The echoes of the Queen's roar for Hunter's head had barely faded in the grand hall before she retreated to the oppressive chill of her private sanctum.
BANG. The massive doors slammed shut, severing the panicked gazes of the courtiers outside. The Queen's brow was knit in a tight, jagged line, her anxiety barely contained. Her heavy royal boots struck the cold marble floor in a staccato of erratic, restless steps. She paced the length of the opulent room like a caged predator; with every sharp turn, her crimson cloak whipped through the air in an arc of lethal agitation.
"Hehehe..."
A ripple of contemptuous laughter shattered the silence. Deep within the room, from the surface of the eldritch silver mirror, the reflected Queen watched her, gracefully stroking the glass with eyes full of mockery.
"What is this? My dear sister, are we feeling a bit unsettled?" The woman in the mirror laughed until her shoulders shook, a tear of pure delight pricking the corner of her eye. "Your schemes exposed... even your most loyal hound has turned to bite the hand that fed him. Tell me, is your chessboard finally running out of pieces?"
She leaned closer, pressing her face against the silver surface, her tone shifting into something saccharine and falsely pious. "Why not just give up? No one blames a loser who has reached the end of her rope. If you get down on your knees and beg, I might even find it in my heart to be merciful."
The Queen came to a dead stop. She cut her gaze toward the mirror, her crimson eyes flashing like daggers.
"Hmph. You think a clumsy betrayal like this leaves me helpless?" Her voice was bone-chilling, vibrating with haughty disdain. "Hunter was nothing but a pawn to be sacrificed. And this game? This game has only just reached its killing blow."
She reached into the void, and with a swift motion, a scepter manifested in her palm. It was carved from solid obsidian and etched with ancient, dark-red runes that writhed and pulsed in the dim light, as if the wood itself were breathing.
She strode toward the balcony, where a small sparrow had just alighted softly upon the stone balustrade.
"Tsk, tsk. That failed sacrificial ritual must have drained quite a bit of your essence, didn't it?" The Mirror Queen shook her head, her sigh dripping with theatrical pity. "In such a weakened state, what exactly do you hope to accomplish?"
The Queen ignored the acid-tongued provocation. She drew a blood-red gemstone from her robes and, with practiced precision, slotted it into the empty notch at the scepter's tip. As the stone clicked into place, the entire staff emitted a low, resonant thrum.
"Still relying on soul-stones to store your mana?" The woman in the glass let out a dismissive snicker. "No wonder your reserves are always so... pathetic."
The Queen remained silent. She closed her eyes slightly, her lips forming the distorted, obsidian syllables of an ancient incantation. The tone belonged to no living tongue; it was a low, churning sound, like the bubbling of a sunless mire in the deepest abyss.
Abruptly, a burst of eldritch red light erupted from the scepter. It didn't flicker like fire; it flowed like living ichor, surging forward to envelop the unsuspecting sparrow.
The bird's shrill cry was instantly drowned by the sickening sound of snapping bone and bulging muscle. Within the crimson mist, the sparrow's body twisted and expanded at a terrifying speed. Its once-light feathers turned as black as a moonless night, their edges gleaming with a cold, metallic luster. Its wings unfurled violently, spanning the width of a grown man, each beat kicking up a gale of wind that smelled of rot and decay. The delicate talons warped into soul-reaping scythes, and its beak became encased in a layer of heavy, dark crystal.
What had been a fragile creature seconds ago was now a monstrous beast from the underworld.
The Queen reached out with a touch of melancholy, stroking the bird's cold, armored wing. The savage beast let out a low, submissive croon, leaning its head into her palm with haunting devotion.
"I'm counting on you." The Queen's gaze pierced through the heavy clouds. "Go. Find Lunethia, and bring her back to me!"
A burst of crimson light exploded in the magic bird's eyes as it let out a shriek that seemed to fracture the very sky. With a violent beat of its massive wings, the resulting gale shattered the potted plants upon the balcony into dust. A black silhouette, like a bolt of dark lightning, tore through the night sky.
In the mirror, the Mirror Queen finally stopped laughing. Her expression darkened, and she spat toward the glass with pure disdain. "Hah! My poor, deluded sister. No matter how many assassins you dispatch, or how many magical abominations you craft, you cannot lay a single finger on that child! She is the one destined to liberate me... it is written in the very gears of fate!"
The Queen turned her back on the ominous glass, her features dissolving into the deepening shadows of her chambers.
"I will crush your 'destiny' with my own hands," she said, her voice low and unwavering, echoing through the hollow room. "Stay in your world of illusions, sister, and watch as I tear her heart from her chest."
The Forest Village
Inside the cottage, the atmosphere had reached a breaking point. Rhine lunged forward, seizing Lunethia by the collar. His piercing gaze was like a physical blade as he loomed over her, his voice a thundering roar of fury.
"Talk! Why do you have Hunter's dagger?! What is your connection to that blood-moon hound!?"
Lunethia was jerked closer, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard it was painful. Her entire body went rigid, her voice a fragile tremor. "I... I..."
Rhine gnashed his teeth, his knuckles turning white as he tightened his grip on her collar. "Speak! This blade is Hunter's soul—he would never hand it to a stranger!"
Terrified by the raw aggression in his voice, Lunethia shrank back, her head bowing as she tried to pull herself into a ball of safety.
Just as the tension reached a lethal peak, Rena stepped in. She moved with practiced speed, prying Rhine's hand away. "Enough! You're terrifying her—how is she supposed to answer like that?" She shoved Rhine back with considerable force, her eyes resolute yet her tone remaining measured.
Rhine glared at her, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, his fingers still twitching with suppressed rage. Karl quickly moved to his side, placing a steadying hand on Rhine's shoulder. "Easy now," he whispered. "Calm yourself."
Rhine gnashed his teeth, his tongue pressing hard against the roof of his mouth. He snatched a nearby chair, slammed it down, and sat with his arms locked tightly across his chest, the embers of his rage still glowing in his eyes.
Rena held Lunethia's hands, her voice softening into a soothing melody. "Take a breath. Rhine has a temper like a forest fire, but he isn't a monster. You're safe here. Now, come... tell us. How did you come to possess that dagger?"
Rena's warmth acted as a thin anchor for Lunethia. She swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she finally spoke. "It... it was given to me by Uncle Hunter."
Rhine's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He practically levitated from his seat. "Uncle?! So you're his kin? You're part of his bloodline!?"
Rena shot him a blistering glare. Caught in her crosshairs, Rhine could only click his tongue in frustration and sink back into his chair, though his entire frame remained as taut as a bowstring.
Karl leaned forward, his brow furrowed in deep thought. "From what my intelligence suggests, Hunter has no living family. Why do you call him 'Uncle'? And why on earth would he surrender his primary weapon to you?"
Lunethia lowered her gaze, unable to meet the piercing scrutiny of the two men.
Rena gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "You can tell us the truth, Lunethia. I promise you, no harm will come to you in this house."
Lunethia drew a jagged breath and slowly lifted her head. Her voice was faint, yet it carried a strange, desperate weight. "I... Uncle Hunter... he was supposed to kill me."
Karl's frown deepened, his mind racing to connect the dots. "He was supposed to kill you? And yet, he gave you his blade?"
Lunethia shook her head, tears shimmering in the corners of her eyes. "No... he was acting on the Queen's direct command to take my life. But... he decided to let me escape instead. He gave me the dagger so I could protect myself."
"The Queen wanted you dead?" Rena's voice rose in disbelief. "Why? Why would the Crown want the life of someone like you?"
Lunethia let her eyelids fall, her frail shoulders trembling under the weight of the question. She lapsed into a long, suffocating silence.
Rena gazed at her, her voice softening further, though it carried a guiding edge. "Lunethia... if you truly want us to extend a helping hand, you must at least give us a reason to believe in you."
Lunethia bit her bloodless lip, her fingernails digging deep into her palms. For a long, agonizing moment, it seemed she was wrestling with a final, desperate resolve. When she finally spoke, her voice was as thin as silk, yet every word was crystal clear.
"...The truth is... I am the Princess of the Lunaris Kingdom. I am Lunethia Virselis."
The air in the room seemed to flash-freeze. Even the nightly chirping of insects in the surrounding woods fell into a sudden, eerie silence.
"You're the Princess!?" Karl's eyes widened in genuine shock, a rare exclamation escaping his lips. "Then why in the world would Hunter, the Kingdom's premier executioner, be sent to hunt you?"
Rhine's gaze turned instantly lethal, sharp as a blade drawn from its sheath. Without a second's hesitation, he snatched a paring knife from the table, his intent murderous. "If she truly is the Princess of that wretched nation, then she is our mortal enemy! Kill her now, and be done with it!"
"Cool your head, Rhine!" Karl reacted with lightning speed, his hand clamping down like an iron vice onto Rhine's wrist. "Assess the situation first!" he barked. "If she's lying, she's just a pathetic pretender. But if she's telling the truth... then we have a much larger question—why would the Queen of Lunaris send an assassin after her own flesh and blood?"
Lunethia's eyes welled with unshed tears, her voice rasping with suppressed emotion. "...I don't know... but before we parted, Uncle Hunter told me that my mother's behavior had become... unsettling. Bizarre. He suspected that... that the real Queen might have been replaced. That is why the 'Queen' is so desperate to eliminate me."
Rena's eyes burned with a piercing light as she locked onto the girl's face. "Are you suggesting that the one currently occupying the throne... might be an impostor?"
Lunethia clenched her jaw and gave a heavy, determined nod. "Whatever the reason, I refuse to believe that my mother—the kind, loving woman I knew—could truly want me dead!"
Rena lapsed into a pensive silence, her gaze drifting between the girl and Rhine. Rhine, however, remained a wall of frost. He let out a dismissive, guttural snort. "Words are cheap! Can you prove who you are? Where is your evidence?"
Lunethia let out a bitter, hollow laugh, shaking her head weakly. "...I have none. My escape from the palace was too frantic... I couldn't bring anything with me."
"Hah! If you can't prove it, don't blame me for being heartless!" The veins at Rhine's temples throbbed as he took a predatory step forward, his voice low and dangerous. "Whether she's real or a fake, as long as she carries that royal blood, she deserves to die. Kill one, and there's one less plague on this world!"
Karl stepped firmly between them, blocking Rhine's path. Those eyes, usually so mild, were now flashing with a seasoned, predatory sharpness. "Hold your hand, Rhine... if she truly is that Princess, then this might be the golden opportunity we've been waiting for."
Rhine's brow furrowed into a tight knot, his tone harsh. "Opportunity? What kind of opportunity is a marked Princess?"
Karl leaned in, lowering his voice to a tone that was chillingly pragmatic. "Use your head. If we rally the loyalists of Lunaris in her name—if we expose the truth that the woman on the throne is likely an impostor—the traditionalists and the disenfranchised will rise up against the current regime. While the Kingdom is cannibalizing itself in civil war, we strike. We coordinate with our hidden cells within the capital and tear the throne down once and for all!"
Rhine fell silent for a moment. Though the hatred in his heart hadn't dimmed, his logic couldn't deny the allure of such a plan. He merely offered a final, cold huff. "The plan sounds fine on paper, but execution is never that simple."
Karl offered a faint, enigmatic smile, his eyes depthless with calculation. "Of course, it won't be simple. We'll need coordination from the Southern Resistance. But the linchpin of the entire plan is finding a way to fracture the Kingdom's border guard. Once their own ranks fall into disarray, our odds of victory will double."
Rhine stared at Lunethia for a long, agonizing silence, his expression grim. Finally, he shot Karl a resentful glare before sheathing his blade with a sharp, metallic click. "...Fine. We'll do it your way for now. But if this girl shows even a hint of treachery, I'll end her without a second thought."
Lunethia clenched her fists until her nails drew blood from her palms. Her heart hammered against her ribs as if trying to shatter her chest. Only days ago, she had been a carefree princess in a palace garden; now, she was a mere bargaining chip at the heart of a bloody political tempest.
Whatever it took... she had to survive.
As the group continued to hammer out the details of their grim alliance, the heavy wooden door was suddenly thrown open with a violent thud.
A villager burst into the room, his face flushed a frantic crimson from sprinting. Gasping for air and barely pausing to offer a respectful bow to Rhine, he shouted:
"Prince! Crisis! Our scouts just sent word—a massive magic beast, a bird of prey, has been sighted on the horizon. It bears the mark of the Kingdom's sorcery. Based on its flight path, it will be over this sector within the hour!"
"Prince?" Lunethia froze. The word sent a crack through her already frayed nerves. Bewildered, she looked instinctively toward Rhine—the abrasive, foul-tempered youth who seemed more like a common bandit than royalty.
Karl's expression darkened instantly. He began to pace the floor, his voice dropping into a tense, analytical register. "Aerial magic beasts are a nightmare. They have superior vision and terrifying speed. If we send a decoy, they'll be slaughtered in this open terrain. But if we do nothing and our location is compromised, we'll have the entire Royal Army at our gates by dawn."
Rhine let out a cold snort, a wild, arrogant smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He reached out, expertly snagging his longblade and resting it across his shoulders with a sharp clack.
"Hmph. It's just a heap of feathers and bone. What's there to hesitate about?" He scanned the room, his voice ringing with the undeniable authority of a commander. "All seven of us are here today—it's the perfect time to christen our blades. Let's slaughter the damn thing together!"
Karl let out a weary sigh. Although he felt the risk was substantial, he nodded slowly in agreement. "Very well. But we cannot engage near the village; the collateral damage would be catastrophic. We move to the southern woods. The canopy is dense enough to restrict the movements of a large aerial beast. We'll have the terrain on our side."
Just as the group prepared to mobilize, Milia raised a slender finger, pointing weakly toward a dark corner of the room.
"But... Gerald is still sleeping."
Every eye in the room shifted to the corner. There, the dark-haired, middle-aged man sat leaning against the cold stone wall. His breathing was rhythmic and peaceful, his expression so serene one would think he was drifting through a field of spring flowers, utterly untouched by the surrounding chaos and killing intent.
Gareth walked over and gave him a reluctant nudge. "That's strange... based on his usual cycle, he should have been awake days ago."
Gerald offered no reaction. Instead, as if annoyed by the interruption, he smacked his lips and delved even deeper into his slumber.
Rena, who had already finished a practiced inspection of her spear's edge, spoke up with a flat, clinical tone. "We aren't waiting. Owen, you're on duty. Sling him onto your back and bring him to the battlefield."
"If we leave him behind and he wakes up in a daze, who knows which mountain peak he'll wander off to this time."
Owen, who was already hauling a war hammer weighing over a hundred pounds, stiffened. His face was a picture of pure protest. "What?! Why me again? Gareth is standing right there doing nothing—make him do it!"
Gareth rolled his eyes, patting the bulging alchemy pouches and side-arms strapped to his waist. "I'm carrying half a laboratory's worth of combat tools. I'm booked. You? You've only got that one hammer to worry about."
Owen continued to mutter under his breath, his face a picture of stubborn indignation. "Well... what about Rena and Milia? They could—"
Rena turned her head slowly. A brilliant, radiant smile graced her lips—a smile so dazzling it sent a genuine chill down Owen's spine.
"Pardon?" her voice was soft, melodic, yet vibrating with a lethal undertone. "Are you suggesting that we two 'frail' ladies should be the ones to haul a full-grown, hulking man across the woods?"
Owen shrank into his shoulders, his voice barely audible. "Frail? You've got more raw strength than a mountain gorilla—"
"What was that?" Rena's eyebrow arched, and her spear emitted a sharp, resonant thrum as she tightened her grip.
"Nothing! Nothing at all! I didn't say a word!" Owen's survival instinct kicked into high gear. He shook his head frantically, gritted his teeth, and hoisted Gerald onto his shoulder like a sack of grain. Without looking back, he bolted out of the cottage as if his boots were on fire.
The rest of the group followed in quick succession, leaving the once-crowded room suddenly hollow and quiet.
Lunethia watched this surreal scene unfold, her voice hesitating as she spoke. "Um... Gerald... he's still fast asleep. Is it really... wise to bring a sleeping man to a battlefield?"
Rena paused at the threshold and looked back, offering the shaken princess a meaningful, cryptic smile.
"That..." she said, giving Lunethia's shoulder a reassuring pat, "is a bit complicated to explain. But don't you worry. That man—even in his dreams—can kill."
With that, Rena's silhouette vanished through the doorway.
The sound of retreating footsteps grew faint, and the clamor died away. Lunethia remained slumped in her chair, her mouth slightly agape. The "But..." she hadn't managed to voice was cut short by the soft click of the closing door.
Only she remained. This sudden, heavy silence brought with it a sense of strangeness and unease unlike anything she had ever felt before.
Lunethia pushed open the door and stepped outside.
The clearing outside the cottage was already a scene of frantic activity. Villagers were hurrying to heave grain sacks, wooden crates, and household essentials onto horse-drawn wagons. Children were clutched tightly in their parents' arms, while several horses stomped their hooves restlessly, their whinnies cutting through the heavy, suffocating tension that blanketed the air.
Stunned by the sight, she approached a man who had just finished loading a cart.
"Excuse me... why is everyone in such a panic?"
The villager looked back at her, appearing momentarily surprised by her presence.
"Haven't you heard? The scouts reported a magic beast—a giant bird—flying straight toward us."
He patted a crate on the wagon and hurriedly tightened the ropes.
"That's a monster we're talking about! Even if the Boss and his crew can handle it, us regular folk have to be ready to run for our lives if things go south."
Without another word, he hurried off to gather more supplies.
Lunethia stood frozen in place, whispering to herself.
"A magic beast..."
She lifted her gaze toward the distant forest. The sea of trees was eerily still, offering no sound but the soft, rhythmic rustle of leaves dancing in the wind.
The villagers were terrified. If that was the case—then this "monster" must be a truly horrific entity.
As the thought took hold, her gaze lingered on the deepening shadows of the woods. Somewhere in that darkness, Rhine and the others were moving toward the front lines.
A flicker of worry, so faint she hadn't even recognized it yet, quietly surfaced in her heart.