Selandriz, Heart of the Western Kingdom
The stone corridors of the palace lay drenched in silence, bathed in the flickering light of torches and candles. The faint moans seeping from the king's chambers were the only sounds that broke the oppressive stillness between the guards and handmaidens. Asha, a young woman hardened by the weight of a life she had no choice but to endure, moved through the cold, lifeless walls, resigned to the cruel games of fate.
The king, though four years shy of fifty, bore the look of a man who had been ravaged by decades in death's grasp. His bones shattered at the slightest strain, his skin peeled and flaked, and he could scarcely stand without aid. Asha, once a pawn in the schemes of the king and his sister, had become a woman who carved her path beneath the shadow of pride and ambition. Love had no place in her heart—how could it? The man who had first claimed her by force was her father, the same man she was compelled to call her husband. Life had forged Asha into a cunning survivor—a mother who understood that her children were her lifeline in this merciless game.
Three children of the king's blood clung to her existence: twin daughters and two younger sons. They were her shield, her weapon, her reason to persist. That night, the king once again took her body with a grotesque desire, a burden she bore in cold silence. When he finally collapsed into a deep slumber, his weight sagging into the vast expanse of his gilded bed, Asha left the room without a word, her eyes void of emotion.
In her chambers, four maids awaited her, ready to cleanse her of the night's defilement. But Asha, her voice barely a whisper, dismissed them all. Left alone, she sank into a steaming bath, clutching her knees to her chest. She wept—not for her body but for her soul, which had been burned to ash in the fires of the cursed palace.
At dawn, the silver waves of the Western Bright Sea crashed against the rocky cliffs below the palace. The sunlight gilded the waters, turning the white foam into shimmering pearls. The salty morning breeze swept through the crags, a fleeting reminder of freedom. On the stony shores, three royal children—Zyke and Luiz, along with the bastard child Alyn San—played under the watchful eyes of their tutors.
Nearby, Alyn's older sister, Alyk Ayreen, stood with a haughty pride that mirrored her mother's ambition. Alyn, with his curly black hair and piercing brown eyes, was swift and eager in mastering his lessons, unlike Zyke and Luiz, who showed little interest in such pursuits. Of course, Luiz, being only four, could hardly be expected to care.
Asha, the Cursed Princess, had borne her first children—the twin girls Elynna and Elinndra—at the tender age of fifteen. The crimson hue of Asha's irises, which had spread across her eyes like flames over time, earned her the title "The Bloodsucker Princess."
In a kingdom steeped in superstition, the curse that haunted her had drawn countless soothsayers and astrologers to the court. Finally, Ladilios, the historian-prophet, declared that the only way to lift Asha's curse was for her to lie with the king upon reaching maturity. The prophecy tore the kingdom apart. Prince Alexander, Asha's brother, clashed with their father repeatedly. Their mother, Eldrynna, though silently acquiescent, sank into despair, her thoughts often straying to suicide. Madness crept into her mind.
Amid this turmoil, Alyza and Lord Vern seized control of the court, moving King Azden like a pawn on their chessboard. By the time Alyza bore her first bastard child, she had cunningly secured its recognition as a legitimate Ayreen in the royal lineage. This act forced the king to name Alyk Ayreen as his heir, demoting Prince Danzen Ayreen to second in line. The move stoked Asha's fury—a fury that only deepened when she bore the king's first pure-blooded son, forever altering the balance of power.
Elynna and Elinndra, the twin daughters of Asha, were lauded for their beauty—bright blue eyes and raven-black hair that poets celebrated and painters clamored to immortalize. But Asha's power lay not in their beauty alone. Over the years, she cemented her position by giving birth to two more sons. Now, at twenty-two, Asha was more than a mother or a survivor. She was a strategist, a key player in the kingdom's political landscape. She had earned the king's trust and, with calculated precision, usurped Alyza's place in his court.
But it was not enough. Asha desired Alyza's complete destruction, for she held her aunt responsible for the torment she had endured.
As sunlight streamed into her chambers, Asha awoke to the sound of her maid, Yitti, drawing back the heavy curtains. Her crimson eyes, weary and hollow, flickered open. "Mother Goddess, my princess!" Yitti gasped. "You've been here all night?"
Asha rose from the cooling bath without answering, reached for a golden goblet of wine, and drained it in silence. Her silver hair, cascading like a molten waterfall, shimmered in the morning light, while her ruby eyes gleamed like cursed jewels. Yitti forced a smile. "What gown shall I prepare for you today, my princess? The king has ordered you to wear your finest."
But Asha, staring out the window, knew today was just another move in the unending game of power—one she would play to its bitter end. Yitti, growing weary of the silence, continued, "It was a hard night for you, my princess. I've prepared your breakfast with great care; it will arrive soon. The entire palace is still celebrating. The king's strength, though faltering, remains."
A wave of disgust and hatred swept over Asha, yet she merely smiled faintly and murmured, "Indeed." She then donned a thin, white undergarment and let her long, silver hair cascade from beneath it, draping over her shoulders. After a moment of inner struggle, she finally asked, "Has my brother arrived?"
Yitti replied, "Not yet, my princess. But he sent a letter. He'll be here by tonight for the twins' birthday celebration." After recent events, Alexander could no longer bear the confines of the golden cage that was their palace. He spent most of his time traveling, managing the family's foreign affairs. Even when he was in Selandriz, he always found ways to avoid staying within the palace.
Asha recalled the date and realized what day it was. With Yitti's help, she dressed in an elegant, gold-embroidered white gown and stood before the mirror, allowing Yitti to fasten the back of the dress.
At that moment, the door opened, and her two beautiful daughters ran to her, embracing her with youthful energy. "Mother, Father said we can have green fish at the feast!" one of them exclaimed. Asha hesitated briefly before responding, "Oh, is that so? I'm afraid green fish will not be served at your ceremony. Your father merely said that to please you."
Green fish, a rare catch from the Eastern Sea, was a delicacy revered in the West. Its shimmering green scales and soft, black flesh made it irresistible to many. Consuming half of it could intoxicate a person, and more would drive them to madness. After the Eastern drought, this fish had become even rarer. At the Ayreen court, even red and golden wine was not served at formal gatherings, let alone green fish.
One of the girls, persistently, said, "But mother! I asked him myself!" Asha, who had never truly shown maternal love to her children, especially Elynna and Elinndra, found gazing at them a painful reminder of the torment she had endured since their birth. While she had no love to give, she also refrained from expressing hatred. She placed a hand on their heads and gave a hollow smile. "Yitti, take the girls. Wash them well, braid their hair. They mustn't look so disheveled."
Without a word, Yitti took the girls' hands and led them out of the room. Elynna and Elinndra, despite their young age, knew better than to linger around their mother. Three years ago, when Elynna had complained about Elinndra to their mother, Asha had beaten her to the brink of death. Had Yitti and the palace guards not intervened in time, only one of the twins might have survived.
As the golden sunlight of Selandriz slowly began to fade, the palace was abuzz with preparations for the twins' birthday celebration. Asha, accompanied by two handmaidens, left her chambers and walked toward the king's quarters. She knew these stone corridors by heart—the grooves and inscriptions in the Western tongue, the carvings that were remnants of House Kiyang, a reminder of past kings' artistry...
but she could never shake the unease that crept up her spine when passing certain shattered carvings. It was as though the very walls were calling to her, whispering forgotten truths.
After knocking and receiving permission, she entered. The flickering candlelight illuminated the room, casting the beautiful frescoes on the walls in a warm, amber glow. The carvings of dancing women, lilies, bees, and olive branches—symbols of the Ayreen family—decorated the walls with an air of serene beauty. King Azden, the aging monarch, sat slouched in his chair as his personal barber worked on trimming his beard. He smiled and said, "Come here, my dear. You look beautiful."
Her father's voice always stirred a sickening feeling in Asha. For the thousandth time, she cursed her family for all the suffering they had inflicted upon her. She forced a dry smile and glanced at him with her bloodshot, half-blind eyes. Even with her limited vision, she could sense the barber's fear. Everyone avoided looking into her crimson eyes. The barber, without glancing at Asha, bowed awkwardly and resumed his work.
Asha spoke flatly, "You summoned me, my lord?" Azden, irritated by the barber's mistake, grumbled, "Ugh... What's wrong with you, man? Be careful! You've cut me!" He muttered angrily, "If you're not more careful, I'll have your nose removed from your face!" The barber, terrified, quickly apologized. "My sincerest apologies, my lord."
Azden had grown more irritable with age, his hands trembling due to a strange affliction. Asha stared at the blood trickling down his face and murmured to herself, I want more than that. I want a lake of your blood, My King.
The king continued, oblivious to her inner turmoil, "Tonight, we have important guests. The eldest son of the King of the North from Aytarem, along with your brother, will join us. House Ladell from Lonamore and House Kwasii from Bobview will also be present. I think it's time to find a suitable match for you. Your marriage is now a necessity."
Asha tuned out her father's voice, her head spinning. She clenched her gown in her fists, grinding her teeth. Though she had spent her entire life attempting to escape this golden cage, now that she was so close to the crown, she knew she could never leave. Azden, oblivious, carried on, "Alyza and your mother believe an alliance with House Arenar could prove beneficial. Though House Ladell is also a good option. But Elwin Ladell... no, he's not right for you. Your brother says House Arenar has managed to tame the snow bears again. With this marriage, we could use them to harvest the soft stones. Winter is near, and felling trees isn't practical. We don't want to face the same water shortage the East experienced."
He laughed, adding, "Besides, if the rumors are true and the northern families still have dragon eggs, it could work greatly in our favor. We must be cautious these days. There are troubling messages from the East. If Triyej the Seventh falls, his eldest son will likely tear up the peace treaty. Everyone knows he's not like his father. He carries the blood of the Feergards in his veins."
Asha, with her sharp hearing, suddenly caught the sound of children's laughter from the harem. Using her keen senses, she quickly moved toward the noise, drawing back the curtains. Her four children were playing together. In a fit of rage, she marched toward them, slapping Zyke, shoving Luiz, and grabbing the hands of the two girls. "What are you two little mice doing here? Didn't I tell you to stay with Yitti?" she scolded.
Azden, his voice weary, attempted to calm her, "Asha, calm down. It's just a childish prank." Without listening, Asha responded, "My lord, allow me to handle the upbringing of my children. I also need time to consider your proposal. With your permission."
She gave a curt bow, handed the girls over to the handmaidens, and dragged Zyke and Luiz by their collars out of the room. The unlucky Alyn San, their twelve-year-old cousin, witnessed this scene. Now, more than fearing their mother, the two boys feared being ridiculed by him...