Hellflower and the Shadowed Throne
The sky of Raventhorn was draped in a deep crimson that morning. Like a wound yet to heal, it gaped above the palace, casting blood-like light over the towering spires. Inside the grand hall, the court officials gathered in a silence that choked the air. Seraphine sat upon her obsidian throne, dressed in a long black gown embroidered with silver threads and patterns of thorns and roots.
Her voice rang out—calm, but cutting.
"For years, you bowed to my husband. Now that he is gone... do any of you believe this palace can be yours?"
No one dared to speak.
Old and young faces alike had turned pale. Even the guards' footsteps, echoing slowly at the far end of the hall, sounded like the tolling of a death bell.
"I've heard rumors. That a High Priest has held a secret meeting. That certain nobles have sworn an oath to topple the throne."
Seraphine rose. Her gaze was sharp, like unspoken sorcery.
"If you truly swore your oaths in shadows... then I will swear mine before the world. I, Seraphine Kaelra Raventhorn—daughter of the First Blood, wife of the late king, mother to the rightful heir, and now—sole ruler of Raventhorn—declare this: whoever dares to touch my throne... I will erase them down to the roots of their bloodline."
The nobles trembled. Some lowered their heads. Others watched in silence. But among them, Lord Vaenric allowed himself a slight smirk. His eyes whispered: This isn't over.
---
That afternoon, Kaelion entered the empress dowager's pavilion—a place he once avoided like a grave. But now, his steps held no hesitation. In his left hand, he carried an old tome he had found in a hidden library. Its contents? The history of Raventhorn's ancestors marrying beings of darkness.
Behind curtains of shadowy silk, Seraphine was having her hair brushed by her personal maid. But the moment Kaelion entered, the servant stepped back. Lately, many preferred silence and distance over meeting the Queen's gaze.
"May I ask you something?" Kaelion said, seating himself on a velvet sofa the color of midnight.
"Ask, as long as it's not a question that will cost you your head." Seraphine smiled faintly, though a subtle warmth flickered in her eyes.
"Father… before he died. Did he ever truly know who you were? I mean… before you became Queen. Before all of this."
Seraphine closed her eyes for a moment.
"Your father loved me the way a man loves fire. Warm at first… and burning in the end."
Kaelion lowered his gaze. "Did you ever love him?"
Seraphine gave no reply. But in the corner of her eye, a hint of clear liquid shimmered—quickly blinking away.
---
Night fell like a fog that harbored old wounds. Seraphine sat in the secret garden—the one she had planted herself during the early days of her marriage, when the world still felt worth hoping for. But now, the flowers looked like fragments of dreams that had never fully bloomed.
And from the shadows beneath the night trees, Rai'el appeared.
Not in human form.
But as a horned silhouette, his crimson eyes glowing softly, his tall frame wrapped in dark mist. Yet no terror lingered in his presence that night. Only longing hung thick in the air.
"Rai'el…" Seraphine whispered. Her voice had changed. It held pain. Yearning. Exhaustion.
The demon god approached slowly. He knelt before Seraphine, lowering himself not out of fear… but out of love.
"How many tried to destroy you today?" he asked, brushing his fingers against hers.
"Enough to fill a grand funeral… if I hadn't been strong enough."
Rai'el bowed his head and kissed the back of her hand. "And yet you still stand. Even as the entire kingdom breaks your spine with lies."
"I must live on. For this child. And for… something even I can't fully define."
"Love," Rai'el said simply.
Seraphine turned her face away. "That word… feels too light for all we've endured."
"No," Rai'el cupped her cheek gently. "That word is too vast. Only you… made it feel real."
And for the first time that night, Seraphine embraced Rai'el. Not in lust. Not in alliance. But as a woman broken—slowly learning to trust something invisible to human eyes: a presence that made her feel alive again.
---
Far at the edge of the world, inside the White Sky Temple, the Gods of Light sat in a circle of radiance.
"Balance has been broken," declared the god Vantris. "Demons and humans must not unite. Especially not to bear a child laced with chaotic magic."
"Seraphine… must be eliminated," one of them said. "And the fruit of her womb… must be destroyed before it opens the Gate of Night."
But among them, one remained silent. She only bowed her head, gripping her white robes tightly.
Her name was Elyra, goddess of love and protection.
And once… she had loved Rai'el.
---
Back at the palace, Seraphine stood before a silver mirror.
Her reflection no longer looked the same. She appeared more alive, though dark circles ringed her eyes from sleepless nights. Her belly had begun to swell, and with one tender touch, she stared at herself.
"I'm not a good mother…" she whispered. "But I will be a shield no blade can pierce—for you."
From behind the door, Kaelion heard her. He did not enter. But that night, outside his mother's chamber, he sat and kept watch. Not as a prince. But as a son—slowly beginning to understand the meaning of his mother's love, even if that love was wrapped in thorns.
And between them, a soft sound emerged.
From within Seraphine's womb, a heartbeat began to echo—gentle, yet full of strength.
A new life, not merely the child of a queen…
but the heir to a demon god's blood.
A throne poised to lead this kingdom to the boundary between light and shadow.
And all of it… had only just begun.