"Another king dead, the third one this month…" Her eyes gazing down at Athenia, the goddess of mockery was fairly concerned by the sudden rise in the death of royalties. First, it was the king of crows, then Zeil, and finally the old king of the land named after her. It almost felt like a prophecy of doom, one that sounded concerningly similar to Pathfinder's warning. "Let's hope Milo will be a better king than his mother Maria is a queen."
With the king now finally dead, the queen no longer held any reign. She was a widow and a hurdle for the prince–that is if she decided to fight her claim over the luminated throne. Cast under the hues of stained glass, his wax-like skin was bound to soak its glow, and with it, Athenia hoped that he would soak the wit of a king as well.
