Night has fallen over the battlefield. The moonlight dances over bloodied steel and fallen soldiers. The silence is heavy - until Seraphine walks through it, not as a survivor but as a warning.
She knelt only once - to claim her sword from the chest of a dying general.
They had named her monster. Cursed her with titles forged in fear. But monsters don't bleed for their people. Queens do.
But she?
She was both.
A messenger, trembling, approached her with shaky hands.
She took the scroll, didn't blink as she read the seal- House Thorne
The words sliced deeper than any blood could.
"Your highness.... Your engagement has been formally announcedannounced. "
Engaged.
To the crown prince of a peace-treaty nation. A fragile promise wrapped in politics. Not love. Not loyalty. Not even respect.
No one spoke of the battlefield she just survived.
No one sang of the blood she spilled.
She crushed the scroll in her fist, "Let them rejoice, "she whispered to the wind.
"Alone finally, " The campfire flickered low in her tent. She stared at crushed scroll - mocking her with it's pristine gold lettering.
Outside, wind whistled like a whispered promise.
Unseen, unheard, he stood on the ridge above, watching the fire in her eyes, weight on her shoulders.
"Not yet, "he murmured, voice low and dark, " But soon. "
In the dark, where monsters watched and king bled
She ruled alone - and yet, she was not alone.
And the one who would burn down the world for her had already begun to move.