The council chamber buzzed with quiet tension.
Long banners of dark blue and silver hung from the vaulted ceiling. Sunlight filtered in through tall, stained glass windows depicting scenes of old kings, ancient wars, and the divine light of Oraviel—the god the kingdom had worshipped for generations.
Queen Seraphina sat on her throne at the far end of the room, poised, regal, her face unreadable. Her crown caught the light. Her hands rested calmly on the carved arms of her seat, though her fingers ached from holding herself so still.
The room was full—nobles, advisors, guards, and scribes. They were all talking in hushed voices, throwing uncertain glances toward her and each other.
Something was brewing in the kingdom. And everyone felt it.
"Your Majesty," Lord Varrick began, stepping forward. He was tall and thin, with graying hair and a voice that always sounded like it carried a warning. "The towns beyond the southern hills report dry wells. Livestock dead without cause. Fields blackened overnight."
Whispers followed his words.
Seraphina nodded slightly. "We've received similar reports from the western borders," she said. Her voice was calm, practiced. "It is no longer just one region. The land itself is changing."
Another noble spoke up, frustration clear in her tone. "What we need are answers. The people are afraid. Some believe this is divine punishment."
Seraphina's lips tightened.
She wanted to tell them what she had seen—the nightmares, the man and girl of light, the marks on her legs that still hadn't faded. But how could she?
They would call her cursed. Mad. Weak.
Instead, she lifted her chin. "We will investigate every report. The High Priestess will be consulted. No decision will be made without full knowledge."
Before anyone could respond, a sudden noise echoed through the hallway beyond.
Heavy footsteps. A door flung open.
A man burst into the room, breathless and wild-eyed. His tunic was torn, and his face was pale with panic.
"My Queen!" he gasped, falling to his knees.
Guards moved instantly, but Seraphina raised a hand. "Let him speak."
The man clutched his chest, shaking. "The plague… it's here."
A heavy silence fell across the chamber.
"What plague?" someone asked. "Speak clearly, man."
"I came from Dareth's Hollow," he said, voice cracking. "Three days ago, people started falling ill. Skin turning black. Bleeding from their eyes, their mouths. It spread faster than fire. Children. Elders. Entire families. No one's safe."
Seraphina stood, and the entire room went quiet.
"Did you see this yourself?" she asked, her voice firm.
He nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. I—I watched my brother die in his sleep. I ran. I ran all night to bring the message."
A storm of voices exploded at once.
"Impossible!""This is madness!""We must close the roads!""It's divine wrath!"
Seraphina held up both hands. "Silence!"
The room obeyed.
Her heart was pounding. A plague. A real one. Not just rumors. Not just fear.
"Captain," she said, turning to the guard commander. "Send word to the towns nearby. No one enters or leaves without royal clearance. Lock the gates. Post guards. No panic."
The captain bowed and hurried out.
She turned to the council. "Everyone else, remain calm. You are to stay in the palace until we understand what we're facing."
"What if it's already inside the city?" Lord Varrick asked quietly.
No one answered.
Seraphina sat slowly, her thoughts spinning.
The dream. The marks. The girl of light. The man's outstretched hand.
"Come to me, and I will give you rest."
Was it a warning?
Or a temptation?
Her people were dying. Her kingdom was falling apart. And something unseen was hunting her, inside and out.
She pressed a hand to her leg beneath her gown. The marks had started to itch again.
The council chamber began to buzz once more, but their voices seemed far away. She stared out the tall window behind the throne, looking toward the horizon where the temple stood in the far hills.
"I can't wait any longer," she thought.
She stood once more.
"This meeting is over," she said clearly. "I will be consulting with the High Priestess. No one is to leave the palace without my command."
"But—Your Majesty—" someone tried to speak.
"I said it is over," she repeated. There was steel in her voice now.
The nobles began to shuffle out. Some muttered. Some bowed. A few cast suspicious glances her way.
She could feel it. Their fear. Their doubt.
And behind it, something darker.
Later that day, alone in her chambers, Seraphina stood at her window and looked at the sky. A dark cloud had started forming far to the east, though no storm was forecast. The air was still. Too still.
She touched the windowsill with her fingertips.
What if this was just the beginning?
She remembered the angelic man's smile. The way he had said those words.
"Come to me, and I will give you rest."
And yet… it wasn't him she wanted to follow.
The girl. The silent girl with the outstretched hand. She hadn't spoken, but Seraphina felt like she had said everything.
There was power in silence. And peace in it.
She needed answers. Not from the council. Not from the generals. Not from the nobles who whispered behind her back.
She needed to speak to the High Priestess. She needed to know what Oraviel wanted. If Oraviel was still listening at all.
Because if he wasn't…
They were all doomed.