Once, the night sky of Erylian was a canvas of brilliant starlight, with twinkling stars that reflected the timeless faith of the people who inhabited this land. However, tonight, the night sky was consumed by thick smoke, obscuring the stars, and the only light came from the raging flames that painted half the sky in a crimson glow.
The greedy flames licked hungrily at the sumptuous curtains of the imperial palace, casting grotesque and terrifying shadows across the marble floor, the light and dark dancing like a frenzied demonic ritual. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning cedar, a fragrance that once brought comfort and luxury, but now stung the nose, like the tolling of a funeral bell, heralding the downfall of the Erylian Empire.
Dressed in the deep purple robes that symbolized the Erylian royal power, Empress Leila stumbled through a hidden passageway, her labored breaths echoing in the confined space. Normally, she exuded an innate grace and composure, but now, her face was etched with fear and helplessness, a terror she had never known before gnawing at her throat, urging her to flee.
Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, as if it might burst forth at any moment, each beat a futile struggle against her fate. She knew she had nowhere left to run.
"Leila! Don't run, you can't escape!" A cold, familiar voice echoed through the passageway, carrying a chilling sense of oppression as it drew closer.
Leila recognized the voice as Kalen's. Once, his voice had been a soothing balm for her anxieties, a guiding light in her moments of despair. But now, it rang like a funeral toll from the depths of hell, announcing her demise. Leila's heart, already a captive bird frantically beating its wings, nearly stopped at the sound of Kalen's voice.
Kalen emerged from the shadows, clad in the navy blue form-fitting shirt he often wore. His once-handsome face was now twisted with the cold cruelty of ambition. The warm, hazel eyes that had once radiated a comforting calm now burned with an icy fire that sent shivers down Leila's spine. The loyal advisor, the friend who had sworn to devote everything to her and the empire she ruled, had vanished, replaced by a demon in familiar guise.
"Kalen, why?" Leila choked out, her voice trembling and barely audible. "I trusted you so much..."
A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, a glimpse of the Kalen she had known. "Forgive me, Leila," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the gloved hand that gripped a dagger encrusted with gemstones. "But the weight of this crown is too heavy... It was never meant for you."
Without another word, Kalen lunged forward, the emerald gems on the dagger flashing in the air. Leila's agonized scream pierced the silence as the blade tore through her purple robe, her exquisite undergarments, and deep into her flesh. The searing pain consumed her, making it impossible to breathe. Leila collapsed onto the cold, stone floor, the world tilting and spinning around her.
"Long live the new emperor!" a triumphant voice rang out from behind Kalen.
Leila's gaze, though fading, turned towards the source of the voice. There stood her cousin Anya, her pale face twisted into a cruel smile. The shy, seemingly harmless girl Leila had once known had transformed into a venomous serpent, basking in the glory of her victory as she looked down upon Leila with disdain.
Betrayal. The agony of the knife wound paled in comparison to the anguish Leila felt in her heart. Her own flesh and blood had orchestrated this coup, condemning her to a painful death in this forgotten passageway – a passage Leila herself had once explored as a child, with Kalen by her side, when their world was carefree and boundless, like the starry sky above.
Leila's consciousness began to waver, the world around her blurring into darkness that threatened to consume her. She could only watch helplessly as Anya leaned down, her venomous words dripping with malice.
"You see, dear cousin," Anya's voice hissed like a snake, "true power is not inherited, but earned."
These were the last words Leila, the Empress of Erylian, heard before she plunged into the endless abyss.
Eira jolted awake, a sharp pain cutting through her. She gasped, sitting up abruptly, her thin nightgown clinging to her sweat-dampened skin. Eira took deep, greedy breaths, like a drowning person finally surfacing, desperate for fresh air. Yet, the suffocating terror of the dream still lingered, her heart pounding furiously, as if it might burst from her chest.
Eira looked around the dimly lit room, her rapid breathing and heartbeat the only sounds breaking the silence. It was just a dream. A terrible, painfully real nightmare.
She was Eira, the forgotten second daughter of Baron Erikr, living in a remote, impoverished corner of the Erylian Empire, a insignificant nobody. Her life was quiet and mundane, filled with embroidery, harp practice, and dreams of marrying a suitable man – a far cry from the high-powered empress betrayed in the dream.
Yet, as Eira pressed her hand to her chest, she could still feel a phantom pain, as if a needle had pierced her heart. And the name she had whispered was not her own.
"Leila..."
Eira drew back the bed curtains, lighting the oil lamp on the bedside table. The soft glow dispelled the darkness, illuminating her pale face and troubled eyes. Eira's hands were tightly clasped, her knuckles white, as she tried to recall the details of the dream, to understand why such a vivid nightmare had filled her with such terror.
"Leila... Who is Leila?" Eira murmured to herself, attempting to piece together the fragmented memories, but beyond the unfamiliar name and the bone-deep fear, she could recall nothing.
"My lady, are you alright?" a gentle voice came from the doorway.
Eira looked up to see her maid, Marie, standing there, a candleholder in hand, her face etched with concern.
"I'm fine, Marie," Eira took a deep breath, forcing a pale smile. "It was just a nightmare, nothing more."
"What kind of nightmare could have frightened you so?" Marie asked, setting the candleholder on the bedside table and stepping into the room.
Eira hesitated, then shook her head. "It was nothing, just a jumble of nonsense. I'm alright now."
Marie studied Eira's ashen face, knowing there was more she was hiding, but she didn't press further. "Well, if you're sure, my lady. It's late, you should try to rest."
"Yes, you should rest too, Marie," Eira nodded, watching as the maid left the room, blowing out the candle and plunging the space back into darkness.
Lying in bed, Eira found sleep elusive. The vivid dream and the unfamiliar name continued to haunt her, the growing sense of foreboding refusing to let her rest. Outside, the night was deep and still, the distant hoot of an owl adding to the eerie atmosphere.
Eira did not know what fate awaited her, but she had a feeling that some things were simply destined, from the very beginning.