Arthea stood alone on the balcony, the cold stone beneath her hands grounding her as the night sky stretched endlessly above. The stars shimmered faintly, their distant light igniting a hollow ache in her chest. She closed her eyes and, for a moment, let herself remember—a young Sara, her laughter bright, her small hand gripping hers tightly. "Mother," Sara had called her then, her voice filled with love. Now, the word felt like a relic from another life.
The faint sound of footsteps pulled her from her reverie. She straightened, her voice steady despite the storm inside. "Call for Sara," she said to the servant standing nearby.
The message was delivered, and soon Sara appeared. She walked into the room with quiet grace, her movements deliberate and controlled. Her expression betrayed nothing, though the distance in her eyes felt like a blade.
"What do you need, my queen?" Sara asked, her tone polite but detached.
Arthea flinched, though she masked it quickly. She drew a deep breath and looked at her daughter. "What must I do," she asked softly, "for you to forgive me?"
Sara's expression didn't change, but her hands tightened at her sides. "End the war," she said simply.
The words hung heavy between them, and for a moment, Arthea couldn't speak. The stars seemed to dim, the night pressing down on her shoulders.
"So, you won't," Sara said finally, her voice sharper now.
"It's not that simple," Arthea murmured, turning her gaze back to the stars.
"Why not?" Sara's voice cracked, the carefully constructed wall of indifference beginning to crumble. "Why can't you just end it? What's stopping you?"
Arthea turned slowly to face her daughter. Her hands trembled slightly as she pressed them against the balcony's edge. "You don't understand," she said, her voice barely audible. "You don't know what this war has done to me."
Sara frowned, confusion flickering across her face. "What are you talking about?"
The queen's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Do you ever wonder what happened to your father?" she asked quietly.
Sara hesitated. The question, spoken so plainly, startled her. "No," she admitted, her voice uncertain. "You never told me."
Arthea's breath caught, her chest rising and falling as if she were struggling to hold herself together. "It was our wedding day," she began, her voice trembling. "The happiest day of my life—or so I thought."
Sara watched as her mother's expression twisted, the pain etched into every line of her face.
"King Chil attacked us," Arthea continued, her voice raw. "The celebration turned to chaos in an instant. I remember the screams, the blood… Your father's blood." Her hands gripped the balcony railing so tightly her knuckles turned white. "They captured me, Sara. Chil didn't just kill your father. He made me his prisoner."
Arthea's words faltered, and her gaze dropped to the floor. "Every day, he forced me to look at your father's body, left rotting in the place where he fell. And when I thought it couldn't get worse…" Her voice broke. "He fed me pieces of your father's flesh. He made me drink his blood."
Sara's breath hitched, her face pale as her mother's words sank in. "No… no, that can't be true…"
Arthea's eyes met Sara's, hollow and unflinching. "It is," she said. "That war didn't just take your father. It took my soul, my dignity, everything I was. Ending it would mean letting them win. Letting him win."
For a long moment, neither spoke. The silence was heavy, filled only with the faint rustle of the wind.
Then Arthea spoke again, her voice softer, more fragile. "But… you are the only person I care about. If ending this war is what it takes to protect you, then I will end it."
Sara stared at her mother, her mind reeling. The queen—always so strong, so untouchable—now stood before her, raw and broken. Her voice wavered when she finally spoke. "I—" she started, but no words came.
Far across the kingdom, King Chil paced the throne room, his eyes glinting with cold calculation. "Agro," he called, his voice sharp.
A tall figure stepped forward, his presence commanding even in the dim light. "You summoned me," Agro said.
Chil's lips curled into a cruel smile. "I want you to kill Arthea."
Agro's expression remained stoic, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes. "It will be done," he said simply, turning on his heel.
Chil watched as Agro disappeared into the shadows, his smile widening. "Soon," he murmured, "her kingdom will fall.