Chapter 2 - THE QUEEN WHO MURDERED A BLOODLINE
Queen Seraphine had ordered hundreds of executions in her lifetime.
She had sentenced rebellious nobles to death, burned forbidden libraries, and imprisoned anyone who questioned her right to rule.
But never had she felt fear like this.
The spirit standing before her was King Aurion.
The First King.
The founder of Aurelith.
And according to every official history, a man who had died three centuries earlier.
“You’re an illusion,” Seraphine whispered.
The spectral king stepped toward her.
Golden flames rose beneath his feet.
“Would an illusion remember the blood upon your hands?”
Seraphine’s expression hardened.
“That blood saved this kingdom.”
“That blood belonged to children.”
The words echoed through the ruined throne room.
Elara stared at the Queen.
Children.
The elderly priest had spoken of a murdered royal bloodline.
Now the ancient king had confirmed it.
Elara felt sick.
She had spent years watching Seraphine order servants punished for breaking dishes or speaking without permission.
But she had never imagined the Queen was capable of murdering infants.
Seraphine suddenly reached beneath her velvet cloak.
She withdrew a small black crystal.
Aldric immediately recognized it.
The Shadow Stone.
An object forbidden by royal law.
“Your Majesty,” he warned, “do not use that.”
Seraphine ignored him.
She slammed the crystal against the floor.
Black smoke erupted.
The golden spirit screamed as dark chains wrapped around his arms.
Elara clutched her burning wrist.
She felt the king’s pain as though it were her own.
Seraphine raised both hands.
“You should have remained buried, Aurion!”
The spirit struggled.
The Golden Hand pulsed.
Then an ancient voice whispered inside Elara’s mind.
Run.
She stumbled backward.
The spirit’s voice grew weaker.
You are not ready.
Seraphine turned toward the guards.
“SEIZE HER!”
Six armored soldiers rushed forward.
Elara ran.
Her bare feet slipped across the fractured marble.
A soldier grabbed her shoulder.
Without thinking, she raised her marked hand.
A golden shock wave erupted.
The guard crashed into a pillar.
Elara stared at her fingers.
She had never performed magic.
She had never even been allowed to read the palace’s spellbooks.
Another soldier advanced.
Elara turned and fled through the servants’ entrance.
She sprinted down the narrow corridor, past kitchens, storage rooms, and the chapel where she once prayed to gods who never answered.
Behind her, the guards shouted.
“STOP!”
Elara reached the western stairwell.
A tall young man stepped into her path.
Prince Kael.
Seraphine’s only son.
He wore dark traveling clothes beneath a royal cloak, his black hair damp from the rain outside.
“Elara?”
She stopped so suddenly she nearly fell.
“Your Highness!”
He caught her arm.
“What happened?”
“Your mother wants me dead.”
Kael stared.
Then he noticed the golden mark on her wrist.
His expression changed.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Elara stepped away.
“Please don’t hurt me.”
Something painful crossed his face.
He slowly removed his sword belt and laid it on the floor.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
Behind them, footsteps thundered down the corridor.
Kael looked toward the approaching guards.
Then he grabbed Elara’s hand.
“Come with me.”
They rushed through a hidden doorway behind a tapestry.
The passage descended into darkness.
Elara struggled to keep pace.
“Why are you helping me?”
Kael stopped at a narrow landing.
He turned toward her.
“Because I’ve spent three years trying to find the last survivor of the Golden Dynasty.”
Elara stared at him.
“Why?”
His answer was barely a whisper.
“Because my mother ordered me to kill her.”
Above them, a guard shouted that the Prince had disappeared.
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Kael tightened his grip on Elara’s hand.
“And because I swore I would never obey.”
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