Night settled over the palace in its usual quiet way, as though nothing within its walls had ever gone wrong.
Torches along the corridors burned low and steady. Servants moved carefully, speaking in hushed tones, careful not to disturb the Queen's rest. Most believed Athalia was finally sleeping peacefully under the care of her trusted physician.
That belief made the silence feel heavier.
And easier to hide things inside it.
Athalia lay on her bed, breath uneven but steady. One hand rested over her swollen belly, her fingers barely moving as exhaustion pulled her under. She had drifted into sleep after a long evening—soothing words, careful reassurance, and Selene's quiet insistence that everything would be fine.
Lira had retired to the adjoining room.
Leaving Selene alone.
She closed the door softly behind her.
The chamber smelled faintly of herbs and melted wax. Moonlight filtered through the curtains in thin, pale lines, falling across the bed like something fragile.
Selene stepped closer.
From within her cloak, she drew out a small globe.
It was smooth, cool, and faintly lit from within—its glow soft, almost breathing. She held it with careful hands, as though even thought might break it.
"I need you awake," she whispered.
Her voice barely existed.
She knelt beside the bed and brought the globe near Athalia's stomach—not touching, only close enough to be felt. The air shifted subtly, like a breath drawn too deep in a sleeping room.
Almost instantly, Athalia moved.
Not awake… but not still either.
Her brows tightened. A faint sound slipped from her lips.
Selene slowly withdrew the globe, tucking it back beneath her cloak. But the glow had already deepened—already done what it was meant to do.
Athalia's hand pressed hard against her belly.
"No…" she murmured in her sleep. "Please… not now."
Selene studied her closely. "Are you alright?" she asked softly.
The question was gentle. Measured.
Then the change came.
Athalia's body tensed sharply.
She gasped awake.
"Selene?" Her voice broke. "Something's wrong."
The movement inside her turned violent.
Sudden.
Sharp.
A cry tore from Athalia's throat, echoing through the chamber.
Selene stepped back immediately, slipping the globe fully away beneath her cloak. Her tone shifted—still calm, but louder now, urgent enough to carry weight.
"Your Majesty," she said. "Stay calm."
"It hurts…" Athalia gasped, gripping the sheets. "It's worse than before."
Before Selene could answer, the door burst open.
Lira rushed in, pale and breathless.
"My Queen!" she cried. "I heard you scream!"
Another violent surge wracked Athalia's body. Her voice broke again.
Lira froze.
"This isn't normal," she said quickly. "I must inform the King."
"Yes," Selene said quietly. "You must."
There was no hesitation in her voice.
Only certainty.
Lira turned and ran.
Selene returned to Athalia's side, placing her hands gently on her shoulders.
"Breathe," she instructed. "Slowly."
Athalia's eyes filled with tears. "You said it would ease," she whispered.
"It will," Selene replied. "Perhaps… it is simply beginning."
The palace woke like a struck bell.
Doors opened. Footsteps rushed through corridors. Voices rose in confusion and urgency.
Within minutes, King Adrian was dressed and moving, his robe thrown over his shoulders as Lira spoke breathlessly beside him.
"She screamed, Your Majesty," Lira said. "The child… it's hurting her badly. It may be beginning."
Adrian's expression hardened instantly.
"Summon the physicians," he ordered. "All of them."
The corridors filled with motion.
Lamps were lit in haste. Doors were knocked open. Physicians were pulled from sleep and brought running, still fastening robes as they hurried through the palace.
By the time Adrian reached Athalia's chamber, three physicians were already inside, hands working carefully over her.
"She is in severe pain," one said. "Strain is high. This is labor."
Another frowned deeply. "The child is strong. Too strong."
Adrian turned sharply. "She is not due for another month. What is happening?"
Selene lowered her gaze slightly. "I do not know, Your Majesty. The pressure increased suddenly. I was warned this might occur."
Athalia reached weakly for Adrian.
"Adrian…" she whispered.
He took her hand immediately. "I'm here."
Another wave of pain hit.
Less violent than before—but enough to make her gasp.
"We must stabilize her," a physician said urgently.
They worked quickly, voices overlapping, remedies prepared and administered, but nothing truly eased the strain.
Selene stood back, watching.
Saying nothing.
Hours passed.
The worst of the pain softened—but it never fully left.
Athalia lay exhausted, her breathing shallow but steadier. The physicians stepped away in quiet discussion, faces tight with uncertainty.
Finally, one spoke.
"This is beyond us."
Adrian turned sharply. "What do you mean?"
The man hesitated. "We cannot determine the cause."
Silence fell.
Adrian's eyes shifted toward Selene.
"You knew this would happen."
Selene met his gaze. "Yes."
"And you did nothing to stop it."
"I could not," she said evenly. "This is what I warned you about. It is progressing faster than expected. I can only manage it—not prevent it."
The room went still.
Adrian exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face.
"Bring more physicians," he ordered. "From every district. Anyone with knowledge."
"As you wish, Your Majesty," the guards replied.
By morning, the palace had become a gathering of healers.
Some argued quietly. Others examined Athalia in tense silence. Conflicting opinions filled the chamber.
"It is hormonal imbalance," one insisted.
"The child's pulse is irregular," another argued. "That is not natural."
"There is no recorded condition like this," a third said.
Selene remained in the corner.
Watching.
Never interrupting.
Never correcting.
Only waiting.
Lira stood near the doorway, increasingly uneasy.
"They don't agree on anything," she whispered.
Selene's voice remained calm. "That is what makes it dangerous."
Lira frowned. "It feels like something is going wrong."
Selene did not respond.
Later that day, a senior physician approached her privately.
"You have cared for the Queen longer than any of us," he said. "What do you think is happening?"
Selene met his eyes.
"You are all skilled," she said carefully. "But skill does not replace understanding of rare conditions."
He frowned. "Rare conditions?"
"Some do not respond to standard medicine," she continued. "Some are influenced by… older forces."
"Older than medicine?" he asked.
Selene did not answer directly.
Instead, she said softly, "Have any of you managed to remove her pain entirely?"
The physician hesitated.
That was answer enough.
That night, the arguments grew louder.
"This is beyond our field."
"We are physicians, not mystics."
"Why is nothing working?"
And somewhere deeper in the palace…
Selene watched it all unfold exactly as she intended.
King Adrian now spent most of his nights beside Athalia.
Sleep no longer came easily to him. His face had grown thinner, drawn by exhaustion, and his voice—once steady and commanding—had turned quiet and rough from endless reassurances that seemed to ease nothing.
One evening, Athalia turned her head slightly toward him.
"Adrian," she said weakly, "you don't have to stay."
His answer came immediately.
"I do."
She frowned faintly. "You're only exhausting yourself."
"I don't care," he said, firmer now. "I won't leave you alone. I didn't know you had been suffering like this… for so long." His voice lowered. "I need to find a way to ease your pain."
Athalia looked at him for a long moment.
"They don't even know what's wrong with me," she whispered. "How are they supposed to help?"
His jaw tightened. "They will find out."
"Will they?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer.
And that silence said more than words ever could.
---
Later that night, Selene found him standing by the window, staring into the dark forest beyond the palace walls.
"She is growing weaker, Your Majesty," Selene said quietly.
"I can see that," Adrian replied, his voice tight.
"You've done everything the palace can offer," she continued. "The best physicians. The best care. You've given them time."
"And still she suffers," he said bitterly.
Selene nodded once. "Some problems are not solved within palace walls."
Adrian turned sharply to her. "What are you suggesting?"
"That your fear is understandable," she said calmly, "but it is also costing her strength."
Silence stretched between them.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
---
The next morning, the royal physicians requested a private audience.
Adrian listened as each of them spoke in turn.
"We cannot explain her condition, Your Majesty," one admitted reluctantly.
"Our treatments only bring brief relief," another added.
"There may be knowledge beyond our reach," a third said, lowering his gaze. "Something outside this kingdom."
Adrian's expression hardened. "So you are telling me you have failed."
No one answered.
Selene stood quietly near the door.
Finally, the senior physician spoke. "She needs something different. Something beyond what we understand."
Adrian exhaled slowly, then looked toward Selene.
That glance was enough.
---
That night, Athalia cried out again.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just a broken, exhausted sound that made something in Adrian snap.
He was at her side instantly.
"I'm here," he said, lowering himself beside the bed. His voice wavered despite his effort to steady it.
"I'm so tired," she whispered. "It feels like I'm fading away."
Fear tightened in his chest.
He rose abruptly and turned to Selene. "You said you could help her."
Selene met his gaze. "I said I know where help can be found."
"Outside the palace," he said.
"Yes."
A long pause followed.
Adrian's expression hardened. "If anything happens to her—"
"It will not," Selene replied evenly.
"You will have full protection," he said after a moment. "And the tower will be built for her comfort."
"Thank you, Your Majesty. I would not suggest it otherwise."
He studied her face for any sign of hesitation.
There was none.
---
That night, Adrian summoned his mother.
"She's getting worse," he said. "And we're running out of time."
Queen Elizabeth listened carefully before speaking. "If this physician believes leaving the palace will help, then let her go. I will accompany her."
Adrian nodded. "Of course."
Elizabeth exhaled softly. "You swore you would protect her. I intend to help you keep that promise."
"I know," he replied quietly.
Her gaze shifted to Selene. "If this fails, you will answer to me."
Selene inclined her head. "I understand, Your Grace."
Elizabeth turned back to her son.
Adrian closed his eyes briefly—then opened them again with decision.
"Prepare everything within four days," he ordered. "She goes, and she goes safely. For now… help her endure the pain."
Selene bowed. "As you command, Your Majesty."
Athalia slept through it all, unaware that her fate had just been redirected.