---
Luxria never slept.
Even now—beneath a velvet dusk—the capital shimmered with gilded towers and golden lies. Its marble halls echoed with the sound of polished boots and whispers sharp enough to wound.
At the heart of it all sat Queen Adana, dressed in silk the color of dried blood.
She stared into the basin again.
No shimmer this time.
No flicker of blue hair.
Just ripples and silence.
Her nails drummed against the carved rim, each tap a warning waiting to be spoken.
"So the little ghost walks again," she murmured. "Did you really think death would be enough to stop her, Walter?"
Her voice was quiet, but the venom in it curled like smoke.
Across the chamber, the doors creaked open.
Alice entered, dressed modestly in pale green, her long chestnut hair braided over one shoulder. At seventeen, she carried the quiet grace of someone born into power, but untouched by it.
"Mother," she said gently, offering a respectful bow. "You summoned me?"
Adana turned slowly.
Alice was everything Laraine hadn't been. Soft-spoken. Obedient. Untouched by scandal. Her daughter in name and breeding, but not in temperament.
"You were close to her," Adana said suddenly.
Alice blinked. "To… Laraine?"
"To the girl who betrayed us."
Alice stiffened. "She was my sister."
"No," Adana said. "She was a failed experiment. A child with too much fire and no leash."
Alice didn't respond.
She couldn't.
She remembered Laraine—brash, loud, always questioning the rules. She remembered the way her laughter filled the stables, the way her fists bled after training, the way she protected even servants who wronged her.
She also remembered the day they said she died.
And how no one—not even Father—mourned her properly.
"You've been listening to rumors," Adana said coolly, circling her like a vulture. "The whispers. The talk of a girl with Luxrian features fighting rebels in the south."
Alice's fingers tightened around her skirts.
"I hear everything," Adana continued. "Especially when House Vale, House Drennor, and House Mythis start calling secret councils without me."
"That's treason," Alice whispered.
"No," Adana said, smiling coldly. "That's the beginning of an opportunity. One I intend to crush."
She returned to the scrying basin and poured in a vial of violet liquid. Images rippled again—faint, unstable.
A woman in the forest.
A flicker of fire.
A disguised face.
And a blade Adana knew far too well.
"The Relic of the Forsaken Flame has awoken," she said. "A relic that should've been buried with her."
Alice's heart skipped.
"Laraine?"
Adana turned sharply. "Do not say her name."
Alice flinched but held her ground. "If she's alive, she's not our enemy."
"She always was."
"She was a child!" Alice snapped. "You pushed her too far. She was your daughter too—"
Adana raised her hand.
Silence slammed into the room like a spell.
Alice stood frozen as her mother's gaze darkened.
"Do not mistake your soft heart for wisdom, Alice," Adana said. "You are my heir. You will rule when I decide, not before. And you will not weep for dead girls who burned bridges behind them."
Alice lowered her eyes.
But inside her chest, a quiet rebellion stirred.
Because she'd heard the rumors too.
And if they were true—if Laraine was really alive…
Then she deserved to know.
---
Meanwhile, in the Tower of Councilors…
The grand chamber, once a place of unity, now stank of tension.
Twelve high-backed thrones circled the obsidian floor, but only nine were filled.
Duke Varn of House Vale spoke first.
"The queen has grown too bold," he said, his voice like rusted iron. "Her rule is built on fear, not loyalty. And now? The rebellion stirs again in the east."
"Luxria must not bleed for a dead girl's ghost," muttered Lady Mythis, her rings clinking as she spoke. "Let the queen handle it."
"She already failed to," Varn replied. "The assassination should have ended this mess."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
"If the girl lives," Varn said slowly, "then our plans must accelerate."
"Do you mean to oppose Adana openly?" asked another noble.
"No," Varn said. "Not yet. But we plant seeds. We choose sides. And we watch who bleeds."
Above them, hidden in the shadows of the ceiling beams, a spy crouched—silent, unseen.
A black dagger at his belt.
An ear for the queen.
---
Back at the palace…
Alice stood at her window, gripping the small sketch she kept hidden in her journal. A drawing of her and Laraine—years ago. Smiling. Happy.
Before the crown.
Before the betrayals.
Before the fire.
She traced her sister's face with a trembling fingertip.
"Where are you?" she whispered.
And in the distance, where the forest met the misted horizon, a soft wind carried the scent of firewood and ash.
---
[World Event Updated] • Political Tension in Luxria: Escalating
• Noble Support Split: 56% Loyal / 44% Rebellious
• Secret Faction Formed: "The Hollow Court"
• Spy Report Delivered to Queen Adana
• Alice's Suspicion: Rising
---
Meanwhile, miles away in a forgotten chapel…
Laraine sat alone near the hearth, unaware of the storm brewing in her homeland.
But somewhere deep inside her chest, something pulled.
A string tied to memory.
To blood.
To a sister who never stopped hoping.
---