Chapter 4: The Abandoned Prince
While Zeus whisked Hella and Diana away to their hidden sanctuary, the story of Seraphim, Hella's second child, unfolded within the walls of the palace. The young boy, innocent and unaware of the turmoil that raged around him, was left behind in the hands of those who sought to use him for their own gain.
Seraphim, barely an infant, had been kept under close watch in the royal nursery. The King's obsession with his children's origins had deepened after the tragic events of that night—the night the King's wrath had been turned back by Zeus. As the King lay lifeless, struck by Zeus's divine power, a shadowy figure from within the palace harbored ambitions of seizing the throne for himself.
The King's younger brother, Prince Varek, was a man driven by greed and power. A man who had always felt overshadowed by the King, he now saw his opportunity to take the throne for himself. The King's death had left the kingdom in a state of disarray, but what Varek saw in the chaos was a chance to claim power.
He knew the throne was rightfully his, should the royal bloodline be extinguished. With Queen Hella and her daughter, Diana, safely out of reach, only Seraphim remained, the young son who was still too fragile to defend himself against the treachery of men.
One dark, stormy night, when the palace was cloaked in shadows and the moonlight was hidden behind thick clouds, Varek made his move. The whispers of a growing rebellion filled the air, and the pressure to act weighed heavily on his shoulders. With silent steps, he crept into the nursery where Seraphim slept, unaware of the danger that lurked.
The baby boy lay swaddled in fine silk, his tiny chest rising and falling in peaceful slumber. Varek, his heart pounding with greed and determination, approached the cradle. He looked down at the child, a strange mixture of hatred and pity flashing in his eyes. This innocent child, he thought, stood between him and the throne.
With a swift, practiced motion, Varek scooped up the baby and wrapped him in a dark cloak, careful to stifle any noise. He moved quickly through the cold halls of the palace, heading for the secret exit that led to the cliffs by the ocean. The salty wind howled in the distance, and the crashing of waves against the rocks below echoed in his ears.
Varek, his heart hardening as he neared the cliff's edge, knew what he had to do. With a final glance at the baby in his arms, he stepped up to the precipice, preparing to cast the child into the unforgiving sea below. It was the only way, he reasoned—Seraphim would be lost to the ocean, and no one would ever know of his existence. The throne would be his.
But as Varek prepared to release the boy into the cold embrace of the sea, a pair of eyes watched from the shadows. The mistress of the palace, a woman of beauty and cunning, had been Varek's secret lover for years. Though she had no love for Seraphim, her loyalty to him had not been born of affection, but out of her own personal desires. She had learned of Varek's intentions long ago, and she knew that the child was meant to be sacrificed to secure his power.
Hidden in the darkened alcove, the mistress held her breath, her heart racing as she watched Varek's cruel plan unfold. She knew that, if left unchecked, Varek's reign would be one of bloodshed and fear. Her loyalties, however, were not to the kingdom—but to herself, and to the child she could use to her advantage.
Just as Varek raised his arms to release Seraphim, a voice called out from the darkness. "Stop!" The words were sharp, commanding. Varek froze in his tracks, his heart racing with the realization that he was no longer alone.
The mistress stepped into the dim light, her eyes glinting with a cold resolve. "You don't have to do this," she said softly, though her voice was filled with venom. "If you kill the boy, all is lost for you. Do you think I would ever stand by and let you take the throne so easily?"
Varek turned to face her, eyes narrowing. His plan was ruined, but his anger flared. "You always were a woman of intrigue," he spat. "What do you want from me?"
The mistress smiled, a thin, calculating smile. "What I want is for you to leave the child with me. You may rule as you see fit, but not over Seraphim. If you truly wish to rule, I will make sure the boy is lost to the world... but not in the sea. No, I will take him, and I will raise him, far away from here."
Varek hesitated, his eyes flickering between the mistress and the child. His mind raced, torn between his desire for the throne and his wariness of the woman before him. But in the end, his ambition won out. He knew that, with Seraphim out of the picture, there would be no threat to his rule. "Do as you wish," he muttered, throwing the baby into her arms.
The mistress, without another word, took the child from his hands and turned, disappearing into the shadows. Varek, his heart still pounding, moved away from the cliff's edge, his mind already focused on the throne. The child's fate had been sealed, and with it, his future had been assured.
Far below the cliffs, the mistress fled into the night, the baby cradled in her arms. She had saved him—Seraphim, the boy who was the last link to the royal bloodline, now had a future. But it would be a future far from the palace and the kingdom he was born into.
As the storm continued to rage around her, the mistress ran, her eyes set on a new life for Seraphim, far from the treacherous politics of the palace