The Price of Blood

The queen's screams echoed through the stone halls of Ravenshade Keep, a wail of agony and defiance that sent shudders through those who dared to listen. The torches lining the corridors burned low, casting flickering shadows as servants rushed about, whispering prayers under their breath.

Outside the birthing chamber, King Edric Ravenshade stood motionless, his jaw clenched, his dark eyes fixed on the heavy wooden doors barring him from the storm within. He was a man of war, a man who had carved his kingdom with blood and steel, yet now, he faced a choice that even he hesitated to make.

A choice between a wife and an heir.

The royal physician emerged at last, his face pale, his hands trembling. "Your Majesty… the queen is fading. The child—" he hesitated, eyes darting toward the ground. "The child is strong, but… it must be one or the other."

The king's gaze hardened. "Save the boy."

The words sealed a fate.

Within the chamber, Queen Isolde gasped, her strength slipping away, yet her violet eyes burned with fury. She had always known what kind of man she had married. And as the pain swallowed her whole, she whispered a final curse—not for the son she would never hold, but for the daughter she would leave behind.

A daughter born with her power.

A daughter who would burn the world one day.

And as the cries of a newborn baby boy filled the air, somewhere in the shadows of the castle, another child—her second born, her forgotten one—watched with wide, unblinking eyes, knowing without being told that her mother was never coming back.

That night, Princess Lysara Ravenshade lost more than a mother.

She lost the last person who might have loved her.

And in that void, something new was born. A hunger. A fury.

A fire waiting to rise.