A Few Days Later...
Sheila opened her eyes and immediately realized she was no longer in the palace.
She was inside a cart, rattling along a rough road toward her captors' kingdom.
Slowly, she sat up and looked around.
Her sisters were there.
All six of them.
Apart from a few scratches and bruises from being dragged around, they seemed unharmed.
The youngest, Stel, was curled against Kara's shoulder, quietly crying.
Sheila crawled over and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around the young girl.
The seven princesses of Havon were Kara, Kathleen, Sheila, Mara, Michelle, Michal, and Stel.
Kara and Kathleen were daughters of the king's second wife. Sheila's mother had been the crowned queen, but she had struggled to conceive and did not bear a child until after Kathleen was born.
Desperate for a son, King Lugard had taken a third wife. She, too, gave him only daughters.
Mara was born first, only six months before Sheila. Michelle and Michal arrived two years later, while Stel was born shortly before Sheila's mother died.
Despite being born to different mothers, the sisters shared a strong bond. They had grown up looking after one another, especially Stel.
Although Kara was the eldest, she was not the heir.
That honor belonged to Sheila, the first daughter of the crowned queen.
Fortunately, none of them cared much about titles.
They were sisters before anything else.
The cart suddenly lurched to a halt.
Outside, they heard soldiers approaching.
The girls instinctively retreated to the back of the cart and huddled together, as if doing so might somehow make them disappear.
The doors swung open.
Sheila's stomach tightened.
Standing outside was the man who had murdered her father.
Only a few days earlier, she had danced with him.
For a brief moment, she had even imagined they might become friends.
Now she knew better.
He was just another bloodstained criminal.
"Good afternoon, ladies," he said. "I hope the journey wasn't too uncomfortable."
Before anyone could reply, a soldier came running toward him.
"Your Highness! Prince Delvin!"
The man dropped to one knee, panting heavily.
Delvin looked down at him.
"Yes?"
"The king, sir. His health has worsened."
The prince's face immediately drained of color.
For a moment, genuine fear flashed across his features.
He glanced toward the castle overlooking the mountains.
"Untie the ladies and escort them to my guest quarters," he ordered.
The soldiers nodded.
"I'll join you shortly."
With that, Delvin turned and hurried away.
The sisters were led to a small manor surrounded by rose bushes.
From its balcony, they could see vast mountains stretching into the distance.
Despite everything that had happened, Sheila found herself impressed.
Perhaps their situation wasn't entirely hopeless.
Meanwhile, Delvin rushed through the castle halls and into his father's chamber.
The old king lay weakly upon his bed.
Delvin immediately dropped to his knees beside him and took his hand.
"Father."
The king slowly turned his head.
Delvin kissed the old man's hand and forced a smile despite the tears gathering in his eyes.
"I've returned," he said. "And I have brought victory."
The king's expression remained grave.
"Son, I want you to take the throne."
Delvin shook his head immediately.
"You know that won't be allowed."
"As long as Dorian lives," the king replied.
The prince stood and began pacing.
"Father, I'm the youngest. I couldn't take the throne even if I wanted it."
"Then kill him."
Delvin froze.
The king's eyes hardened.
"He is not my son, and he is not your brother. If he takes the throne, he will defile everything our family built."
"What am I supposed to do?" Delvin asked.
The old king reached beneath his robe and withdrew a silver locket.
"Dorian has already killed your brothers. Soon he will come for you."
Delvin searched the room anxiously for a weapon.
"Relax, boy," the king said.
He motioned for Delvin to kneel beside him once more.
When Delvin obeyed, the king gently placed the locket around his neck.
"I'm sorry, son," he whispered. "But this is for your own good."
The locket suddenly burst open.
A cloud of black mist erupted from within.
Delvin stumbled backward as the darkness wrapped itself around him.
The room trembled.
The shadows grew thicker and thicker until they consumed every corner of the chamber.
The king smiled weakly.
"You are now the Dragon's Vessel."
His body went limp.
The king was dead.
At that very moment, the chamber doors burst open.
Dorian strode inside accompanied by armed guards.
He stopped when he saw the cloud of darkness filling the room.
"What is this?" he demanded.
The guards hesitated.
"Check for the body."
Two soldiers entered the darkness.
Moments later, their voices echoed back.
"The corpse is here, sire!"
Dorian smiled.
"Good."
Delvin and Dorian were two of the twelve sons of King Noran Pascal, ruler of Colgard.
The king had only one daughter, Dolores, who had been sent to a neighboring kingdom at a young age to learn the customs and etiquette of foreign courts.
Within the royal family, peace had never existed.
The palace had always been a battlefield.
Each prince had spent his life fighting for the throne.
Now only a few remained.
Meanwhile, Sheila decided to explore the castle grounds.
The manor was beautiful, but curiosity eventually got the better of her.
She wandered through gardens, courtyards, and stone pathways until she discovered a strange circular building standing apart from the others.
A dragon statue rested atop its roof.
Something about it drew her in.
She pushed open the doors and stepped inside.
The interior was breathtaking.
Ancient pillars stretched toward a domed ceiling painted with faded murals.
As she ventured deeper into the structure, she noticed a section concealed behind long silk curtains.
Darkness lingered beyond them.
Curious, she pulled the curtains aside.
Sunlight flooded the hidden chamber.
The walls were covered in strange carvings.
Sheila approached carefully.
As she traced one of the symbols with her fingers, a sharp edge sliced her palm.
She winced.
A drop of blood landed on the carving.
Immediately, a wave of nausea hit her.
The symbol began to glow.
Something moved beneath her skin.
A sharp pain shot through her arm.
She staggered backward and grabbed the wall for support.
The room spun around her.
Then she saw her.
A woman stood in the center of the chamber.
She wore a black wedding dress.
Her pale face was expressionless.
Her eyes seemed impossibly ancient.
The woman slowly approached.
Sheila tried to run.
Her legs refused to move.
The woman reached out and gently took her injured hand.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
Then the woman's body crumbled into black ash.
The ashes swirled through the air and rushed into Sheila's body.
Sheila screamed.
The pain became unbearable.
Darkness consumed her vision.
A second later, she collapsed onto the stone floor.