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The door to their chambers closed with a soft click behind her. Hazel leaned against the heavy wood for a moment, the lingering chill from the throne room still crawling along her spine. Her pulse was finally slowing, but her mind refused rest.
She moved to the small desk tucked into the corner of the room and retrieved her journal, the leather cover worn but comforting under her fingertips. Sitting, she flipped it open, letting the blank page invite her thoughts. She needed clarity. She needed to understand how things had gone so wrong.
Her pen hovered, then began to move almost on its own, words pouring out as her mind replayed the events of the past few days.
It started in Nxymoor, she wrote, her script steady but precise. The outskirts. Scarce rations, harsh working conditions, whispers that Hades doesn't care for the miners. The discontent simmered there for months.
She paused, dipping her pen into the inkwell, recalling the first reports she had read aloud to Hades. The images of exhausted miners, emaciated and bruised from their labor, haunted her still. It was a problem that had been easy to predict if one simply observed the conditions.
Then it became bigger. Kravos. The name itself made her frown. He was in charge of operations. He… slayed a young demon miner. And the miners retaliated, threatening to cut off the Citadel's supply chain. They didn't act out of malice—they acted because they felt abused.
Hazel shook her head. And yet… there had been a solution. A strategy that would have worked perfectly. Her pen moved faster now, almost as if writing too slowly would allow the memory to slip away.
Flashback… she scribbled in the margin, leaning back in her chair as the scene replayed in her mind.
"Give them a voice," she had said aloud. "Choose one or two respected leaders from Nxymoor to act as regional representatives. Let them bring their grievances to court monthly. In return, they agree to resume exports under direct oversight. You reduce revolt without bloodshed."
Her mind drifted, recalling Hades' reply, calm and unwavering as always:
"Implement her proposal. Send word to Nxymoor. Two envoys will be accepted within the week. Any who threaten this arrangement will face me personally."
Hazel exhaled sharply. It had been so simple. So logical. So fair. And yet… here they were. Another rebellion, more chaos, and angry rogues at the northern plains. Something had gone wrong.
What could've gone wrong? she wrote, her brows furrowed. Her eyes scanned the lines she had written, searching for clues in the events themselves. "There must have been someone present who sabotaged my idea," she murmured, her voice low.
She leaned forward, resting her forehead on her palm as she let her mind wander through the possibilities.
Could it have been one of the strategists in the throne room? Perhaps someone who resented a human queen giving orders, someone who still believed that the Citadel was theirs to command? She shook her head. No, they had followed Hades' direct commands—there was no chance they would outright defy him, not openly.
Could it have been one of the generals sent to oversee the envoys? Her fingers drummed lightly against the desk. That was more likely. A general with a temper, someone who believed that strict control was the only language the miners understood… someone who would twist her plan into a demonstration of punishment rather than diplomacy.
Hazel's thoughts sharpened. Yes… the more I think, the more it makes sense. Someone who thrives on control, on fear, not negotiation. Someone eager to demonstrate strength by pain…
Her eyes narrowed as she scrolled back through the list of names Hades had given her. One figure came forward, clearer than the rest: Gavriel.
Gavriel. She wrote the name slowly, savoring the realization. Hades' elite man. General of the Citadel. Loyal… perhaps too loyal. Eager to prove himself. Obsessed with maintaining order by any means necessary.
She could almost see him now—his hands tightening around a whip, his expression dark and satisfied as he cracked it against a miner's back, commanding the workers to bend under fear rather than reason. Hazel's stomach twisted at the memory she didn't witness firsthand but had heard whispered in reports. He would have taken my strategy, perverted it into a show of dominance, and ensured that the miners feared compliance rather than cooperation.
Hazel's pen flew across the page, sketching out the chain of events in her mind.
The envoys arrived. The promise of dialogue existed on paper, but Gavriel… he made sure it never reached the miners' ears properly. He reinforced the harsh labor, he punished small offenses with brutality, and he framed the rebellion as an act of disobedience rather than desperation. That explains the northern plains incident. That explains the rogues' arrogance—they weren't just misbehaving; they were incited.
She paused, letting the words sink in. Her heart thudded in her chest. Gavriel… trusted by Hades, powerful, feared. If she was wrong about him, she would be walking into a nest of vipers. But if she was right, he was the puppet master behind this chaos.
Hazel leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if it could provide the answers she needed. Her mind traced over every conversation, every observation of his behavior. The eager way he watches Hades, always waiting for an order. The quickness with which he responds to threats. The satisfaction in enforcing control rather than negotiating… yes. Gavriel did this. He turned my plan into something else entirely.
Her fingers tightened around her pen, and she scribbled a final line on the page:
Gavriel. The problem. I need to bring this to Hades—but carefully. He trusts Gavriel implicitly. I cannot be wrong.
For a long moment, she sat there in silence, the journal open before her, the candle flickering softly. She felt the weight of what she had uncovered pressing on her, heavy but necessary.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she acknowledged the fear gnawing at her—Gavriel was powerful, Hades' right hand, and she was just… her. But Hazel also knew that fear alone would not solve this puzzle. Observation, reason, and courage would. And she had all three.
With a deep breath, she closed the journal, the leather cover snapping softly shut. Her thoughts had clarity now. She had a path, a plan forming. And she would see it through.
She rose, smoothing her dress, and let herself imagine the next step: approaching Hades, explaining what she knew, and somehow ensuring that Gavriel's manipulation would not undo the stability of the Citadel—or the trust between them.
Hazel's hand lingered on the journal one last time before she placed it back in the drawer. Determination burned through her. She wouldn't let her ideas fail. She wouldn't let the people suffer because someone wanted to prove his power. And most importantly… she wouldn't let the Citadel fall into chaos—not while she still had a voice, a mind, and the king's ear.