Silver Palace, Illendôr Empire, December 24, 1558, 7 p.m.
Alfirin walked gracefully down the stairs, her white high heels making a gentle reverberation throughout the opulent hall. She was headed to the dinner hall, where her father, as always, had meticulously chosen the evening's meal. Despite her well-mannered temper, she was actually quite a cheerful person, but she would rarely break character because of the formalities.
As she reached the ground floor, her gaze settled on her mother, the Empress Isilla. Alfirin greeted her with the respect expected of a royal daughter, offering a slight bow. Alfirin's mind was always sharp; she was always taking note of the subtle details of every interaction and expanding her knowledge even more. She admired her mother's royalty but knew how to keep a balance between intimacy to her family and her own well-tempered nature. But despite all the formalities, she never let her sense of humor die, always carrying a lightness within.
"Mother, I am much delighted to see you. Let us join the rest."
Isilla, noticing her daughter, smiled warmly. "Oh my darling, how exquisite you have adorned yourself." She stepped closer, taking Alfirin's arm with gentle affection. "You are right; your father and brothers must be waiting for us at the dinner table. Let us meet them."
Alfirin's heart warmed at the thought of seeing her family reunited after months apart. Her older brother Celdric had been sent to Syrdios, a lawless place where no authority reigned, to complete a dangerous mission. Her parents had been travelling, visiting different places throughout the empire in the name of the royal family, while her eldest brother Eldain had been occupied investigating mysterious deaths within the branches of the royal family. This dinner, the first in so long with all of them together, felt like a rare and cherished moment. Alfirin had longed for this chance to be with them again, knowing how precious such opportunities had become.
As Alfirin and her mother walked through the grand halls of the palace, their conversation knew no stop as it was filled with laughter, occasionally gossips, and light-hearted remarks, making up for the time they had spent apart. They wandered through the grand corridors of the Silver Palace for quite some time, their gentle chuckles, laughter, and conversation echoing off the high ceilings as they slowly made their way to the dining hall.
The palace was truly a work of masterpiece architecture. Every corridor they passed was lined with portraits and pictures of ancestors, carved ancient texts, and detailed sculptures, representing centuries of royal lineage, wealth, and knowledge. The bright glow of the huge chandeliers reflected against the marble floors, giving the palace an almost ethereal ambiance, while large columns stood silent in the sides, adding to the palace's grandeur.
When they finally arrived at the dining hall, Alfirin and her mother were greeted by the sight of the Emperor and her brothers, Celdric and Eldain, already seated and waiting. The hall itself was truly magnificent. Massive stained-glass windows were lined on the walls, casting soft colours onto the long, polished dining table, which had been meticulously set with the finest goblets, meals, decoration, and riches. The servants stood attentively on the sidelines, waiting for instructions while their faces remained calm and focused.
As Alfirin and Isilla entered, they greeted Emperor Nerodreas Panthael with the formal respect due to his title. Despite the casual warmth of a family reunion, tradition dictated a certain decorum, and Alfirin bowed gracefully before taking her seat. Nerodreas, the once-mighty ruler of the empire, sat at the head of the table. His presence was still enough to make him a formidable person despite his old age. His once dark hair had now turned nearly white, matching his daughter Alfirin's hair colour. His face, honed with the unforgiving flow of time, still held a certain handsomeness, and though age had dulled the edge of his sword, his mind was as sharp as ever. His eyes, though harnessed and worn out by the past, watched over his family with pride and affection.
Alfirin glanced at her brothers, seated nearby. Celdric, always the cheerful one, was smiling widely as usual. He was full of life, starting conversations with anyone, anywhere, regardless of who they were, and his laughter was infectious. Eldain, the eldest brother, on the other hand, was more reserved, a man of few words and deep thoughts. Yet tonight, even Eldain seemed lighter, his expression softening at the rare sight of the entire family together once more.
Nerodreas finally spoke, his voice gentle yet filled with authority, "We must pray before we satisfy our hunger." His worn out hands came together, and the rest of the family followed his gestures, bowing their heads. The prayer was quiet, and the room was filled with silence except for the Emperor's low murmur as he expressed gratitude for the meal and for their gathering.
After the prayer was over, there was a calm atmosphere across the table. Serving everyone the delicacies that had been prepared and arranged on the table beforehand—steaming meats, a wide range of regional flavours and dishes, freshly baked bread, the finest vine in the whole empire, and a variety of fruits and vegetables—the servants got right to work. Alfirin felt the warmth of this cherished moment as the meal began.
Conversation did not stop for the whole meal, nor after it. Celdric was the first one to break the silence in anticipation, speaking with his usual enthusiasm, his words sparking laughter around the table. Eldain was more reserved, and he occasionally spoke; his rather serious demeanour softened thoughtfully; the presence of his family was making him more light-hearted. Nerodreas, though more of a listener these days, watched over his children and wife with deep affection, his love for them clear in his eyes. It was in moments like this that the weight of his crown seemed to lighten, if only for a while.
As they continued their meal, the atmosphere grew even more relaxed. Excitement, laughter, and sometimes sadness and thrill filled the air as they told stories of their recent travels and encounters. As though trying to make up for the months of being apart, each member was putting in their own piece. For Alfirin, this reunion was something she had longed for—a chance to feel, even for a short while, that all was well and that they were a family, united and whole just like the old days.
Time passed by in haste as the sweet conversation among the royal family continued. Following the meal, Alfirin and her father went for a walk until nearly 11 p.m in the night.
Alfirin was now headed to her room along with her personal maids after stuffing herself with her family's affection and, of course, her delicious meals her father had deliberately picked for her. Though Nerodreas did not make it obvious, he had a favourite child who he held the most precious. Contrary to most of the people's beliefs, which were in the way that the eldest Eldain would be the Emperor's favourite, the emperor's actions, however, showed quite the opposite.
Alfirin was aware of this because she would never leave her father's side, even when they were going to hunt, fish, train, or even deal with some political business.
Alfirin was quite the stubborn kid back then, but thanks to that trait, she was favoured by her father the most, though that did not win her the right to rule the empire as the rules followed the traditional system of being chosen by "fate."
After ascending the stairs, making their way through the vast hallways, and greeting the knights and guards who were waiting for protection, Alfirin and her attendants eventually arrived at her room.
Poline, one of the servants, quickly grabbed the handle of the door to Alfirin's room and opened it for her. She had dark-brown hair and dark eyes; her looks were rather beautiful, but one could see the sadness and the burden she was carrying in her eyes.
Alfirin settled in front of a full-length mirror in the corner, and Poline opened the lights as they entered. "You may leave." She ordered the servants other than Poline to leave the room. The final servant left and closed the door softly, and the luxurious room fell silent, soon to be broken by Poline's gentle voice.
Poline stood behind Alfirin, helping her unlace her formal dress. "I'm glad to see you so happy, my dear lady. You must have missed Your Highnesses very much." Her words, softened by her northern accent, came as she prepared Alfirin's casual nightwear and began loosening her hair.
"Of course I did. How could I not? They're my family." Alfirin's tone was casual yet fond. "Mother says she wants to take me on a vacation and that I need to leave the palace and see more of the world." She sighed, then added, "She's right, I want to go, but I still have training to complete."
Poline's face warmed. "You mean your secret training, the one you do every time His Highness Nerodreas and Her Majesty are away?" She gently let Alfirin's wavy, white, mixed with soft-blue hair fall loose after carefully untying it.
Dressed down, Alfirin changed into a more relaxed attire—a loose black trouser and a white shirt beneath a long, oversized black leather coat. She loved the freedom of these clothes and how they defied the palace's rigid formality. "Don't say it like that—I'm a natural shooter. Just need a bit more time to perfect it." She said confidently.
Alfirin moved to the round table by the sofa and switched on the radio, letting the soft notes of classical music fill the room. "Poline, could you open the curtains? I want some moonlight inside."
"At once, my lady." Poline went to the window and pulled back the curtains, only to gasp at the sight before her. She shrieked and stumbled back to Alfirin while her face quickly became pale. "Princess! We must warn everyone now!"
Alfirin's heart quickened at Poline's panicked tone. "What happened?" She moved to the window herself and froze at the horror below.
The courtyard was a bloodbath. Bodies of guards, servants, and even animals lay scattered, limbs and lifeless eyes staring blankly. The courtyard's central fountain had turned a deep, sinister red, its water replaced by blood. Not a single soul remained standing, and there was no sign of the one who did it.
Her mind raced, and her heart was pounding like a war drum. She reached out to Poline, who was trembling uncontrollably. "We must stay calm and quiet. Someone will come for us." Whether bad or good… She said added inwardly.
Quickly, she dashed to her bed, retrieving two silver revolvers hidden beneath her pillow—her secret weapons that she always practiced with. With Poline's help, she loaded the belt that she got from her closet with ammunition, strapping it around her waist before pulling the desk against the door to create a makeshift barricade. They crouched beside the bed, Alfirin gripping her weapons and Poline holding whatever she could find.
All around them, the palace was filled with the screams of the dying, crashing explosions, and rapid gunfire that shook the walls. Then, only silence remained for a moment—footsteps approached in haste to the room, fast and steady, stopping just outside the door. The handle rattled violently before stilling. Poline and Alfirin looked at each other in fear as they held their breath and prepared for the worst.
The door busted open, breaking both the desk and the door. Alfirin and Poline braced themselves as they watched the figure walk out of the dust.
The person had a tall, familiar figure, short, black hair, and a lovely face. It was Celdric who came through the door! "Alfirin!" he yelled as he hurried into the room. "Are you here?" He saw both Poline and Alfirin, who were ready to defend themselves. He smiled and rushed to them as soon as he saw them.
Alfirin placed the guns on her belt again and ran to Celdric, hugging him tightly. Her eyes began to well up with tears as she asked, "What is happening, Celdric?" She asked, her voice cracking. She was so relieved and delighted to see someone she could trust in this situation.
Celdric calmly said, "I have to get you out of here as soon as possible," while holding Alfirin's face between his palms.
"There is an attack by an unknown faction." He wiped off Alfirin's tears and spoke again, "You know father is strong. He is dealing with them right now, so never let go of my hand as I lead you out, alright?"
Alfirin took Celdric's hand and nodded silently in reply. "Come on, Poline, we have to get out." She called her, and without delay, Poline followed them as they left the room.
They rushed into the grand halls with Poline at their side. The sight before them was harrowing; the familiar faces of guardians, servants, and friends lay slain on the cold, marble floors. They averted their eyes as much as they could as they made their way to the palace's central atrium.
Reaching the massive, open balcony at the heart of the palace, they gazed down to the lower levels. There, Emperor Nerodreas stood, fighting off two adversaries, his figure commanding yet desperate as he shielded the unconscious Empress Isilla behind him.
"Father…" Alfirin whispered in awe as she looked down to the ground floor, her voice barely a breath. "We must help him." She turned to Celdric, her eyes pleading. "Please, Celdric, we can't just leave them."
Celdric's expression hardened, though sorrow flickered in his gaze. "I'm sorry, Alfirin, but my duty is to get you out. There's no other way."
From below, Nerodreas felt their presence. He looked up, catching sight of his children; a faint smile crossed his face as he gripped his longsword, perhaps accepting that this might be the last time he would see them.
As he stood in the corner, suddenly a shadow surged towards him from his own shadow, aiming for his heart. In a single split second, he spun, decapitating the figure that emerged.
He fought with restraint, controlling each swing of the sword. He knew that if he unleashed his full strength, the palace, his enemies, and the long history of the Panthael family's legacy would be torn to ruins.
But in truth, he couldn't care less about those. The only thing that was on his mind was his family, which was a crucial vulnerability his enemies would exploit.
Suddenly, his vision blurred, darkness clouding his sight. Twisted, nightmarish creatures began to crawl out from the shadows, circling him. Among them loomed a figure who could be barely called a human. Its slim, malformed body watched him, its eyes filled with hollow.
Beside it was another figure, a woman with long, white hair, red falling to her hair's ends. She had a fine figure, wearing a silver, sleek white suit with black trousers. Blood of innocents was pouring from her mouth like a fountain.
On Emperor's right, a gigantic man, nearly three meters tall and muscled, moved forward. He had dressed quite fancifully, wearing a luxurious suit and fitted trousers. His skin looked nothing out of the ordinary, but it was impervious to any blade or bullet. He grinned with chilling cruelty, standing without a doubt.
Though Nerodreas was blinded temporarily, his senses were sharp; he felt every hostile presence like the sting of steel. With flawless precision, he moved decisively, his sword slicing through the shadows that lunged at him from all directions. He closed his eyes, channelling his focus, and lunged at the monstrous, slim figure, slicing it to smithereens with lightning speed.
Yet it reassembled behind him in an instant, shackling around his body like thick chains. No matter how he struggled, it bound him tighter, rendering him motionless.
The woman laughed with a mocking tone. "If only you could see yourself from here, swinging at empty air. Watching you fight whatever you see there is just… ridiculous."
The tall, muscled man took a step forward as he spoke with a calm voice. "Take it easy on him. How could he know he was only fighting his own imagination, all thanks to the relic?" Without a delay, he drove his fist into Nerodreas' gut, sending him crashing through several walls.
The muscled man strolled over to Isilla's unconscious body and lifted her onto his shoulder, casting an impatient look at the woman.
She grinned, catching his gaze. "Finally, my turn! I was getting bored." She raised her hand, and instantly, the blood that soaked the palace's floors began flowing towards the centre of the grand hall like a crimson waterfall. It pooled midair, forming a coffin of glowing red.
The coffin descended slowly, made of the very essence of the bloodshed that filled the palace. "Let the lady rest," the woman said mockingly as she opened the coffin's lid.
The tall man brought Isilla over and laid her down gently inside the blood-red coffin befire it slowly began shuting itself off, sealing the empress within.
"Mom!!" Alfirin's scream broke through the chaos, her voice filled with desperation. But her cry barely reached beyond, lost in the distance between her and her parents. She struggled against Celdric's hold while trying to break free and run towards her father and mother. She kept attempting, but her efforts were in vain as Celdric never loosened his grip.
"We must go!" His voice was firm, and his eyes were locked on her as he held her close, determined to keep her from going towards certain death.
Nearby, Poline stood fascinated at the sight below; her eyes were fixed on the woman standing amidst the chaos below. Poline had an unwavering gaze, not even blinking once. The strange woman, covered in blood, seemed to draw Poline's attention with an unbreakable pull. Poline leaned closer over the edge, inch by inch, her hand reaching out instinctively, until half her body was hanging dangerously over the ledge.
"Oh, how beautiful she is." Poline's voice was soft, as if speaking only to herself.
Alfirin caught sight of Poline just then, her panic momentarily shifting to her friend. "Poline, what are you doing?" She said weakly, her voice defeated.
Poline's lips curled into a soft smile. "How pitiful would I be if I couldn't join her?" Her voice was gentle but filled with a strange, unwavering conviction. "I shall not be stopped, and if you try, may the old and new gods bring their wrath upon you." With a calm demeanour, she swung one leg over the edge, then the other, fully committing to her conviction.
"Poline! Get yourself together; have you gone mad?" Alfirin's voice grew louder in an attempt to call Poline and break the invisible wall between them.
Alfirin made a desperate move to reach her, but Celdric blocked her, holding her back once more. "Let me go!" she shouted, her eyes flashing with fierce desperation as she looked up at him, pleading.
"She's already tempted, Alfirin! There's nothing we can do for her now."
Celdric's voice was hard, though carrying a hint of sorrow. "Come on, we're leaving." He spoke with a firm voice, but Alfirin fought against him, her strength fading with every moment of resistance.
"How come we're not 'tempted' then?" Alfirin's voice cracked, her body collapsing as her strength left her. "What happened to her?" she asked, struggling against the overwhelming sense of defeat settling over her.
But Poline was beyond their reach. She took a step forward into nothingness, her gaze fixed on the woman below. She descended from the ledge as if embracing her fate, falling into the embrace of death as Alfirin's anguished cries echoed behind her.
Celdric held Alfirin close as her body went limp in his arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely steady. "But I can only save you."
His eyes showed pity and pain as he looked at her, but he quickly turned away, hiding his emotions. With incredible speed, he descended the stairs, carrying Alfirin down into the underground. He avoided the watchful gazes of numerous figures that loomed over the palace.
Emperor Nerodreas opened his eyes slowly; his body was crushed under the weight of his injuries, broken bones, and his blood pooling around him. He gripped his sword while struggling, using it as a crutch to pull himself up from the rubble. With each staggered step, he left a trace of blood behind him, but he kept on walking, his gaze set on the main hall.
When he reached there, he froze. There, amidst the bright light and gazing shadows, he saw Isilla laid in a crimson coffin. His heart slowed, and he staggered forward, coughing up blood. He forced himself to stand tall even when his strength faded.
"What… are you-"
Before he could finish, heavy footsteps echoed through the hall, steady and unhurried. A figure stepped forward, silhouetted against the light. Tall and poised, with dark-brown, wavy hair and a handsome, cold expression, Prince Eldain appeared, dressed in a dark, luxurious suit with black gloves, his demeanour calculated and calm.
Eldain's voice cut through the air, firm and unwavering. "It is time for you to stop, Father."
Nerodreas faltered, his vision blurring, struggling to comprehend the sight before him. But Eldain continued, his tone calm but firm.
"Father, you have been the light of hope for the lost, a guide through the darkness, a teacher for the ignorant, and, most importantly, a father to your family. And I thank you for that."
Eldain paused, standing a few steps away from his father. His gaze was unyielding as he looked into Nerodreas's eyes, his voice cold and decisive.
"But you and your legacy remain in the past now. You are needed no longer in the new age and empire we are building."
Nerodreas's grip on his sword slackened, his expression breaking with a mixture of disbelief and grief. He managed only a whisper, "Eldain?"
Eldain's response was steel-cold. "It is the end of your reign, Father. The new age is beyond you—I am beyond you." His voice rose, echoing throughout the hall with chilling certainty.
Nerodreas spoke as if he felt a dagger stabbing him from the heart, his voice cracking with sorrow.
"Even you, Eldain?"
Eldain remained silent, meeting his father's gaze without a shade of hesitation.
Nerodreas swallowed the betrayal, lifting his sword once more. His voice was quiet but resolute. "I am sorry, son. I am sorry for failing my duty to protect this family." He raised his blade, his eyes never leaving his son's. "But let it be known that I never gave up fighting for it."
With a final burst of energy, Nerodreas lunged forward, his sword swinging with a speed that defied his wounds and reason, aiming for Eldain's head. But Eldain moved as if he danced elegantly, sidestepping the blow, then, in a swift moment, he closed the distance and embraced his father—plunging a blade right into his heart.
Nerodreas's breath subsided, his gaze meeting Eldain's, the pain of betrayal clear in his eyes. He stumbled, his body collapsing, and his blood pooling around him. As his vision dimmed, his last breath escaped in a whisper.
"Alfirin…"
And with that, Emperor Nerodreas fell silent, leaving behind a shattered legacy and a family torn by ambition and betrayal, while his eyes fell on the coffing of Isilla.
As Emperor Nerodreas lay lifeless on the ground, a creeping silence descended over the grand hall. Soon after, dozens of figures emerged from every corner of the palace in an instant, descending swiftly to the ground floor, where they kneeled before Eldain.
The clock struck midnight and welcomed the next day—December 25th—sealing the end of an era and marking the birth of a new age. The Ilendôr Empire now stood on the brink of an unknown fate, its destiny resting in the hands of those who had just betrayed its legacy.
…
Celdric and Alfirin had reached the Ever-Wonder Forest after slipping out through a hidden entrance at the palace's back. Celdric's incredible pace had carried them far, putting distance between them and the tragedy that occurred in the palace. Alfirin's almost fainting consciousness had relaxed unwillingly on her brother's arms, her consciousness clinging to the edge of sleep as if to escape the truth of what had happened.
They reached a large, still lake surrounded by the ancient trees of the forest. Celdric gently laid Alfirin down beside the water, the soft grass welcoming her. The three moons hung high above, casting their purple light over her. She opened her eyes faintly while trying to speak, but could barely manage a whisper.
"Celdric… Where is Eldain?" Her hand moved weakly, caressing over his cheek as she looked up at him. Upon losing her parents, Alfirin asked, looking for a spark of hope, a slim chance that Eldain was still alive. She wanted an answer to all of the things that happened earlier at night, but her older brother's welfare was of more importance to her.
Celdric had a sorrowful look on his face; he gripped her hand tightly, then shifted his gaze to the horizon beyond the lake. "Alfirin, you must stay away from this place from now on. The Illendôr Empire... It's not safe for you any longer, for only death awaits if you return."
He tried to maintain a stern expression while suppressing his tears. It was getting difficult with every moment to keep his composure. This forest had only allowed for certain people to safely and freely wonder within, which included the royal family. The forest itself was alive and had been a home to several generations and legacies, as well as being the playground for Alfirin and Celdric.
"Eldain is safe; I will be safe too. However, you must find your way out of the empire. It doesn't matter where you go; as long as you are within the borders of the Illendôr Empire, no one is your ally, and no one is to be trusted."
Alfirin resisted her temptation to sleep as she spoke in bewilderment.
"I do not understand, Celdric. None of this makes any sense."
He held her shoulders firmly, his hands trembling. "The Wheel of Fortune chose you, Alfirin. And we both know what that means. You must go, far beyond the borders of Illendôr."
He held Alfirin's hand and continued. "Now take a deep sleep; Eldain won't find you here for a good while."
Alfirin was having a hard time comprehending the ridiculousness of the situation, and before she could even answer, her consciousness started fading away. She knew Celdric was putting her to sleep as he did whenever she had nightmares back in the sweet old days.
Her eyes slowly shut, and within seconds, her breathing steadied as she slipped into a deep, quiet sleep. With a silent sigh, Celdric leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead the way he used to when she had nightmares. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the Ever-Wonder Forest, leaving her resting under the watchful gaze of the three moons.
…
The sun had long risen from east, and Alfirin's sleep was still undisturbed. The birds were singing, the animals by the lake were engaged in their delicate cycle of life, and a gentle breeze whispered through the trees, brushing softly against Alfirin's skin. Yet, a profound stillness lingered in the air, as if the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to unfold.
Then, as if from a dream, a soft, echoing voice drifted through Alfirin's mind.
"Wake up."
The words were soft yet compelling, breaking through the veil of her dreams and pulling her toward consciousness.