Chapter One: The Betrayal Beneath Thunder
The night sky above Vengourlus Palace boiled with storm clouds, churning like the chaos destined to unfold within its grandest chamber. Lightning shattered the heavens, casting jagged flashes through the rain-soaked windows of the royal office. Inside, the silence was eerie — not peaceful, but the kind that precedes devastation.
Ophelia stood in the middle of the vast, shadow-drenched chamber. Her golden eyes shimmered with guilt, the dim candlelight flickering over her pale face. In her trembling hands was a crystal vial — its contents a slow-working toxin, masked as a sedative. She had been told it would merely lull him into sleep.
But her heart screamed otherwise.
Augustus Virelion, the Duke of Vengourlus, lay slumped on the floor beside his obsidian desk, his ocean-blue eyes wide with disbelief. His breath was shallow, and a single line of blood painted his lower lip crimson.
"Why... you, Ophelia?" he rasped, each word a dagger into her soul. "Was I... nothing but a game?"
"I didn't know," she whispered, falling to her knees beside him. "I thought... I thought it was just a sedative. My father—he told me—"
Her words were severed by a slow clap from the shadows.
Emerging from the darkness near the corner bookshelf, Lord Cassarion Velmorne, Duke of Trevaris, stepped forward. His long silver hair hung like wet silk against his shoulders, and his cold smile cut through the room sharper than any blade.
"Bravo, my darling Ophelia. You've done exactly what I raised you for."
Ophelia turned, shock painted across her beautiful features. "Father..."
"Ah, no. Not anymore." He stopped a few feet from her, his expression void of empathy. "You were never my daughter. Your mother was nothing more than a pawn to infiltrate Vengourlus. I killed her long ago."
The air left Ophelia's lungs. Her mind reeled. "You said... you said she was safe..."
"Safe in the grave," he said dryly. "You were always just a tool. And now that you've poisoned the last Virelion, my revenge is complete."
"Poison...?!" she gasped, eyes snapping back to Augustus. "No, it was a drug! You told me—"
"I lied. Get used to it."
Lightning cracked again, this time illuminating the army that had begun to march through the castle gates. The war drums of Trevaris thundered outside.
Cassarion turned toward the door. "He'll be dead within the hour. And you? You've outlived your usefulness."
With that, he vanished into the corridor, leaving her crumbling on the floor.
Ophelia gathered her thoughts somehow...
She scrambled, frantically pulling open drawers, books, hidden compartments. Somewhere... she had left it somewhere.
The antidote.
She always carried it. Her childhood had been a cruel lesson in trust — Cassarion often poisoned her under the guise of training. And she'd learned. She'd hidden a vial, just in case.
There.
A hollow behind the painting. Her shaking fingers pulled out the bottle — clear liquid, glowing faintly.
She returned to Augustus, lifting his head gently. "Please... please, Augustus. Take this. I swear, I didn't know. I love you..."
But he turned his head away.
"You betrayed me, Ophelia... I trusted you."
"Then hate me after. Just don't die. Not because of me."
She forced half the antidote down his throat. By her mouth into his. He coughed, weakly swallowing. For a moment, hope flickered.
Then, the door burst open.
A tall figure stepped into the chamber, soaked in rain. Following her father's command "Get rid of her".
Ophelia's eyes widened.
"No... no.. you..."
The man grinned. Gorran. Her father's favorite hound. The monster who used to chain her up in dark cellars.
"You remember me, pretty bird? I've missed you," he sneered, drawing a dagger. His eyes fell on Augustus. "But I think I'll gut the Duke first."
Ophelia rose, grabbing the ceremonial sword from Augustus's wall. She held it out, her form shaking.
"Stay back! I swear I'll kill you."
He laughed. "You? Little Ophelia? Drop it."
She hesitated, lowering the blade. Gorran rushed forward.
The next moments were a blur of pain. He struck her, again and again, throwing her against the desk, smashing her into the cold marble floor. Blood bloomed from her mouth. Her limbs screamed in agony.
Augustus watched through blurry eyes, unable to move, his heart breaking at every blow she endured.
"Stop..." he whispered. "Don't hurt her..."
But the words barely escaped his lips.
When Gorran was done, he kicked Ophelia's nearly lifeless body and spat beside her.
"Trash."
Then he left, slamming the door behind him.
Rain pelted the windows. Thunder rolled.
Ophelia stirred. Her hand twitched.
Augustus was still breathing. Barely.
She crawled with all her might.
One inch.
Two.
Her ribs were shattered, her eyes swimming in red, but she pressed forward.
With trembling fingers, she uncorked the vial and tipped the rest of the antidote into his mouth.
He swallowed.
She smiled faintly, her hand brushing his cheek.
"Forgive me....live... for me... Augustus..."
And then the golden light in her eyes faded.
She fell still.
In the silence that followed, Augustus moved his hand — weak, but alive. He reached for her.
"Ophelia... no..."