean Mines," he said. The guards, quick on their feet, moved aside without delay.
Surrounded by five knights plated in heavy armor was Queen Meriam. Their armor covered them head to toe—thick steel plates polished to a bright sheen. Each breastplate bore the engraved image of a rearing warhorse, its mane flowing like flames. Their pauldrons curved outward like shields, etched with patterns of galloping hooves. Their helmets were crafted with two pointed crests shaped like a horse's ears, giving them an intimidating, beastlike silhouette. Chainmail draped beneath the plates for extra protection, and their gauntlets were reinforced with ridged knuckles meant for breaking bone.
Queen Meriam stood at the center of them, her raven-black hair tied at the back of her head in a tight bun, sharpening the angles of her face. Though older, her gray skin was untouched by wrinkles; she still carried the beauty of a young woman.
"My queen," said Dominic, giving her a courteous bow.
"My lord Dominic, you're the first of the dragon riders to arrive," she said.
"May I ask why my presence was needed?" Dominic had theories galloping through his mind, but it was better to hear the truth from the queen.
"It is better if you see it for yourself, my lord." Meriam opened the door she had been waiting outside. Dominic leaned in for a peek. Inside, people in dark robes—members of the church—were inspecting the body of a man lying dead.
"Who is this lord my lady?" Dominic had no idea who the man was, but considering where he had been staying, he could only assume he was a high lord.
"Count Bernardo of Asfrodos. He came with a convoy of nobles to discuss trade… but as you can see, he's been murdered." The queen's face held a slight frown, and a small sigh escaped her.
A bad omen rose in Dominic's chest. A lord from another kingdom had died in their castle—problems of terrifying scale could follow. And the omen only worsened when he heard the sound of armor plates approaching. His gaze followed the clatter, and he saw a skinny man entering, followed by four knights with hands on their hilts.
The man was tall despite his frail build, his hair short at the sides and longer at the top, styled to hide a growing bald spot. The knights behind him wore armor different from the queen's—darker, heavier. Their chestplates were adorned with three crossed swords; the middle sword was the one that caught Dominic's attention. Its engraved blade was a deep crimson, and the hilt carved onto the armor brimmed with ruby-like stones and other shining gems.
Dominic doubted such a sword could—or should—exist in real life. And if it did, it must hurt to swing the thing.
"A glorious day, my lords and lady," said the skinny man with a smile stretching ear to ear.
"What's the meaning of this, Lord Hugo?" Queen Meriam's mood worsened at the sight of him. And not only hers—Dominic and the knights tensed as well.
The fact that Lord Hugo didn't bow before the queen was a great offense, yet no one could speak against him while a nobleman lay dead just meters away.
Lord Hugo clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "I don't understand, my lady. I just came to look at the noise, like everyone else."
"And so you require armored knights for a simple look, my lord?" The knights behind the queen shifted, ready for combat. Even Dominic's hand drifted to the dagger he always carried.
"Of course not, my lady. I simply don't feel secure, so I bring my knights even to shit." Lord Hugo took a few steps forward, and the queen backed away. "Also, I heard that my good friend Count Bernardo was staying nearby. You must understand how worried I am."
The queen's face turned cold as stone.
"It seems your worries were well-placed, Lord Hugo."
"Oh my, and why would that be?" said the lord.
"He was killed at Dark," the queen said without blinking. "When we arrived, his body was pale, and all the blood that had run through him had painted the room black."
Lord Hugo frowned, though the expression vanished quickly. One hand rose to cover his mouth as he started to breathe heavily.
"How can this be?" he said. "How can he die here, in the castle of the great Queen Meriam… unless—"
He looked around in panic, then hurried back toward his knights, retracing his own steps.
It was clear what he wanted to imply: an assassination plot.
But the queen remained calm.
"The castle is secure, my lord. But nothing can be done at Dark. Does Lord Bernardo have a mutant guard?"
Dominic, still tense, felt the atmosphere change. A battle could start at any moment. If anything goes wrong, the least I can do is save the queen, he thought.
That was when the sound of wings flapping echoed from outside.
Clareux was ready.