Night.
Ruined Castle.
Punditesos.
V
V V
V
The royals of Punditesos are down.
The chaos and wails in Punditesos were nothing like the world has ever seen before.
The night was a nightmare, the kind of chaos that no one could have ever imagined. The once-proud kingdom of Punditesos had been reduced to ash and ruin, its skies thick with smoke and fire. The castle walls, once impenetrable, now crumbled like sand beneath the onslaught of the ruthless invaders. The air was filled with the stench of burning wood and flesh, and the anguished wails of the dying pierced the night, mingling with the clash of steel and the distant, chilling cries of victory from the enemy.
Nothing was spared.
The courtyard was littered with the bodies of fallen knights and guards, their blood staining the cobblestones. The royal maids had either been butchered or were huddled in hidden corners, trembling behind doors that no longer promised safety. The attackers had torn through every defense, leaving only death and destruction in their wake.
And now, even the heart of the castle—once a sanctuary—was no longer safe.
Meanwhile, In a secluded part of the shattered stronghold, a lone figure moved through the shadows. She was the warrior queen of Punditesos, dressed in battle-worn armor, with her once-proud stance hunched with exhaustion and pain.
Blood seeped from the wound in her stomach, each step sending sharp stabs of agony through her body. She had her mouth agape as her breath came in ragged gasps from pain, but still, she pressed on, her focus narrowed to one goal, one desperate mission.
Her son.
The future of this fallen kingdom.
She could feel the life slipping from her with every heartbeat, but she refused to stop. The walls around her groaned, threatening to collapse, but they were nothing compared to the weight on her heart.
Her son, born only seven nights ago, was the only hope Punditesos had left. She couldn't let them take him. She couldn't let the true heir of the throne be snuffed out before he had even seen the light of his first sunrise.
Her left hand pressed firmly against the wound in her abdomen, the warmth of her blood soaking into her palm. She staggered through the corridors, her vision blurring terribly, but she followed the familiar path to her chambers—her sanctuary for her son.
At last, she reached the door. Her trembling hand pushed it open with the last of her strength. Inside, the chamber was dim, lit only by the dying embers in the hearth.
The walls felt cold, as if the very life of the castle had been drained from its bones. A maid stood frozen and shivering with fear by the baby's crib, her wide eyes darting to the queen's entrance.
"My queen!" The maid's voice broke, filled with dread. She glanced behind the queen before back to the red liquid seeping out of their queen.
"Melissa!" the queen gasped, her voice hoarse with pain as she clutched at her bleeding stomach. She knew the truth now—tonight would be her last. She could feel death creeping closer with every breath, but she couldn't afford to die yet. Not before her child was safe.
A second maid, startled by the queen's entrance, rushed from behind the heavy, wall-like curtains at the back of the chamber. "Yes, my lady?" she whispered, her voice trembling. Her face was pale, her hands shaking as she wiped them on her apron.
Ignoring the pain that seared through her body, the queen surged forward, staggering past both maids. She reached for the small bundle in the shadowed corner of the room—her infant son, swaddled and hidden, far too young to understand the horror outside.
With shaking hands, she lifted him from his makeshift bed, her heart breaking at the sight of him. So fragile. So innocent.
For a moment, the queen's vision swam, and she swayed on her feet, but she forced herself to remain standing.
She had no time to falter. Gently yet desperately, she thrust the child into Melissa's arms, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
"Take him," she whispered, her voice frantic. Her eyes darted to the blood now soaking her battle armor, but she ignored it, her only focus on her son.
She hated what she was about to say but it had to be done. Melissa gasped dramatically, already dreading what was to come.
"Look for Ysara…" the queen breathed.
Melissa frowned, caught off guard. "The Witch?"
"Yes, Ysara Windspire would take and protect him," She assured.
Ysara Windspire was a mysterious lady that the kingdom had labeled a witch and hadn't treated well since she arrived, Melissa couldn't believe the queen could trust someone like that
"What about Rebecca, My Queen, where is Rebecca?" the other maid asked as she quickly picked a cloak and blanket.
The queen simply shook her head. Rebecca was the princess of Punditesos and the queen had nothing to say about where her daughter was.
She shifted her gaze fixed on her pale son, she squeezed his tiny palm with trembling chin and right before the baby would open its eyes from the touch his mother turned and from under her mirror she took a paper that had some neatly written paragraphs on it folded it and gave it to Melissa.
"He will be a Victore" she mumbled.
This made melissa's heart shatter before she held the queens evergreen eyes, "My lady no, we could all run away" she pleaded but the queen had her mind set, she knew she would only slow them down, so… "Go!" she wailed.
"He must live," she said frantically, "He must come back to his land and fight for what is rightfully his, to fight for the people of Punditesos."
Melissa nodded deligently, while the queen weakend slowly, "Run, use the concealed door,"
Melissa's hands trembled as she took the child. Her wide eyes flicked between the queen and the tiny prince in her arms. "My lady... your wound..." she breathed, her voice breaking with horror.
"I don't have time." The queen's voice cracked, her strength fading. "You were here when my son was born. You must protect him... you must..."
Melissa gasped, her face drained of color as the gravity of the situation crashed down on her. She looked at the queen, already knowing what was coming, already dreading the words that would follow.
The warrior queen of Punditesos swayed, her body collapsing against the cold stone wall. Blood dripped from her wound, pooling at her feet, but her eyes never left her son. She pressed a trembling hand to Melissa's, closing her fingers around the swaddled infant.
"Promise me," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant cries of battle. "Promise me you will take him to her, to safety, to Ysara."
Tears welled in Melissa's eyes as she looked down at the infant prince, his small face peaceful amidst the chaos. "I... I promise, my lady."
The queen exhaled, a shuddering, final breath escaping her lips. She sagged against the wall, her body growing cold as her strength left her.
Her vision dimmed, and the world around her began to fade, but she clung to the last image she saw—her son, alive, safe in the arms of someone who would protect him with her life and get him to safety.
As the queen's eyes fluttered closed, the sounds of battle echoed louder, closer. The door shook under the weight of approaching enemies, and Melissa, heart pounding in her chest, held the child tighter.
The queen's final words hung in the air—a plea, a command, a mother's last desperate hope.
"Go, Save him... for the kingdom." the other maid prompted, she would wait for the intruders to at least slow them down.
Melissa nodded and rushed out through the concealed doors, the queen was dead and the only prince was being taken to safety.
And with that, the last light of Punditesos flickered out with the screams of that maid and walls.