Eons ago, Exorios was blessed with the gift of magicke. A comet or a meteor brought this to the world, forming the Nexus. A place of pure, unadulterated magicke too dangerous for anyone to touch and see. It changed all of existence—babies born with touches of magicke and even flora and fauna that no one had ever seen before.

A curse or a gift? No one was sure.

But it soon became apparent what the Nexus could be used for. War.

A never ending cycle of bloodshed spun to infinity; an endless demise of nameless, now forgotten people. Countries waged war for food, for resources, and eventually, for territory. And then it clicked; he who controls the Nexus, controls the world. Blood soon tainted the land and weakened magicke into near inexistence.

Among those who competed for the right to Nexus were the Haskovian Dynasty and the Rhyrins, the Wards of the Mountain Below. They were at an advantage, being within the immediate vicinity of the sought after land.

Ultimately, the First King of Haskova, Ramin, won the rights for his motives were pure: The Nexus must be sealed away and no longer used as a political tool. Whereas, Commander General Malik Rhyrin wanted it to strengthen military power.

The Haskovian Dynasty became the Protectors of That Which Remains and although it was not their main goal, the political tide tilted to their advantage.

The people favored Ramin’s decision as they were weary of war; they had lost too much and sought only to rebuild. The Haskovian natural resources became desired by many with the belief that the Nexus had improved the material. Trade routes were established and their economy grew.

Haskova flourished. Rhyrin grew bitter.

Tension between the two kingdoms never truly disappeared. War could break out at any given moment, so the people tread carefully. But the marriage agreement has eased their minds. The union of the two kingdoms was publicly announced six months ago at the Festival of Spring. Parades were held to celebrate an end to their rivalry and the blossoming of a peaceful future.

The common folk rejoiced and often whispered about how the union was a marriage of love blessed by Fate. The crown prince was said to have made frequent visits to the neighboring kingdom in pursuit of Lucille and he was able to win her heart over time. Too bad their days as a couple would not last.

I never cared for love stories anyway.

Moments ago, the troupe of dancers were permitted entry to the palace to perform for the grand celebration. We have been here for over a week and today is finally show time. Everyone is wearing an elegant costume adorned with jewels. What a shame I would not get to keep the ensemble. I sigh, carefully brushing my blonde hair and fixing it with ornaments.

“Hey, new girl! Ask the maids to fetch us some tea,” says one of the ladies.

I bow and slip out of the door, hurriedly walking towards the eastern wing of the palace where Lucille currently stayed. Based on her daily routine the past week, she should be having tea at the inner courtyard right about now.

Stolen novel; please report.

I slip in through the glass doors and the aroma is immediately filled with fragrant floral notes. The stone pathway meanders through an assortment of bushes and flower arrangements, leading to a willow tree in the center. It is a sanctuary free from the clamor of festivities and sea of people. Kneeling to admire a flowery bush, I take off my gloves and feel for the velvety petals of the biggest rose.

“You there,” a deep voice calls from behind, “The celebration is that way.”

I turn around and look up. A blonde man towers over me, his icy blue eyes piercing the air with a cool intensity enough for a shiver to travel down my spine. There is an otherworldly sharpness to his features—broad shoulders, high cheekbones, and a perfectly chiseled jawline—enough to have all artists clamoring to make him their muse. His clothing is perfectly tailored to his form, intentionally designed to display wealth and authority. Even without it I would let him tower over me— the man was simply beautiful.

“Greetings to the crown prince. I have found myself lost and ask for your pardon,” I say, lowering my gaze and standing up to curtsy.

“It’s alright, rise and be on your way,” he says, examining me with a cold, unyielding glare.

The prince is on guard and unnecessary to make an enemy of. Just as I turn to leave, a pale woman emerges from behind a tree. I see now why they named her after the light of moondust. She is the embodiment of moonlight, glowing with a quiet majesty and ridding every shadowed corner of darkness. Perhaps if she shone bright enough, her light could absolve me of my neverending torment.

“May fate be good to you, Princess Lucille,” I bow.

“May fate bless you,” she smiles.

The young couple perhaps wanted a few moments away from the busy day. I hide a smirk, I am probably intruding on a romantic rendezvous and should at least allow them some final moments together. Not.

“I hope I did not interrupt your tryst,” I tease and Lucille lets out a small laugh—

“You are a beautiful young lady,” a familiar voice steps in.

Does he not trust me to get the job done?

“Uncle Rowe, what brings you here?” Lucille asks. The general wore an ensemble similar to Lucille’s dress but aside from it and their hair, the two are nothing alike.

“It seems our secret hideaway is much too occupied today,” the crown prince bitterly murmurs and steps closer to Lucille’s side.

“I came to fetch the both of you,” General Rowe tells them, “The ceremony is about to start.”

“I suppose I should bid you my farewell. May your love be eternal, your highnesses,” I smile and move to take Lucille’s hand. The crown prince tries to stop me but Lucille motions for him to let me be. I give her hand a kiss.

A kiss of death.

“It seems Crown Prince Serevin is rather clingy today. It must be the nerves,” General Rowe teasingly muses, a dark glint flashes in his eyes and is gone with a blink.

“I will be off now. I humbly apologize for the intrusion,” I bow.

The poison should immediately spread once contact is made. But it only kills when one falls into deep sleep. There are no apparent signs of contact either.

Now all that is left to do is wait.

And enjoy the banquet cake.