Altheris had always been a quiet, powerful kingdom—but everything changed when the Crimson Amulet appeared. After barely surviving an attack by three formidable foes, Queen Ismira, bearer of the relic, had triumphed using her emotions as a weapon, though it had drained her to the bone.
Sunlight poured through tall windows, turning pale curtains to gold, but it could not soften the weight of the silence. Ismira lay propped against embroidered pillows the amulet resting against her collarbone, its chain warm where it touched her skin.
Seraphina stood at the edge of the bed, hesitant. She had only come to say goodnight but before she could stop herself. Her fingers moved curious and gentle, brushing against the stone.
The amulet flared to life. Crimson light spilled across the room, painting walls, curtains, and her hands in a pulsing glow. It did not burn—only warmed, like a heart awakening beneath her touch.
Ismira's breath caught, not in fear but recognition. She pushed herself upright, eyes sharp despite her weakness.
"The amulet seems… fond of you," she whispered.
Seraphina stepped back. "I didn't—"
"You did nothing wrong," Ismira interrupted softly, reaching toward her. "It recognized you. This is its way of choosing a new bearer."
The light did not fade.
Ismira's trembling fingers touched the chain at her throat. For a moment, she hesitated, feeling the weight of every life the amulet had touched. Then she lifted it free and placed it around Seraphina's neck. The crimson stone pulsed once—slow, steady—as if it had finally found its place.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Measured. Familiar.
King Alaric.
Before the door opened, Seraphina felt the air shift and stepped back. She looked to her mother, uncertain.
"Go wash your hands," Ismira murmured. "You have ink on your fingers."
Seraphina nodded and slipped away, the amulet hidden beneath her nightdress, yet its light lingered.
The door opened.
Alaric entered, eyes first on his wife but immediately drawn to the amulet's crimson light on Seraphina's chest. He caught only a glimpse of her before she disappeared.
"You gave it to her," he said with a calm yet sharp voice.
Ismira met his gaze. "It chose her."
He advanced, tension coiling in his shoulders. "That is what you think?"
"You saw it," she said softly. "You saw how it shone."
He looked away, memories flickering—red skies, devouring light, men in black armor turning to ash as they reached for it.
"That light is not a promise," he said. "The amulet did not save you. It drew them."
"I could not command my emotions," she admitted, fingers curling around his. "I tried to bend it to duty, to silence it. And it answered with fire."
"Which is why you lie here," he said, voice roughened.
"Yes."
Silence stretched, heavy and real.
Then softer:
"But she will learn, Alaric," Ismira whispered. "She is different. Stronger. She will guide the amulet's heart."
Alaric's jaw tightened. "The Order came once. They will come again."
"Let them," she said. "If the amulet sees her strength, you must see it too."
He looked down at their joined hands and decided to stop worrying at least for his queen.