---
"Listen to me," Qaya called out as she followed after Jaslin.
"Please, cuz—"
Jaslin suddenly stopped and turned to face Qaya, anger and pain etched into her features.
"Cuz? Am I really your 'cuz'?" Her voice shook. "What was all that nonsense that woman was sprouting? Tell me it's nonsense."
Qaya remained silent, her hands curling into fists as she fought the urge to cry. When she woke up this morning, she never imagined any of this would happen.
"I was suspicious," Jaslin continued, her voice rising. "You losing your memories, insisting on going by QayaWright of all names, how easily you slipped into a commoner's life. That comment about you knowing about slaves—it all makes sense. But even then, I never imagined this. What do you mean some person is in Mahalia's body? Where is she?"
"Jaslin—" Qaya faltered, unable to continue. She didn't know what to say. She had just as many questions—if not more.
Jaslin turned away, walking toward her room, her movements sluggish with grief.
Qaya took a step forward.
"Don't," Jaslin said, her voice hollow. "I can't bear to look at you."
The door slammed shut. The only sound left in the silence was Qaya's soft sobs.
She moved toward a chair, but her knees gave out, and she sank to the floor. A gnawing, unbearable urge to tear at her skin gripped her. She had deprived someone of their life.
"Mahalia?" she whispered, her voice a choked sob.
Her mind swam with thoughts of the woman who had fought so hard to reunite with someone who no longer remembered her. Now, Mahalia was gone—and it was her fault.
A soft thud of approaching footsteps made Qaya stiffen.
"That must have been a lot," Rivan muttered as he walked up to her.
Qaya let out a bitter chuckle. "It was."
"Don't blame yourself. It's not like you wanted any of this to happen."
Qaya turned to him, surprised. "What do you know?"
"I heard some of your conversation. We all did." Rivan sighed. "Zachary was the one who suggested I follow you two. Not sure why he isn't here."
Qaya winced, rubbing her temples. The memory of her last conversation with Zachary was still fresh and raw.
"I appreciate you checking on me," she said softly. "But Jaslin needs it more. Aside from the big news, she must feel betrayed by me."
Rivan gave her a skeptical look.
"I mean it," Qaya insisted. "She needs it more than me. And I... I need silence. I need to be alone so I can sort my thoughts."
Rivan nodded and walked toward Jaslin's room.
"I said not to follow me!" Jaslin's muffled voice came from inside.
"I noticed you didn't lock the door," Rivan remarked. "Were you expecting someone?"
Jaslin shot up from the bed, startled.
"Don't look so disappointed. I'm no Mahalia, but—"
"Don't you dare say her name," Jaslin growled, her teeth clenched.
"I apologize," Rivan said, crouching beside her. His steady gaze lingered on her, unreadable.
Jaslin squirmed under the weight of his stare. Just as she was about to snap at him, Rivan handed her a handkerchief.
She blinked at it, confused.
With an exasperated sigh, Rivan reached forward and wiped her tears himself.
Jaslin's face burned, and she snatched the handkerchief from him, hastily dabbing at her eyes.
The silence stretched until Rivan finally spoke.
"The ancient prophecy."
"What?" Jaslin snorted, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation.
"I apologize," Rivan admitted. "I'm struggling to find a way to console you."
Jaslin rolled her eyes. "Let me guess—it's not your thing?"
"On the contrary, it is my thing." His voice was quiet. "After losing my father and elder brothers to war, I had to console my family."
Jaslin's expression softened. "I didn't mean—"
"No, I'm not saying this to make you feel bad." Rivan shook his head. "I just think you need to hear this prophecy."
Jaslin straightened up, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh? A tale about a bunch of stones and a dark queen? That will surely help me with my grief."
Rivan ignored her sarcasm and continued.
"Before I tell you the prophecy, you need to understand the circumstances under which it was spoken."
---
[Flashback]
Many years ago...
The day of the royal coronation had arrived. The air was thick with tension as the tall, lanky woman walked toward the throne.
After years of bloodshed and war for the throne, an unlikely candidate had emerged victorious: Athinia.
"Do you think she's fit to rule?" someone whispered.
"Easteford is already struggling—we can't afford a weak leader."
"Forget that she's a woman," another scoffed. "She's been frail since birth, constantly sick. She's in no position to rule."
"She'll ruin us."
The murmurs buzzed around Athinia, but she ignored them. She had spent years watching her siblings tear each other apart for the throne, unknowingly clearing the path for her.
Six months into her reign, the tides began to turn. People saw her competence—but their reservations remained.
"Your Highness, when will you take a husband?" an elder from the council asked.
Athinia lazily traced her fingers along the arm of her throne. "Apologies, council elder, but I've been rather busy... runningthekingdom. My father didn't leave me much to work with, after all."
The elder frowned. "I understand, but a queen needs a king. It is only right."
Athinia's fingers stilled. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, pinning the elder with a look so heavy he fell to his knees.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice dripping with venom.
"It's important that you marry—"
"That's not what you said." Athinia's voice thundered through the hall. "You traitor!"
The entire court dropped to their knees in fear.
"You planned to usurp my throne," she accused.
"I would never dare!" the elder pleaded, pressing his forehead to the floor.
"So when you spoke of a 'king,' you didn't mean to have him rule in my stead while you disposed of me?"
The silence was deafening.
"I. Am. Your. King." Athinia declared, her words final.
The elder trembled. "Forgive me, Your Highness. It was a mistake."
Athinia offered him a bitter smile. "Then I will extend my lenient hand."
She crouched before him, stretching out a hand. The elder hesitated before taking it, confused.
"Send him to the Oubliette," she commanded, yanking her hand away.
Guards seized him as Athinia turned to the rest of the room.
"There's only so much my benevolence can grant," she murmured.
---
After the Meeting
As soon as they were alone in the office, Fernie, Athinia's close friend and confidant, spoke up.
"You don't actually think you were being merciful, do you?"
Athinia, scribbling lazily on a piece of parchment, didn't look up. "I take it that your work is done and you've somehow managed to solve all of Easteford's problems?"
"That aside," Fernie said, undeterred. "You do need to get married soon. It's required by law."
"I will not be taking a king. I am already king. No nation can have two kings."
Fernie sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Permit me to ask—why are you so averse to being called queen? And besides, you need to get married soon, or people will start questioning your rule."
"Then I will kill them. And their entire families. For mutiny and treason," Athinia stated matter-of-factly.
Fernie let out an exasperated breath. "No, Your Highness, you can't keep killing people."
"Seems like the most effective way to stop the naysayers," she replied, finally setting her quill down. "I do my utmost best, yet people only see my weaknesses."
Fernie tilted his head. "Weakness? But even you know you have weaknesses."
Athinia's smile turned grim. "You know how much I hate flattery."
"That's why I don't do it," Fernie shot back.
"I was not only born with a frail constitution—I was born a woman. If I can't eliminate those weaknesses, then I'll eliminate the people who remind me of them."
Fernie ran a hand through his hair, sighing again. "Is that why you were 'merciful' this morning? Because you didn't want to display anything remotely considered feminine—like compassion?"
Athinia looked pleased. "You know me so well." She leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "As for my marriage, compile a list of eligible bachelors in the kingdom. I'll be taking a consort." She emphasized the word with a mocking smirk.
"Any preferences to narrow the selection?"
Athinia blinked at him, confused. Fernie returned the look.
Then she chuckled. "Preferences? Selection? Who said anything about a final choice?" She stretched her arms above her head, then yawned. "I'll be picking everyone on the list."
Fernie opened his mouth to argue but promptly closed it.
Four Years Later
In the delegation room of the palace, tensions ran high.
"The Grand Tsar has insisted that we no longer allow Eastefordian cargo in our ports," announced the head of the Kusuk delegation.
Athinia's jaw tensed. "Why would your ruler say that? We have a standing agreement, do we not?"
"That is true, King Athinia, but your goods are destabilizing our economy. And there is also the matter of you poaching our talents."
Athinia spat onto the polished floor, startling everyone in attendance.
She looked different now—her once lanky frame had been replaced by solid muscle. Her hair was cropped close to her scalp, and she wore the attire of a man, a king, rather than a queen.
"So you expect us to suffer for your own ruler's incompetence?" Her voice was calm, but her gaze burned. "We have a standingagreement."
"We understand, and we deeply regret the situation. We will compensate you to the best of our abilities."
Athinia rose to her feet in a slow, deliberate motion, her piercing gaze locking onto the delegation head. She leaned in slightly, exuding the quiet menace of a predator sizing up its prey.
"Not five years ago, Kusuk barely paid attention to Easteford. Now, we are a force to reckon with. Did you think I raised this kingdom to prosperity by accepting pitygifts?"
"Your Highness—"
"Enough. I am not finished."
The air grew heavy.
"You have chosen to betray us. And so, I will hold nofault if our northern dam is… opened. For, say, five minutes?"
The delegation head paled. "That would drown millions—!"
"Yes. I am aware of that," Athinia answered, sounding mildly annoyed.
"You would be penalized for such an atrocity!"
"Perhaps. But would your incompetent Grand Tsar have time to push for my punishment while battling a rebellion?"
The man's breath caught in his throat. "W-what?"
"I assumed you would have suspected it already," Athinia mused. "After all, you mentioned poaching. You see, I hold your nation in my hands. And all it takes is oneletter to bring it to ruin.
"All I ask is the leeway to move through your waters. How much more merciful do I have to be?"
Silence.
The delegation head swallowed hard. "We… will speak to the Tsar."
Later That Night
Athinia ran a hand through her short hair, exhaling tiredly as she pushed open the door.
"Your Highness," a voice greeted.
"Evening, Fernie."
Fernie sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. "What brings you here so late?"
Athinia waved a hand dismissively. "Stay where you are." She sank into the sofa facing him. "I wanted to drink. And I didn't want to be alone."
"I take it the meeting was a success?" Fernie poured them both a drink. "So why do you look so… forlorn?"
"The Grand Tsar," Athinia muttered. "That imbecile made me show my hand sooner than I intended."
Fernie said nothing, his expression pensive.
"The crown prince searched for you," he eventually said.
Athinia downed her drink. "Again?"
"He made you a birthday card."
She sighed. "Is it just me, or is that boy a bit too clingy?"
Fernie frowned. "He's four, Athinia. He's supposed to be clingy. You're his mother."
"He has countlessfathers who would happily spend time with him."
"And that's the problem," Fernie shot back. "He has toomany. They tread carefully around him, unsure if he's theirs or not. And…"
Athinia climbed into Fernie's bed, cutting him off. "Then you can always spend time with him."
Fernie went quiet.
Athinia studied him. "I shouldn't have joked about that, huh?"
"Athinia," Fernie said at last, his voice strained. "People are talking."
"Let them." She nestled against him.
"No." His voice was firm. "I can't let them. He lookslikeme, and people are starting to notice."
Athinia stilled. "So?"
"Someone called him a bastard this morning."
Her head snapped up. "Who?"
"As much as I hate to say it… they aren't wrong. I'm not your consort."
"Is that what this is about? You want to be my consort?"
"No. You've asked me before, and my answer hasn't changed."
"Then what?"
"I plan on traveling north. After a while, the rumors will die down if I'm no longer in his life. I want to watch him grow, but not if it means he'll have to do so as a pariah."
"Which district will you be heading to?"
"No, Athinia. I'm not staying in Easteford—I'm going north, past the borders... to Siera."
"What?" Athinia's voice sharpened. "Fernie, for goodness' sake, you're planning to leave your own nation over a bunch of rumors?"
Fernie remained silent.
Athinia studied her for a moment before her expression darkened. "Fernie, is there something else going on?"
He hesitated, then admitted, "I've been thinking of leaving for quite sometime Arthur just helped drive the point home"
Athinia stiffened. "What?"
Fernie sighed. "Athinia, I can't bear to look at the woman you've become. Just look at your self" he pointed at her disappointedly.
Athinia scoffed. "Is my appearance truly so repulsive that you'd rather move halfway across the world?"
"It's not your appearance," Fernie whispered, voice thick with something unspoken. "Athinia... what did you do?"
Athinia tilted her head, unfazed. "I'm healthy, aren't I?"
"That's exactly the problem, you're too healthy" Fernie said, voice trembling with restrained fury. "You were so obsessed with eliminating weakness that you—" he swallowed hard, "—you used innocent lives as nothing more than... fuel. You disgust me. I can't bear to look at you."
For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Athinia let out a soft chuckle. "So, the cat is out of the bag. Tell me, Fernie, is what I did truly so detestable?"
Fernie rose from his seat and strode to the door, pushing it open. "I entrust Arthur to you," he said without turning back. "Let him be the one act of good you do in this wretched world."
---
A thick crowd had gathered on the main road, their murmurs hushed by the weight of the sight before them. In the dim alley, the lifeless bodies of children were being pulled from the shadows, their tiny frames twisted in unnatural angles.
The scene was horrifying. Organs were missing—some without hearts, others with their intestines spilling out where their kidneys or livers should have been. Blood soaked the stones beneath them, forming sluggish rivers of crimson that ran through the cracks.
A carriage driver, watching from the roadside, paled. "Those children... I recognize some of them."
"What?" Iris Ceria turned sharply.
"They lived in an orphanage downtown," the driver muttered, voice unsteady. "What kind of horrors have been happening there?"
Iris let out a slow breath, his heart heavy. He wanted to help, to demand answers—but he had somewhere to be. He was a priest of the Ganilean Sanctuary, and his duty awaited. Still, he made a silent vow to arrange proper funeral rites for the children.
"Sir, could you speed up the carriage? I'm running late."
The driver snapped the reins, and the ride became rougher as they hurried toward the sanctuary. Despite the jostling, exhaustion overtook Iris, and he drifted into sleep.
---
When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the carriage.
A brilliant, searing light burned over a vast body of water—water thick with blood. The glow was blinding, its heat unbearable, yet children moved toward it. The very same orphans he had just seen.
The fire burned brighter as they approached, but the water darkened, its stench turning unbearable. Then, a lone child, smaller than the rest, emerged from the murk. In her tiny hands, she held an Astra-powered lantern, its eerie glow cutting through the foul darkness.
She did not enter the fire like the others. Instead, she turned and stared directly at him.
A shiver ran down Iris's spine.
Slowly, she knelt by the water's edge, dunking the lantern into the murky depths. A haunting melody—soft, yet piercing—rose from her lips, a call-song that rippled through the air like an unseen current.
The light of the lantern reached deep into the abyss. Then, something moved.
A sliver of darkness—thicker than the water, blacker than night—rose from below. It twisted and churned, shaped like a figure yet inhuman in form. The deeper the lantern's light pierced, the more defined it became—until, at last, it took the shape of a young girl.
She walked toward the fire.
With each step, the flames flickered, dimming, weakening. And then—
The light exploded into nothingness.
The murky waters stilled. Where the children's graves once lay, a field of breathtaking flowers now bloomed, their petals trembling in the aftermath of the vanished inferno.
---
Athinia stood in the Ganilean Sanctuary, her patience wearing thin. "What does this vision mean?"
The priests exchanged uneasy glances, their silence heavy with withheld knowledge.
She turned to Iris, her eyes narrowing. "You. You received the prophecy. Speak, or I will see your entire lineage erased from this world."
Iris met her gaze unflinchingly. "The Queen of Darkness comes," he said evenly. "The one who holds Astra will light her path—leading to the destruction of the Bright Inferno."
Athinia's expression darkened. "Priest, I didn't summon you for riddles."
"Forgive me, Your Highness, but the prophecy is self-explanatory," Iris replied, his tone calm yet unwavering. "The Bright Inferno is Easteford. Or, more precisely... your family."
A furious voice cut through the chamber. "What defiance is this?" the King thundered.
"I merely deliver the message given to me," Iris answered.
Athinia paced, her mind racing. After a long silence, she stopped and turned to the gathered priests.
"I know every single person in this room. If a word of this prophecy leaves these walls, I will slaughter you and your families like pigs."
The head priest hesitated before speaking. "Your Highness... the prophecy was received in the presence of an audience. It is safe to assume that word has already begun to spread."
Athinia's jaw tightened. "They weren't inside his mind, were they?" She exhaled sharply. "Spin the prophecy however you need. Speak of the coming of a queen and Astra—twist it in whatever way benefits us."
[End of the Flashback]
---
Jaslin, now dry-eyed, broke the silence.
"I'm... touched," she admitted, "and intrigued. And I have so many questions*. But right now, I just want to know—what does all this mean?"
Rivan exhaled slowly. His gaze shifted toward the closed door.
"I believe," he said, voice measured, "that the Queen of Darkness is the very person sitting outside this room."
----
[To Be Continued]