Divura had become a name people whispered with admiration and a hint of envy. In the halls of the academy, her presence carried quiet authority. She did not try to stand out, yet she always did. Numbers bent easily to her will, and languages unfolded before her like doors waiting to be opened. While others struggled, she moved with calm precision, solving, translating, understanding.
Her instructors had long stopped hiding their pride. Students, however, were less generous. Some admired her, others resented her, but none could ignore her.
The inter-academy competition only confirmed what many already knew. Representatives from different institutions gathered, each confident in their best minds. Divura stood among them, composed, her expression unreadable.
When the results were announced, her name echoed across the hall.
First place.
A quiet murmur followed, swelling into applause. Divura simply inclined her head, accepting the recognition without celebration. This was not victory to her. It was expectation fulfilled.
The journey back to the academy was meant to be uneventful. The carriage moved steadily along the forest road, the evening sun casting long shadows across the path. The air was calm, almost too calm.
Then came the sound.
Steel clashing against steel. Shouts. The sharp cry of pain.
The driver halted the carriage abruptly. Divura's gaze shifted toward the source of the disturbance. Without waiting for instruction, she stepped down.
Not far ahead, a group of armed men surrounded a smaller escort. The attackers moved with ruthless coordination, their numbers overwhelming the guards who fought desperately to protect someone at the center.
Divura's eyes narrowed.
An ambush.
She did not hesitate.
Grabbing a fallen spear from the roadside, she moved forward with calculated speed. Her movements were swift and precise, not wild or reckless. She struck where it mattered, disarming one attacker, then another. Surprise rippled through the ambushers as the unexpected interference disrupted their formation.
One of the guards noticed her. "Who are you?"
"Not your enemy," she replied calmly, already moving to block a strike aimed at him.
The tide began to shift. Though still outnumbered, the defenders found space to breathe. Within moments, the attackers started to retreat, realizing the ambush was no longer in their favor.
Silence slowly replaced chaos.
At the center of the group stood a boy, no older than Divura, yet his presence was unmistakable. He was dressed simply, but the way the guards positioned themselves around him spoke of importance.
His eyes found her immediately.
He studied her as though trying to carve her image into memory.
"You," he said, stepping forward. "What is your name?"
Divura did not answer. She wiped the edge of the spear clean and dropped it to the ground.
"You saved us," he continued, his voice steady but curious. "At least tell me who you are."
For a brief moment, their eyes met. There was something searching in his gaze, something she did not care to understand.
"It does not matter," she said.
Then she turned and walked away.
The boy watched her leave, his expression unreadable, but his silence held weight. One of his guards approached cautiously.
"Should we follow her, my lord?"
He shook his head slowly. "No."
His gaze remained fixed on the path she had taken.
"Find out who she is."
Far away from the quiet forest road, within the grand palace of Auentia, another storm was unfolding.
The third queen stood in the inner courtyard, her posture composed, though her eyes carried a quiet sadness that never seemed to fade. Time had not been kind to her position. Once favored, she had slowly been pushed aside.
"Still wandering alone?" a voice came, sharp and mocking.
The new queen approached, adorned in luxury and arrogance. Her steps were deliberate, each one carrying the confidence of someone who knew she held power.
"You should be resting," the third queen said gently. "In your condition, it is not wise to strain yourself."
The new queen smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
"How kind of you," she replied. "But I wonder if your concern is genuine… or simply habit."
Before the third queen could respond, the new queen moved closer, invading her space.
"You failed this palace," she continued softly, her words cutting deeper than any shout. "One child, and nothing more. Tell me, how does it feel to be so easily replaced?"
The third queen's hands tightened slightly, but she remained silent.
The new queen's smile widened. Then suddenly, she staggered backward with a dramatic cry.
"My lord!"
The king had just entered the courtyard.
The new queen clutched her side, her expression twisted in feigned pain. "She pushed me," she said weakly. "She nearly made me fall. Does she not remember I carry your son?"
The king's face darkened instantly.
"What is the meaning of this?" his voice thundered.
The third queen's eyes widened in shock. "Your majesty, I did no such thing. I would never harm her, let alone your child."
"Enough!" the king snapped. "Must you add deceit to your list of failures?"
The words struck harder than any blow.
She lowered her gaze, her voice trembling despite her effort to remain composed. "I have served you faithfully. I have never—"
"You have given me nothing more to show for it," he interrupted coldly. "Do not test my patience further."
Silence fell.
The new queen leaned subtly into the king, her expression shifting instantly into one of fragile innocence.
At that moment, a servant rushed into the courtyard, breathless.
"Your majesty, the council awaits you in the throne room. It is urgent."
The king glanced once more at the third queen before turning away. "We will deal with this later."
He left without another word.
The third queen stood frozen, her heart heavy with a pain she could not voice. The courtyard felt colder, emptier.
As the king entered the throne room, tension filled the air. Ministers stood in uneasy silence, their faces etched with concern.
"Speak," the king commanded, taking his seat.
One of the generals stepped forward. "Your majesty, our forces on the eastern front are failing. We are losing ground."
Murmurs spread across the room.
"That is impossible," the king said sharply. "Our strategy was flawless."
A minister hesitated before speaking. "That is precisely the problem, your majesty. The enemy seems to know our plans before we act."
The room fell into a deeper silence.
"Are you suggesting betrayal?" the king asked, his voice dangerously low.
No one answered immediately.
Another minister finally spoke, his tone cautious. "We have reason to believe that someone within this court is feeding information to the opposing kingdom."
The king's grip tightened on the arm of his throne.
"Find them," he said coldly. "Whoever dares to betray this kingdom will wish they had died on the battlefield."
As the council continued, a figure lingered at the edge of the room, unnoticed.
A servant.
Or so it seemed.
His head remained lowered, but a faint smile touched his lips.
The game had already begun.