The Apple Kingdom no longer bore its name.
Ash blanketed the earth like a funeral shroud. Blackened trees clawed at the sky. What was once a kingdom of orchards and music now stood as a graveyard of charred stone and silence.
The Duchess stepped over the ruin, her shadow long beneath the crimson sunset. Her gown trailed through soot. She moved with sovereign purpose, her red-gold eyes aglow with ancient power.
But something itched beneath the ground.
She paused.
"You're afraid," she whispered to herself. But the voice was not hers—it belonged to Nicole, buried deep within, like a wounded ghost.
"No," the Duchess growled. "I am in control."
She descended what remained of the old castle's east wing, stone cracked and skeletal. The hallway led to a staircase she had forgotten existed. The deeper she went, the heavier the air grew. Shadows slithered like veins along the walls.
Then—she reached it.
A chamber sealed behind time-worn stone.
