Chapter 1 – The Crown Shattered
The throne room blazed with golden light, chandeliers dripping with crystal fire. Musicians played, courtiers laughed, and goblets of jeweled wine clinked together in the air of triumph. Tonight was meant to be a night of celebration—ten years since the coronation of Queen Serenya of Aveloria.
Serenya stood tall at her husband's side, her crown glimmering beneath the banners of her house. She had fought wars, secured alliances, and brought peace to lands that once knew only blood. Yet even as she smiled at her people, a sharp chill tugged at the edge of her soul.
The King's hand tightened around hers. Too tight.
The music stilled. A hush spread like wildfire across the hall.
The King rose. "People of Aveloria!" His voice boomed against the marble pillars. "Tonight, we do not celebrate loyalty. We unveil betrayal."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Serenya's heart froze.
The King's guards marched forward. They did not kneel before her as they should. Instead, they leveled their spears.
"Serenya of Aveloria," the King said coldly, turning to her as though she were a stranger. "You stand accused of treason against the crown. Of consorting with foreign enemies. Of plotting my death."
The words struck like blades. Serenya staggered back. "What madness is this?" she demanded. "I have given everything for this kingdom—my blood, my armies, my—"
"Silence!" His voice thundered. "You would poison us further with your lies."
The nobles, once her allies, lowered their eyes. None stepped forward. Even those she had raised to power shifted away, as if her shadow burned.
"Who dares accuse me?" Serenya's voice cracked like steel.
The King's lips curved into a cruel smile. "I do."
And with a single gesture, her crown was torn from her head.
The hall erupted into whispers, a thousand voices clashing, yet not one rose in her defense. Serenya's heart hammered as iron shackles clamped around her wrists. The crown she had borne with honor now lay at the feet of her betrayer.
"You shall not die quickly," the King declared, savoring each word. "Death is mercy. You will be cast into exile—beyond the Gates of Ash, into the cursed lands where no soul returns. Let the shadows claim you."
The crowd roared, not with mourning, but with fear-driven silence.
Serenya met her husband's gaze. His eyes were flames without warmth, a void of betrayal. And in that instant, her sorrow burned away, leaving only a vow forged in fury.
If exile is to be my fate, she thought, then let the world tremble when I return.
The guards dragged her from the throne room as the music of betrayal echoed in her ears.
Chapter 2 – Exile's Road
The morning sun cut through the morning mist like a knife, revealing a world that seemed colder than death itself. Queen Serenya, stripped of her crown and dignity, was marched through the city streets, her hands bound by iron shackles. Every step on the cobblestones reminded her that the kingdom she had built with blood and sweat now spat at her as though she were some plague.
Children pointed. Merchants sneered. Even the guards who once bowed to her now cast wary glances, afraid that anyone associated with her might share her supposed treachery.
Serenya's stomach twisted. She had faced armies, schemed against warlords, and survived poisonings meant to end her life—but the humiliation of betrayal by the man she loved, in front of her people… this was a torment beyond any battlefield.
The King rode ahead, his golden armor gleaming in the sun. "Do not pity yourself, Serenya," he called over his shoulder. "Exile is a mercy compared to the fate you truly deserve."
"I do not fear exile," she spat, "only the man who would betray his queen!"
He did not answer. He never looked back.
The procession continued, leaving the city gates behind. The closer they came to the border, the colder the wind became. The land outside Aveloria was a wasteland of jagged cliffs, barren plains, and forests blackened by old fires. Beyond the horizon, mountains rose like jagged teeth against a gray sky.
The guards exchanged uneasy glances. Even they knew the stories. Those who had been sent into this cursed land rarely returned. Some said the forests moved at night. Some said the wind carried voices that drove wanderers to madness. Others whispered of creatures born from shadow, hunters that never slept.
One cloaked figure among the prisoners muttered something under his breath, barely audible. Serenya strained to hear it.
"The land… it does not kill. It awakens."
She turned sharply. His face was hidden beneath the hood, but his eyes glimmered with something unsettling—an edge of knowledge, or perhaps madness. Before she could ask, the guards shoved her forward.
The sun sank low, casting long shadows across the wasteland. The procession camped by a dry riverbed. Serenya sat on the rough ground, her chains clanking as she moved. She could feel her resolve hardening.
If this is death, she thought, then I will meet it on my own terms. If it is exile… then I will return stronger than the world has ever seen.
That night, when the campfire's glow flickered and shadows danced along the jagged rocks, the cloaked prisoner approached her quietly.
"Queen Serenya," he whispered, his voice low and urgent. "The King fears more than you realize. The land you are entering… it remembers bloodlines. It tests them. It awakens what lies dormant."
"What do you mean?" she demanded, suspicion coiling in her chest.
He leaned closer, his hood falling slightly to reveal a scar that ran across one side of his face. "Few who enter here survive. Fewer still return unchanged. You… may be the one who awakens. But beware. Power awakens not just in the blood, but in the shadows. And the shadows… they hunger."
Before she could respond, a howl ripped through the night, echoing from the forest beyond. The guards stiffened, hands tightening on their spears. The firelight trembled as if it sensed the threat approaching.
Serenya rose, her chains clanging. Her heart raced. She did not know what waited beyond the trees, but instinct told her—this is only the beginning.
The howl came again, closer this time. And then, from the darkness, glowing eyes appeared. Dozens of them. Circling. Watching.
The cloaked man muttered under his breath, "They are the first test… survive it, and you may yet see the crown again."
Serenya gritted her teeth. Let them come.
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