BOOK 1

THE QUEEN’S CRASH LANDING

Queen vs. Charming-Lite

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Every story craved a villain — the twist, the hook, the thorn in the hero's side. Heroes? Predictable happily-ever-afters! Villains? Delightful uncertainties.

Would they be deliciously crispy, dramatically sacrificed, or, well, just plain…

Dead? Oh, the variety!

The windows shook violently as an ear-splitting explosion shattered Eydis’s train of thought. Dressed in midnight silk, the young queen observed the destruction with a faint, indifference smile.

"Maybe," she murmured, "I'm the twist."

Perhaps conquering the realm would have to wait. The "Virtuous" Saintess and her himbo sidekick, Prince Charming-Lite had clearly gotten wind of her plans.

Father had drilled her in ruling, politics, and even the dreaded budgeting (shudder). None of it, apparently, prepared her for the ultimate weapon: the power of... loooooooooove?

Eydis winced as another groan echoed through the chamber, this time accompanied by the loud crunch of plaster. A near miss. Guess being the villainess also meant being the bullseye.

"Another budgetary nightmare," Eydis sighed, dodging a cascade of plaster. Was she not the main character of her own story? The longer she considered it, the sharper the ache in her head grew.

The heavy oak door splintered inwards, revealing the said hero who seemed to have tumbled out of a romance novel cover - all shimmering flowing silver hair, eyes, and probably even socks.

"Surrender!" Damien roared. "Your reign of chaos ends NOW!"

How rude!

"Charming-Lite, must you punctuate every word with a war cry? My migraines are acting up enough as it is,” Eydis muttered, rubbing her temples. “Let's cut to the inevitable fight scene, shall we?"

Damien, the knight with the forgettable last name (much like her own, a troubling realisation), sputtered in confusion. His predictable script seemed to have jammed. He raised his sword, caught between bracing for a witty quip or a bolt of dark magic.

"Your timing could use some work," Eydis quipped, eyeing the mess around her. "This redecorating was growing on me. I suppose it’s one way to cut down on demolition costs.” Her words were sharp, but the slight shake in her fingers said otherwise.

The grand chamber, once a sanctuary of her youth, had become a battleground—partly her own doing. A sharp pang pierced her heart. Ignore it. Stick to the script.

Wait?!

As the realisation dawned, an unsettling ripple tore through the air—a tremor that felt suspiciously unrelated to the chaos. However, pondering plot holes would have to wait. Villain monologues don't speak themselves, and she had a reputation to uphold… or demolish, depending on your perspective.

"A necessary evil!" Damien’s voice tight with a repressed emotion that went beyond righteous anger. Despair glinted in his eyes for a brief moment. "Return her to me!"

Eydis's brow furrowed in confusion. "Her?" she drawled. "The Saintess, you say? How is it I'm supposed to return someone I barely remember capturing? Where is this paragon of virtue, anyway?"

"Quit playing games!" Damien fumed, lunging forward. "You know exactly what you've done! You've brought forth a darkness this world has never seen, snuffed out the purest light in the land!" The holy symbol on his breastplate flared with intense white light as he reached her.

Eydis sidestepped Damien’s attack with ease. Inky tendrils of darkness erupted from her fingertips, hissing as they lunged towards him. Damien’s blade glowed with radiant light as he met the shadows head-on, pushing them back.

“Spare me the religious ramblings,” Eydis called over the din, snapping her fingers to send a serpent of dark magic whipping towards his face. “Snuffed out the purest light? Please. Darkness isn’t just an absence of light; it’s like silence—not the absence of sound, but a frequency outside human hearing.”

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The knight barely dodged, the magic leaving a sizzling scorch mark on his cheek.

She smirked. "Most humans, anyway."

“Nonsense!" Damien’s voice cracked as he launched another round of slashes. Was it just righteous anger, or was there something more? Something personal?

A blinding flash of light erupted as Damien's sacred weapon met Eydis's shadowy tendrils. Light warred with darkness, the resulting shockwave shattered the floor, revealing an inky abyss.

Eydis’s gaze sharpened as the swirling vortex grew, primordial whispers seeping from its heart. It surged upward, pulling her and Damien into its dark embrace. His scream vanished into nothingness.

Silence. Absolute, deafening silence.

New? This was beyond new.

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A haunting voice, heavy with grief, echoed on the edge of Eydis’s mind. The voice… it sounded vaguely familiar…

'There are more to you than this, Eydis! Remember your purpose!’

She almost scoffed. Remember? Her memory was a fortress, every victory, every betrayal engraved in its foundation. There was nothing she could forget.

Purpose? Curiosity, of course. Tales whispered by firelight spoke of vibrant, sunlit meadows and glaciers that scraped the sky—beyond the perpetually grey hues of Mythshollow, her kingdom. Driven by this thirst, she waged a relentless campaign of conquest. Each victory expanded her empire, each fallen kingdom adding another shard to her obsidian crown.

Only one enigma remained: the Saintess. Everyone knew the stories - a radiant warrior of light, the supposed bane of her existence. But for Eydis, the Saintess was just a void.

A blank space.

Did she… forget something important? Someone important?

Disoriented and nauseous, she descended deeper into the abyss. Time seemed to lose all meaning, replaced by endless darkness.

Was this her punishment? Was she condemned to an eternal free fall into oblivion?

Then, a violent jerk wrenched Eydis from the void. Golden light blazed through her eyelids, forcing them shut. She braced herself for the inferno that surely awaited her.

Instead, the first thing that stung her nose wasn't brimstone, but the curiously mundane scent of... cleaning products?

Dripping down her face?!

The second was the voice, shrill and grating against the her throbbing head. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before keeping your homework all to yourself, you four-eyed freak!”

Eydis, for once, agreed. Four eyes did seem a tad excessive. But was this tirade meant for her?

Blearily blinking, she found the world a blurry watercolour mess. Her hand instinctively flew to her neck. Still a head, good. Not yet a disembodied spirit condemned to an eternity of listening to... this.

The high-pitched whine continued. Eydis had had enough.

“Did you know…” she rasped, her voice a touch higher than usual. "That chronic nastiness can take a toll on you? Both inside and out?”

She squinted at the blurry shapes hovering above her, a mischievous glint sparking in her (hopefully) soon-to-be-focused eyes. "Something to consider, given the state of your complexion.”

The bully sputtered, a strangled sound that resembled a particularly disgruntled goose. Eydis preferred a good face reading to deciphering human sound effects. This lack of sight was proving to be a royal pain.

A sharp kick to Eydis’s ribs jolted her back to the unwelcome reality. The bully loomed above her, cackling like a particularly unhinged hyena on helium. Ah, yes, she was most definitely alive. Unfortunately, shockingly vulnerable.

“Wonderful,” she muttered. “Ow.”

The bully's face, as far as Eydis could tell, contorted in confusion. "Wha- what are you even talking about?" she shrieked. "Why do you talk back?"

Just as Eydis was about to speak, another voice cut in, reeking of entitlement with its nasal tone. “Ugh, Tiffany, let’s not bother with the nerd.”

"Is a little verbal sparring out of style these days? A shame, that was one of my finer skills." Eydis murmured under her breath, "amongst others." Her hand brushed against something cold and smooth. A pair of… spectacles? Four-eyed? Ah.

Fascinating.

Eydis snatched the spectacles and slapped them on her face. The world around her sharpened into a startling clarity. The ashen grey sky of Mythshollow vanished, replaced by a vibrant blue expanse.

A gaggle of teenagers, their faces a variety of expressions, stood before her, wearing matching uniforms — green blazers and mid-thigh tartan skirts.

Her own body, she realised with a jolt, was encased in one of the itchy blazers, paired with a skirt that fell a few inches too short for her tastes. A tentative touch confirmed her worst fear — her hair, usually cascading down her back in dark, lustrous waves, was now a tangled brown mess in a ponytail.

Nothing about this felt right—not this world, not this body.

She attempted to rise, her limbs protesting. Her hand brushed against something coarse - grass? This wasn't the cold, polished stone of her palace floor. Where was Damien? Where was the inevitable battle?

A harsh voice cut through her confusion. "Where do you think you're going, freak?" the blonde spat.

"Does this ‘freak’ have a name?" Eydis turned, her eyes narrowed.

Tiffany sputtered, then gritted her teeth. "What game are you playing, Eydis?"

A slow, knowing smile spread across Eydis's face, revealing her canine teeth. "Eydis, huh?" she purred. "Things have just gotten far more interesting."

On cue, a scream pierced through their conversation, she glanced at another group of teenagers, following their eyesight, her eyes widened in surprise.

The sky… ripped open.

It wasn't a clean tear, but a jagged gash, like someone had clawed their way through reality itself. A monstrous eye, the size of a mountain, bulged through the opening. Its pink pupil pulsed with an unnatural light that cast the world in a grotesque, distorted hue. An unsettling intelligence gleamed within it, scrutinising, dissecting, analysing.

Judging by the wide-eyed terror on the faces around her, this wasn't normal. Not for them, at least. Instinct took over. Eydis raised her hand, the familiar tingle of magic gathering at her fingertips. But... nothing. No tendrils of darkness responded. Just…

Emptiness.

A bead of sweat traced a traitorous path down her temple. Fear coiled in her gut. This wasn't right. They had taken everything from her - her throne, her power, her world, even her body. Stripped of magic, the only thing certain was uncertainty. She stood frozen. She had no idea where to go, what to do.

But then came a voice—one she recognised most intimately: her own. She straightened, an instinct older than reason igniting within her. Survival.

Eydis, Queen of Shadows, wouldn't go down without a fight.