Golden banners swayed above the throne room, casting flickers of warm light across marble floors and glittering gowns. The grand hall was alive with music and laughter—roaring, radiant, like the celebration would never end.
At the center stood the king, his hand resting protectively on the queen's shoulder. His smile was wide, too wide—like a mask hiding the storm churning beneath.
"My people," he declared, voice echoing from the high arches, "rejoice! The gods have heard our prayers. At long last... the queen carries an heir!"
The crowd erupted. Flowers rained down from the balconies. Joy lit the room like fire. And the queen, radiant and trembling, allowed herself—for a fragile moment—to believe their lives might finally be whole.
But joy is delicate in a kingdom ruled by fear.
That night, when the last wine glass was emptied and the torches burned low, the king sat alone in his private chamber—shoulders heavy, crown removed.
Before him stood the chief advisor, cloaked in black, his voice cold as iron.
"Your Majesty... the stars have spoken. The child will be born during the Shadow's Reign."
The king stiffened. "The cursed month..."
The queen, seated nearby, turned sharply. "Explain yourself."
The advisor's tone darkened. "The Shadow claims all born under its moon. The last time this omen appeared... blood ran through the streets. Your child may bring ruin upon us all."
The king's voice trembled. "You're saying… my own blood…"
"Must be... prevented," the advisor whispered.
The queen stood, rage flaring through her sorrow. "I will not let you harm my child!"
The advisor didn't flinch. "Then the kingdom will burn. Fear spreads faster than truth, Your Majesty. Already, whispers crawl through the streets. If the people believe their future king is cursed... they will rise."
The silence was suffocating.
The king looked to his wife. His heart split between love... and duty.
"If I do nothing," he said hoarsely, "they will come for us. For him."
Tears filled her eyes. "Then let their hate fall on me. Banish me, if you must—but do not touch our son."
The next morning, the king stood upon the palace balcony, his voice heavy with regret.
"My people... the queen has defied the will of the kingdom. For the safety of the realm, she is hereby stripped of her title and sent into exile until the end of the Shadow's Reign."
Gasps and murmurs rose. Then outrage.
"Witch!"
"Monster mother!"
"She'll curse us all!"
Rotten fruit and stones flew as the queen was led through the gates. She did not cry. She did not scream. She walked with her head high.
But when the gates slammed shut behind her, and only wind remained, her strength crumbled.
Snow fell like ash. The forest ahead was cold and endless.
Days passed. Her cloak, once royal velvet, now hung tattered and soaked with sleet. Her swollen belly ached. Her breaths came out in shivering gasps.
She held her stomach. "Just a little longer… hold on…"
Then, suddenly—pain. Blinding. Burning.
Her legs gave out.
She collapsed against a tree trunk, the world spinning around her, screams swallowed by the storm.
A silhouette moved in the blizzard.
A hunter—broad-shouldered, fur-lined hood dusted in frost, a bow across his back—emerged from the white.
He froze.
Then ran.
"My gods—!"
He dropped his game bag, rushing through the snow, kneeling beside the queen.
Her skin was ghost-pale. Blood stained the ground. Her breath came in wisps.
"Please…" she rasped. "My… baby…"
The hunter's hands, trained to grip arrows and skin deer, trembled as he lifted her gently into his arms.
And then—
A cry pierced the air.
There, in the heart of the frozen woods, beneath the howling wind and falling snow… a child was born.
The hunter tore off his cloak, wrapping the newborn tightly.
The queen, shaking, reached out with failing arms. Her voice was little more than wind.
"Shh... don't cry... Do you know… the most precious water in this world…?"
She smiled faintly. "It is not water... but tears. Your tears… are precious… don't waste them…"
Blood dripped from her nose. A single red line traced her cheek.
With trembling hands, she removed the chain around her neck. A silver-wrapped black crystal shimmered faintly.
"This… will guide him…"
She slipped the pendant over the child's head. The crystal rested gently on his tiny heartbeat.
"…My Rui…"
The hunter glanced up—and shuddered.
The air shifted.
Shadows rolled across the snow like smoke, creeping tendrils dancing on the wind. A presence lingered, unseen but unmistakable. Watching. Breathing.
The baby stopped crying. The storm fell quiet—as if the world itself held its breath.
The hunter clutched the child closer. "Gods protect us…"
The queen's eyelids fluttered.
Then… stillness.
Her hand slipped into the snow. Her warmth faded into the frost.
He bowed his head, tears freezing on his weathered face. "Your mother's tears… will not be wasted."
He stood, holding the newborn tightly, and vanished into the white abyss.
Behind them, the forest swallowed all sound.
And the world, indifferent as ever, moved on.
But what darkness lies within the heart of a child born of shadows and tears?
WATCH OUT AND STAY TUNED FOR CHAPTER 2!🔥