The grand banquet hall was alive with music and celebration. Golden chandeliers bathed the room in warm light, and the air was thick with the scent of fine wines and exotic dishes. Nobles and warriors, descendants of Rex, filled the space, their laughter and conversation masking the tensions brewing beneath the surface.
At the center of it all stood Mariah, her presence commanding yet distant. She had agreed to attend, if only for a brief moment, but the weight of centuries pressed upon her.
The Dance with the Guardian King
As the music shifted to a slow, elegant rhythm, the Guardian King approached, extending his hand.
"An honor, my Queen," he said, a small smile on his lips.
Mariah hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. The two moved in perfect synchronization, their steps echoing a deep understanding formed over centuries. The King's strength was evident in his controlled movements, but Mariah… she danced with a grace that felt almost unreal, as if time itself bent around her.
As they turned, she caught glimpses of faces in the crowd—some filled with admiration, others with unease. She knew what they whispered. She has been distant for too long. She is more legend than ruler now.
The Guardian King sensed her thoughts. His voice was quiet but firm.
"They still look to you, Mariah. You have not been forgotten."
She did not answer.
A Moment with Rex
As the song ended, Rex stepped forward. His presence was different—less regal, more grounded. He had always been the one who walked among the people, who lived and bled beside them.
"It has been too long, sister," he said, offering his hand for the next dance.
Mariah sighed but allowed herself to be led. They danced as they once did in their youth—though back then, it had been on a battlefield, amidst war cries rather than music.
"You don't have to keep yourself apart," Rex murmured. "The people need to see you. I need to see you."
Mariah met his gaze, searching for something. But before she could answer—
The Vision
The music dulled. The lights dimmed.
Mariah's steps faltered as the world blurred around her. She saw something—shapes forming in the corners of her vision. The figures were hazy, shifting between darkness and clarity.
Four silhouettes.
Then—her mother. Her father.
Their faces were unclear, but she felt them watching. Judging.
A sharp pain lanced through her chest. The warmth of the hall disappeared, replaced by a chilling void.
"Mother… why did you abandon us?"
Mariah gasped, the voice echoing in her skull.
The moment shattered. The banquet hall snapped back into focus. Music played, people laughed—but everything felt wrong.
Rex's hand was still on her wrist. His voice was distant. "Mariah? What's wrong?"
She pulled away. Without a word, she turned and left the hall.
The Maid's Concern
Mariah's personal maid, Elara, hurried after her, concern etched across her face. She found Mariah standing at the edge of her chambers, staring at the flickering lanterns as if lost in a world only she could see.
"My lady," Elara spoke softly, stepping inside. "Are you unwell?"
Mariah didn't turn. "I saw them, Elara. My creations… my parents. But it wasn't real. Or maybe it was."
The maid hesitated before gently guiding Mariah to her bed. "You need rest, my Queen."
Mariah did not argue. As she lay down, Elara covered her with a warm silk blanket, but the chill in Mariah's bones would not fade.
As sleep took her, the whispers returned.
"We are waiting, Mother."
And the night stretched long.
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