Chapter 1: The Fall

The city of Evergrace shimmered under the pale light of the full moon. From the tall spires of the castle, it looked peaceful, like a portrait untouched by the ravages of time and war. But peace, Selene Ashford knew, was often a lie told by the victors. She had won her battles, fought her wars, but victory had come with a price, one she would soon find unbearable.

Selene stood on the balcony of the royal palace, the night breeze catching the silken threads of her raven-black hair. She had never felt more alone, despite the revelry taking place below. The grand celebration had drawn nobles from every corner of the kingdom—her kingdom—but the echoes of laughter and clinking goblets felt distant, like a memory from another life.

She pressed her fingers against the cold stone railing, her knuckles white from the pressure. Tonight was supposed to be a night of triumph. The rebellion had been quashed, the enemies who had dared to challenge her authority reduced to dust and ash. As Queen, she had secured the throne not just for herself but for the people of Evergrace. Yet, her heart was heavy, burdened by something far worse than any political rivalry.

"Your Majesty," a voice interrupted her thoughts. Selene turned to see Lord Elias Wren, her most trusted advisor, standing at the threshold of the balcony. His silver hair glinted in the moonlight, his eyes sharp and calculating as always.

"Elias," she acknowledged, though she couldn't hide the weariness in her voice. "Is everything in order for tomorrow?"

"The coronation will proceed without a hitch," he assured her, stepping closer. "The council has been informed, and the people are eager to see their Queen officially crowned."

The coronation. It should have been the pinnacle of her life, the moment when she would finally be recognized as the undisputed ruler of Evergrace. But all Selene could think of was the growing darkness in the corners of her mind, a feeling that something terrible was on the horizon.

"I still don't trust the North," she muttered, her gaze shifting to the distant mountains. The Northern Lords had been the last to surrender, and even then, Selene had sensed their grudging obedience. "They're too quiet."

Elias chuckled softly. "They are cowards, Your Majesty. They know better than to challenge you again."

She nodded but didn't share his confidence. Trust was something she no longer gave freely. Not since—her thoughts faltered, painful memories pushing to the surface. Not since Kael.

Kael had been her greatest ally, a commander whose loyalty had never wavered. Together, they had built an empire from the ashes of rebellion. But six months ago, he had been murdered—betrayed, it seemed, by the very people they had fought to protect. The image of his lifeless body still haunted her dreams, a reminder that even in victory, she could lose everything.

"You're thinking of him again," Elias observed quietly.

Selene stiffened, unwilling to let her emotions show. "What makes you say that?"

"You always retreat when you think of him. Into yourself." He studied her for a moment, his gaze too perceptive for her liking. "Grief makes us vulnerable, Your Majesty. It clouds judgment."

"Grief," she repeated softly, her voice laced with bitterness. "I don’t have the luxury of grief, Elias. I rule a kingdom built on bones and blood. My grief will not bring Kael back."

"It won’t," Elias agreed, stepping closer still, his voice softening to an almost conspiratorial whisper. "But you can still protect what you have left."

Before Selene could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind them. A messenger hurried into view, breathless, as if he had run the entire length of the palace. He stopped short before Selene, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty," he gasped. "There’s been… an attack."

Selene’s heart stopped. "Where?"

"The northern border," the messenger stammered. "The village of Grayhold. It’s burning."

Her pulse quickened. Grayhold was one of the last settlements she had secured after the rebellion. If it fell, it could spark a new wave of insurrection. Without another word, she turned to Elias, her eyes cold and resolute. "Ready my horse. We leave now."

Elias bowed but lingered. "Selene," he said quietly, dropping the formalities. "You shouldn’t go. Not without knowing what we’re up against."

"I need to see it for myself," she replied, her voice steely. "I won’t be a Queen who hides behind walls while her people suffer."

Elias hesitated, then nodded and left to make the arrangements. Selene’s mind raced. This was more than a simple raid; it was too well-timed, too precise. The Northern Lords were making their move, just as she had feared.

Within moments, she was riding through the darkened streets of Evergrace, her soldiers flanking her, Elias at her side. The wind whipped against her face, but she welcomed the cold. It sharpened her focus, reminding her that she was still alive, still fighting.

But nothing could have prepared her for what awaited at Grayhold.

The village was in ruins, flames licking at the charred remains of homes. Bodies littered the streets, some burned beyond recognition, others cut down where they stood. Selene dismounted, her chest tightening as she surveyed the devastation.

"They didn’t stand a chance," Elias muttered beside her, his face grim.

Selene’s eyes scanned the carnage, searching for something—anything—that would explain this horror. And then she saw him.

A man stood at the edge of the village, his back turned to her. His armor gleamed under the light of the flames, his sword dripping with blood. But it wasn’t his weapon that caught her attention—it was his voice.

"Selene."

Her breath caught in her throat. No, it couldn’t be.

The man turned, and for a moment, the world stopped. It was Kael. Alive. Breathing.

"Betrayed," he whispered, his voice like a knife. "By the one I trusted most."

Before she could react, pain exploded in her chest. Selene looked down to see the blade buried deep, her own blood staining the ground. The world blurred around her, the taste of iron filling her mouth.

"Elias…" she gasped, but when she looked at her trusted advisor, she saw only cold indifference in his eyes. He watched her fall without a word, without a trace of regret.

As the darkness closed in, Selene’s last thought was not of revenge or betrayal. It was of time. The moments slipping through her fingers, the past she could not change—unless

I hope you all like it ( ͡°³ ͡°) byeeeeeeee

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