Luna Jamayah sat comfortably in her chair, her gown which had been beautified with golden embroideries shimmered under the warm glow of the chandeliers. Laughter and music filled the grand hall, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine. It was a night of celebration, an evening where warriors and nobles alike gathered in harmony, indulging in the finest luxuries the kingdom had to offer, She should have felt at ease. But then, something shifted in the atmosphere.
The windows of the great hall burst open, clattering against the wall, and a wave of cold wind slithered through the hall like an unseen serpent, making her shudder despite the warmth of the room. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as a deep sense of unease settled in her chest. Slowly, she turned her gaze toward her husband, Alpha Lucian. He sat beside her, smiling as he nodded to the rhythm of the band's lively tune.
His goblet of wine rested on the arm of his chair, his fingers lazily drumming against its surface. He was relaxed and unbothered. But when his eyes met hers, his expression changed. He saw the shift in her demeanor, the way her body had stiffened.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice low, meant only for her ears.
Jamayah hesitated before whispering, "Did you feel that?"
Lucian's brows furrowed. "Feel what?"
Her breath hitched. So it was only me. The spirits were speaking.
As the High Priestess of the Sisters of Hades, Jamayah had long held a connection to the world beyond. The spirits spoke to her in many ways, through dreams, visions, voices that only she could hear. But tonight, they had chosen something else. The wind. The very elements of the earth carried their warning.
She felt Lucian's hand squeeze hers, grounding her. "You've received a message, haven't you?" he murmured.
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "An evil is upon us, Lucian."
His body tensed at her words.
Her eyes scanned the grand hall, searching for signs of disturbance, but all she saw were the oblivious faces of their guests, laughing, drinking, dancing. But then, she noticed something. Amaya. Her heart skipped a beat.
Her daughter was nowhere to be seen.
"Amaya," she whispered, fear tightening her chest.
Lucian followed her gaze, his sharp eyes sweeping the hall. Realization struck him instantly. He shot up from his seat, the scrape of his chair against the stone floor drawing attention.
Philus was at his side in an instant. "Your Grace?"
Lucian's voice was steady but laced with urgency. "Take your men. Find the princess. Now. And stay alert."
Philus bowed sharply before turning on his heel, barking orders to his soldiers as they dispersed into the night.
Outside, under the silver glow of the moon, Amaya stood with Darkota near the palace gardens. The young warrior had approached her only moments ago, his face plain, his voice quiet yet firm as he introduced himself.
She repeated his name, testing it on her tongue. "Darkota."
The name was unfamiliar to her, yet it carried a weight she couldn't quite place. She turned her gaze forward, eyes tracing the palace walls as she thought aloud. "That's a name I've never heard before. Tell me, where are you from?"
There was silence, she turned back toward him, slightly annoyed. "I asked you a question."
But before she could finish, he interrupted her.
"Quiet."
Her brows knitted together. "Excuse me?"
Darkota's posture stiffened. His dark eyes scanned the surroundings, his muscles stiffened with tension. "Do you hear that, Your Highness?"
Amaya stilled, focusing.
At first, there was nothing, only the distant sounds of the feast inside. But then, she felt it. The garden flowers trembled. The bushes rustled, their leaves whispering secrets to the wind. Then, the breeze turned into something more, a heavy gust, aggressive and unrelenting. The trees groaned, their branches bending unnaturally, as if warning of something unseen.
Darkota stepped closer, lowering his voice. "We must leave, Your Highness. Now."
She didn't argue. Turning on her heel, she made her way back toward the palace doors. Darkota followed closely behind, his hand hovering near the hilt of his sword. They reached the entrance just as the heavy doors were pulled open. Luna Jamayah and Philus stood there, along with a group of guards, their faces full of concern.
The moment Jamayah saw her daughter, she exhaled sharply and pulled her into her arms. "Are you alright?"
Amaya nodded, her heart still racing. "Yes, Mother."
Alpha Lucian stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he glanced between the two of them. "What happened?"
Before Amaya could answer, another gust of wind howled through the entrance, sweeping through the courtyard like an unseen force. The trees groaned once more, their leaves twisting violently, then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. There was silence once again. A stillness that was almost unnatural. Jamayah turned, scanning the empty night. Whatever had been there… had vanished.
She turned to Darkota, the young guard who had brought her daughter to safety. "Well done," she said, nodding in approval.
Darkota bowed deeply. "It was my duty, Your Grace."
Amaya turned to her mother, her hands still trembling slightly. "What's going on?"
Jamayah's gaze was distant as she whispered, "The spirits warn me, Amaya. There was an evil presence."
Amaya's breath caught. "But it's gone now?"
Jamayah nodded slowly. "It seems to have left. But it was here."
A shiver ran down Amaya's spine. Her mind raced, connecting pieces of a puzzle she had yet to fully understand. "Could it be…?"
Her mother met her gaze, a knowing sadness in her eyes.
"It could only be."
The night stretched on, the celebration within the hall continuing as if nothing had happened. Yet, outside in the courtyard, they all stood in silence, knowing the truth.
Something had come for them tonight.
And it would not be the last time.