"My lord, a girl has been born!"
The maid's voice split the tense silence like sunlight piercing a storm.
King Neptune, ruler of the Kingdom of the Novels, stopped pacing outside the Queen's chamber. The knot in his chest loosened.
"Thank you," he breathed, relief warming his voice. "May I see her?"
The maid nodded. Neptune didn't wait another heartbeat. He entered the chamber, where the air was warm with candlelight and the faint scent of lavender.
Queen Eva sat against white pillows, her hair unbound, framing her face in dark waves. Exhaustion softened her features, but her eyes shimmered with joy. In her arms, wrapped in a blanket, lay the smallest, quietest bundle.
"May I, my queen?" Neptune asked, his voice trembling.
Eva nodded. With reverent hands, he took the child, holding her as though she were the most fragile treasure in all creation. He leaned close, whispered into the newborn's ear:
"Noelle."
The name seemed to settle over the room like a blessing.
Their fingers intertwined. For a moment, King and Queen simply gazed at the child, as though looking upon her could promise a brighter future.
Three Months Earlier
The hut rattled under the weight of the storm. Wind howled through the trees, carrying rain and the distant growl of thunder.
Eva sat on the bed, her hands trembling over her rounded belly. "Why?" she whispered, voice breaking. "Why now?"
Garrick knelt before her, catching her hands and pressing one palm to her cheek. "Don't cry, my lady. The Varkari family has always been bound to the King of the Kingdom of Heart. It is our duty—our debt—from generations past. The king calls, and I must answer."
His voice cracked. "If you cry, Eva… I might not be able to leave. But I promise—I will return. Until then… hold your sorrow."
They held each other and wept over the child yet unborn.
For days after he left, Eva waited like a starving beggar waits for bread. Each night her longing grew sharper. One night, unable to bear the ache, she slipped from Neptune's bed, cloaked herself, and tried to escape the palace walls. But the guards saw all. She returned without a word, swallowing her grief.
Weeks passed. Hope withered. She learned to smile again—only for the sake of her unborn child.
When Noelle was born, joy bloomed in her heart once more. But before that joy could take root, a knock sounded at the chamber door.
"My lord," a guard said to Neptune, "someone requests an audience."
The king waved him away. "Tell him I cannot meet anyone now."
The guard hesitated. "My lord… he says it is urgent." His eyes flicked to Queen Eva. "He claims to know something about the queen—something you must hear."
Eva froze, her hands stiffening over Noelle's blanket.
Neptune's gaze lingered on her, long and searching. "Is there anything you wish to tell me, Eva?"
"I… no, my lord."
"Tell him to wait in my chambers," Neptune said at last.
That night, the truth came to him like a blade to the heart—Eva's relationship with Garrick, and that Noelle was Garrick's daughter, not his own. From that day forward, Neptune never again looked upon Eva or the child.
Consumed by betrayal, he sought Garrick across the kingdom. But he did not know Garrick's full name—Varkari—and the search was fruitless. From Eva's description, he had a portrait drawn, sending guards to every home.
One day, in a forest hut, they found a warrior who matched the drawing. He was seized and dragged before the king. But he was not Garrick.
The man's hair was green, his features striking—eyes bright as gemstones, skin pale as moonlight.
"What's your name, boy?" the king asked.
"Jeffrey Hawkins."
"Hawkins?" Neptune's brow lifted. "I once fought a warrior by that name."
"So what?" Jeffrey spat. "Release me. I have a family—I must see my daughter. She's six years old."
"Your daughter?" The king laughed. "Do you even know if she's yours? Oh, yes… you said you're a Hawkins. That means you're an Umbren—bound to Nythera, Goddess of Death. You people dwell in the jungle… perhaps while you were gone, someone else shared your wife's bed."
"Stop." Jeffrey's voice shook with fury. "I will kill you if I escape… even in death, I will return, by Nythera's name, to destroy you and your family."
The king answered with fire. A torch and wine turned the air to smoke, the man's curses echoing through the trees as his body burned.
Neptune stood over the flames, smiling with the cold satisfaction of a man who had found a new outlet for his rage. That night, he killed again—another innocent, in the same forest, before the same blackened remains.
It became a ritual.
Soon, he divided the kingdom—nobles in the south, his "trusted ones." Innocents in the north, where the killings continued each night, unseen, unspoken, unending.