SERAPHINE SHADEWALKER
Seraphine stood at the edge of the jungle, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon as the first rays of dawn began to creep over the wreckage. The storm had passed, but its aftermath was still heavy in the air, a thick tension clinging to the shores of Druumari. Her kingdom had been breached, her land defiled by the remnants of the Vyrdantian foreign fleet that had dared to trespass on her waters. The destruction she saw before her wasn't just a clash of steel or the whims of nature; it was an intrusion. A challenge. And she would meet it head-on.
Her gown made of deep purple and midnight black fluid fabrics, fluttered gently in the breeze, her sculpted moonstone and silver corset a testament in its own right shining under the light, each step deliberate and measured as she made her way toward the shattered remnants of Kaelen's fleet. Shadows moved in subtle ways around her, as if responding to her will, bending and swirling at her feet, a silent reflection of the power she wielded. Her expression was unreadable, her pale face a mask of serene detachment as her eyes flicked over the wreckage, taking in the destruction with a quiet reverence.
She had already sensed the presence of survivors—the ripple of their energy caught on the spiritual currents she was so attuned to. Her connection to the spiritual world was undeniable, and even in the wreckage of the storm, it was clear that something larger, something more sinister had guided it. Druumari's ancient spirits were restless, and so was she. But there was no room for hesitation. There was no time for fear.
As she approached the scattered remnants of the Vyrdantian's fleet, the heavy scent of saltwater and splintered wood filled her senses, mixing with the deeper, more troubling smell of blood and the remnants of death. She felt no sympathy for the fallen men. This was part of the war between Druumari and Vyrdantia, sparked by King Thalren Stormrider, after all. They had come to conquer, to invade, and now they had to face the consequences of their actions. Seraphine's heart remained as cold as the storm that had shattered their ships. She wasn't here to save them.
But she was here to make an example.
The survivors, a handful of men, were scattered in a cave near a jungle that's located between the bay of Velyndor, the capital, tending to the wounded and searching for any scrap of hope they could cling to. They didn't see her approach, too absorbed in their own grief and fear. But she had no need to announce her presence. She was the storm's wake. She was the moonlight, the shadow, and the curse that they could not escape.
Her eyes fell on him then.
Kaelen Stormrider, the Crown Prince of Vyrdantia. The once-proud leader of the fleet that had tried to crush her kingdom. He was sitting with his back against a stone, his posture heavy with the weight of loss, but even now, there was something unmistakable about him—a stubbornness in his sharp jaw, a fire in his mismatched gaze, even as he sat broken, like the rest of his fleet.
Seraphine's eyes narrowed slightly, her lips curling ever so slightly in recognition. She had heard of him, of course. Kaelen Stormrider was a name whispered on the winds of the continent, a man who was as untamable as the storms that carried him across the seas. The arrogance of youth, wrapped in the allure of power. And now, here he was, stranded and helpless, a mere shadow of the leader he once was.
There was no satisfaction in this, only the cold truth that he was a threat to her kingdom, to her people. And threats had to be eradicated. Or in his case, imprisoned. The Crowned Prince of Vyrdantia at the mercy of the Queen of Druumari, in the middle of a continental war between the two kingdoms.
They shouldn't have sent their heir to her. But they did, just as she imagined they would. Arrogant fools.
She stepped forward, the shadows at her feet elongating, as if pulling her closer to him. Her presence seemed to bend the air itself. Time slowed, and the men around Kaelen fell silent, their gazes shifting from the wreckage to the woman who now loomed over them. Seraphine didn't wait for them to speak. She didn't need their words to feel the weight of their fear.
Kaelen's eyes flicked up to meet hers, and for a moment, his storm-gray and lightning-gold gaze locked with her eerie violet blue-ish silver-freckled eyes. The tension crackled between them, as if the very air knew the clash that was about to unfold.
"Well, well," Kaelen's voice cut through the stillness, a raspy edge to it, but the arrogance and defiance were still there. "I take it you're the one in charge here, little one?"
Seraphine tilted her head slightly, regarding him with an unreadable expression. "I am the Queen of Druumari, Seraphine Shadewalker, First of My Name," she said quietly, her voice like a cool breeze—calm, controlled, but filled with an undeniable authority. "And you are trespassing on my shores, Crowned Prince of Vyrdantia, Kaelen Stormrider, First of Your Name. Your fleet is gone, and with it, your hope."
Kaelen stood slowly, his movements sharp, like a predator who had been momentarily cornered but was preparing to lash out, towering over her, who doesn't even reach the height of his broad wide shoulders. "I didn't come here to be judged by you, little one," he snapped, his storm-gray and lightning-gold eyes flashing with defiance as he looked down to meet her cold gaze head-on. "I came for power, for trade routes, and your kingdom will bend to my will. My father will make sure of it. You're not the only one with a kingdom to protect."
Seraphine studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. She didn't respond immediately, allowing the silence to settle like a weight on both of them. The storm had passed, but its shadow still lingered, both in the wreckage and in the air between them.
"You think your father, King Thalren Stormrider, Third of His Name, will save you?" she asked quietly, her tone almost mocking. "Him? Who isn't the type to go to the battlefield to fight the war he started? What authority do you think that despicable man could possibly have in my land? You do remember my Kingdom is at war with yours, no? Your fleet is shattered. Your men are broken. And you are nothing more than a stranded, powerless prince in a foreign land, ruled by someone who couldn't care less if you live or die, if you're a peasant or a King yourself."
Kaelen took a step forward, his body tense, his hands curling into fists. "You don't know who you're dealing with. I won't be cowered by you, or your magic. I'll fight you."
The words barely left his mouth before the air around them shifted, the shadows growing deeper, darker, as if the very world was bending to Seraphine's will. The ground beneath their feet seemed to tremble, just slightly, as if the earth itself was responding to her command.
Before Kaelen could move, before he could even react, Seraphine raised her hand with a single, fluid motion. Instantly, a surge of dark energy erupted from her palm, winding around him like chains made of pure shadow. Kaelen's eyes widened, his muscles locking in place as the enchanted bindings constricted around his wrists and ankles, rendering him immobile.
"You will learn respect, Prince Kaelen," Seraphine said, her voice low and chilling as she approached him, her eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "You think you're untouchable, but you are nothing. You will kneel at my feet, or you will perish. The choice is yours. I'm fine with either of them."
Kaelen struggled, his defiant roar filling the air, but the chains held fast, unyielding. His strength, his magic, his power—they were nothing against her control. He could feel the weight of the binding around his limbs, as if it were a part of him, holding him in place, every attempt to break free only tightening the hold.
Seraphine stopped in front of him, her face inches from his chest that was half bare under the half-opened white shirt, face tilted up to meet his gaze, her breath cool against his skin. Her presence was overwhelming, like the storm itself had taken form in her body, and there was nothing he could do to resist it.
"You are my prisoner now, Vyrdantian," Seraphine said softly, her lips curving into a small, cruel smile. "And I will decide what happens to you. Not your daddy, not your mommy, not your politically-inclined baby brother. Me. For nobody influences my decisions as Queen of my land. Definitely not an enemy. That's what you are, little Prince. An enemy in a hostile land, with no right to request anything, until you kneel before me and beg for it."
She gripped his chin, her sharp black polished nails digging softly, tilting it down and making him look at her. "But we both know that day won't come, don't we, little Prince?" She whispered.
"You bitch," he spat hatefully.
"Bold of you to call me that, when you're the one who invaded my land, little Prince. And I may be a bitch in your eyes, but at least I am Queen, I have real power over my life and my people. What are you now?" Her voice was colder than before. "My little prisoner."
Kaelen's gaze burned with fury, but even he knew there was nothing he could do. He had been humbled, captured, his pride shattered like the remains of his fleet.
And in that moment, the power dynamics between them shifted irrevocably. Seraphine was no longer the queen of an unknown land. She was the one in control.