The room is still, silent, saved by the soft creak of the heavy wooden door as I swing it open. I stand in the threshold, frozen by the sight before me. She lies still, as if in a gentle sleep, though her breath falters and her heart has ceased its rhythm, her once vibrant form crumbles into dust. Isabella, my beloved queen, who brought love to this kingdom, whose heart beats for its people, she lies motionless, as what might awaits the fate of her kingdom.

The sheets that surround her are pristine, yet her lips are stained crimson, a dark thread of blood weaving across her serene form. It is as if death has woven itself into the very fabric of this room, weaving itself in the dark tapestry of her life.

But even in death, her beauty remains elegant—a cascade of golden hair, full of warmth and grace that falls in delicate waves around her face, untouched by the chaos that will soon engulf her kingdom. Her blue serene eyes that once held the wisdom of the world. She is motionless in the bed where secrets were spun and promises betrayed. My heart breaks as I reach for her, my trembling hands brushing against her cold, radiant skin.

I take a tentative step forward, my heart caught in my throat. The air is thick, suffocating. My fingers tremble as they hover above her cold, porcelain skin, afraid to touch the lifeless body of the woman I had vowed to protect. The warmth is gone. Her face, once a beacon of wisdom and love, is now frozen in eternal slumber. My breath catches as I dare to brush my fingers against her hand, but it is too late. She is gone.

The red dahlias that dominate the space of her chamber, is the silent witness to the tragedy that cannot be undone. The flower that mirrors the Queen’s strength, her wisdom, and her perseverance, has withered to black as she had fallen. Fallen deep to the abyss where she will linger forever.

As my memories goes drifting, it draws me back to the day that I made promise, a promise to her which she enforced me to obliged. “Be the protector of our Kingdom, my dear Eldric. Should I lie breathless, chaos will engulf our kingdom deep in flames.” Her words forever etched deep in my heart.

Alas, I am merely a wizard, not a knight. I’m a master of magic, yet forlorn at death’s demands. My hands trembles as I touch her. Her skin felt cold, yet she still shines brightly. My heart tightens as my love had left before me. I close her eyes, to be the final farewell for the person who once loved this kingdom very dearly.

In the silence, heavy footsteps echo through the halls. I freeze, my heart leaping in my chest, and turn to see the king enter. Aldrin. The man who had once been a noble knight, his soul as corrupted as the blood now staining his hands. Draped in royal finery, his crown aglow with the pale light of dusk, but his presence darker than night, as his eyes filled darkness that chills me to the bone.

He strides into the room with an air of authority, but the floor beneath him seems to tremble, as though even the castle itself recoils from his presence. He approaches the bed with an unsettling calmness. His gaze lingers on her still form, and his lips curl into a smile that chills my blood.

“A fitting end for our beloved queen,” he sneers, his voice a venomous mockery.

“And you, Eldric, with all your ‘All-Powerful’ magic and wisdom, stand here powerless. She has played her part, and now the kingdom is mine.” His words cut deep, his arrogance insufferable.

His steps grow closer, heavier than the last

“A pity, isn’t it? To see her fallen by fate’s cruel hand.” His voice cold

“Spare me your false grief, Aldrin,” I growl, rage surging within me. “As if it’s a fate’s cruel hand, you may have worn the crown, but your hands wore her blood.”

He narrows his gaze, his smirk unfaltering, he is amused. “Careful, wizard,” he warns, his voice cold and calculated yet cynical. “Accusations carry little weight when spoken by a man who stands alone. Have you been clouding your judgement? What can you do with your magic? It’s already all to late Eldric. Appalling.”

Truth is what he said, yet my heart burns with stilled anger. “It is not magic that reveals truth, but conscience.”

He chuckles as he grows closer. Each of his step is calm and his face remains smiling, sinisterly. “Truth is mine to shape, you foul wizard.” He smirks “As I’m the King, I decide those whose weakness seals their fate.” He approaches her withered body; he smiles wide as he touches the remnants of her golden hair.

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“To be blind and naïve. She wasted her throne on idealism and mercy, refusing to see daggers that has been placed behind her back. Why even she spared me, a disgraced noble. I’ll never understand. Her kindness was her undoing, as I knew it would be. A flower so beautiful, yet so fragile must always wither.” He laughs, his laugher filled the void in the room. Echoes of death, the room stayed calm, yet I am still.

“Now! Her reign falls, as I will conquer the realms,” He bellows. “She is a false leader of a great kingdom, the kingdom that prospers with riches. With me as the king, every kingdom will bow to us, Radovians!”

The madness of Aldrin continues, as he grows closer towards me, spitting the minds that he had kept for a long while. I imagine that he has been waiting for this exact moment to cry out his desires.

“All rich become richer, and the poor be poorer. The weak shall wither to dust, and the proud will stay grand.”

I am left frozen, still as an ice as I watch his grandeur speech. Aldrin’s voices ringing in my ears. My fury simmers as he finally finished his speech.

He gestures towards the guards, and they advance, towards us. “Seize this man, bring him to the throne room, his judgement will await.” He thundered to the guards.

The guards seize me, their hands firm and unyielding, but their eyes betray their uncertainty. They know, deep down, that they are complicit in something far darker than they could imagine.

They drag me from the chamber where Isabella breathed her last, through halls heavy with sorrow. Courtiers weep, their cries a haunting melody of loss. The throne room looms ahead, its grand pillars rising like monuments to despair.

Finally, we reach the grand hall, a vast and imposing place, its walls heavy with the weight of history, its pillars towering above like silent sentinels. The grandiosity of the room contrasts sharply with the sense of betrayal and tragedy that now fills it. I am thrust into the throne room, a chamber once filled with the rituals of royalty but now tainted by deceit and lies.

The murmurs of the ministers’ echo in the air, their faces somber, their words sharp with suspicion, while the courtiers watch with keen eyes, their grief palpable. They mourn the loss of their queen, but beneath their sorrow is a shared bitterness.

The air is thick with cries of grief, sorrow, and bitter resentment, all woven together in a single, unified lament for the woman who had been the kingdom’s heart. The seat where she once sat now stands empty, a hollow space that seems to echo the void she has left behind. The laughter and joy that once filled this room have been swallowed by the tragedy that now lingers in every corner.

Aldrin who was in her chamber before, has waited for my presence in his throne. Smiling as he beckons for my audience.

“Bring him forth!” Aldrin commands, his voice cold and final as I am pushed forward, their gazes sharp and filled with questions. Eyes fixed on me, the crowd eagerly awaits an explanation, but all I can do is meet their stares with silent defiance.

Among them, unnoticed by most, stands a young boy—the crown prince, Caelum. His sapphire eyes lock onto mine, filled with confusion, his golden hair glowing softly in the dim light. He looks so much like his mother, yet the innocence in his eyes shows he does not understand what has happened. He stands amidst the chaos, helpless as the world around him crumbles.

The king’s voice cuts through the commotion. “Our dearest queen has died, felled by a poison’s touch,” he proclaims, his voice dripping with feigned sorrow, though I know the joy he feels at her death is far greater. “And what wizard in our midst is capable of conjuring such deadly potions?”

Aldrin’s Chancellor, Rothe, steps forward, his expression stoic and unreadable. The man is as loyal to the king as a rat to its master. “It is true, Eldric, that only you possess the skill to create such a deadly poison,” Rothe declares, his voice tight with suspicion. “We must know—did you betray our queen?”

My heart burns with fury, and I stare at Aldrin, my voice low but filled with conviction. “The one who dares betray her is standing before you,” I reply, my gaze fixed on the king. The room falls silent for a moment, but suspicion clings to the air like a thick fog.

Aldrin laughs darkly, spitting out his words with malice. “A mere accusation from a broken wizard. Let that be the last word you utter, Eldric,” he sneers, and in that instant, his decision is made. “Exile him! Let him rot outside of our kingdom.” The command echoes through the hall, and though I am dragged from the palace, a profound silence fills the space where the queen once stood.

The shock of it all lingers in the air—how could someone who had served the queen, who had loved her, be accused of killing her? The promise I made to her, to protect her son and her legacy, seems so distant now, a failure that I cannot undo. As they drag me to the exit, my gaze finds Caelum again, standing amidst the crowd, his eyes still fixed on me. His sapphire eyes, wide with confusion and fear, meet mine. He stands alone, a child surrounded by chaos. His mother’s death hangs heavy in the air, a silent question that neither of us can voice. The weight of his silent plea burdens my soul.

I want to speak to him, to reassure him that he is not alone, but the guards push me forward. My voice is silenced by the weight of my exile. My gaze holds his for a moment longer, pleading silently for him to stay safe.

As I am cast out into the wilderness, the door slams shut behind me, leaving me with nothing but the bitter winds of betrayal. And as the cold night air bites at my skin, I know this: my path is set. The queen is gone, and her son must rise. It is his turn to carry the kingdom, and it is my turn to guide him through the darkness that awaits.

“Be safe, child,” I whisper silently, though he cannot hear. I make a vow, that I will protect him.