The grey clouds had sensed the darkness looming over the palace. Perhaps it was even the sun's humble request — that it be excused today. It did not wish to witness the queen being burned alive.
Since yesterday, a gentle rain had been falling, but since morning, only clouds remained — dense, black clouds that peeked curiously through the windows like messengers.
As if they had just whispered the news to their companion, the wind — that the pile of wood collected in the palace courtyard had turned damp.
The wind squealed with delight at the news, but that joy faded the moment she saw the stone-hearted soldiers gathering dry wood.
On the palace rooftops, every footstep, every whisper, every conspiracy echoed… In those whispers, some carried joy, while others wore the shadow of sorrow.
Princess Tasha, awaiting her first birthday, was at that moment in the arms of her usual nanny. Holding her close, the woman was softly reciting something under her breath, pacing the dark room from right to left. Tears flowed from her eyes. She peeked out the window — a fresh heap of girls was being arranged into a specific circle. Her second glance fell on the tiny sleeping fairy in her arms.
With grief, she whispered:
"Little Tasha… today you will be deprived of your mother's embrace."
The echo of that whisper floated toward the royal palace of the Valenheart Empire —
— and stood still on the pulse of time, gazing down at Castle Valenheart. A castle perched atop a high mountain, yet careless of the fear of God.
The palace's outer gate, adorned with black stones, was open — simultaneously for the king and the whisper.
Walking slowly, the king sat upon a stone bench carved from dark rock. The ministers and soldiers halted at a short distance.
In the king's eyes, sorrow shimmered… and more than sorrow, cowardice.
King Izar Valenheart lifted his gaze.
His mother, Queen Ena Valenheart, walked toward him alongside her beloved niece, Merina Darlene. Draped in long, silky gowns, hands clasped, their royal crowns resting upon loose hair, they walked with regal poise.
Both bowed their heads before the king.
Queen Ena's scrutinizing eyes observed the sorrow flickering in her son's eyes. On his right sat Ena, and to his left — Merina, her beautiful features framed by deep golden hair.
Ena's conspiratorial old eyes scanned the entire courtyard. All the ministers stood in a line to the king's left. The black clouds had so engulfed the fortress today that faces could barely be recognized. A strange silence draped the atmosphere. Everyone avoided each other's eyes.
With a lifted chin, the queen looked toward a high window across the courtyard.
There stood the queen — holding baby Tasha in her arms. Her maid, Safura, stood beside her, peeking out.
In the queen's hair — golden like ripe wheat — a delicate crown was nestled. Clad in a deep crimson gown, she stood calmly, eyes focused on her sleeping child.
Ena kept her gaze fixed on the queen until the queen became aware.
In response, the queen locked her serene eyes onto those of her mother-in-law, Queen Ena Valenheart.
"Why are her eyes so calm?" Ena muttered.
King Izar chuckled and shook his head.
Startled, Ena looked over — he too was gazing toward the window.
He shifted his gaze and turned to his mother, the queen.
"A traitor's eyes are always calm, Mother," Izar said, his voice bitter.
Queen Ena smiled, casting her victorious eyes back to the queen standing before the window. Victory gleamed in Ena's gaze.
The queen smiled and drew the curtain, stepping inside the room.
She touched baby Tasha and murmured softly before placing her in the maid's arms.
"Take care of my daughter."
The maid let her tears fall freely and collapsed at the queen's feet.
"Let me burn in your place, my queen. You are innocent."
Tears welled up in the queen's eyes.
"Stand up, Safura.
Know this — the truth never dies.
I will burn, but I will prove that those who walk the path of truth do not need to shout."
Safura tried to speak, but the queen stopped her with a gesture. Wearing a soft smile, she handed baby Tasha to her.
Outside the room, the soldiers awaited her.
The queen looked at her room one last time — this room had been her dream's home.
Shaking her head, she walked gracefully down the staircase carved from black stone.
As she entered the courtyard, every soldier bowed their head involuntarily.
She smiled — these bowed heads were witness that she was no traitor.
The king knew it too… but some unseen pressure had bound him.
The same queen for whom he had risked his entire empire — today, he was the one ordering her to be burned alive.
There were no chains on her hands or feet.
With composed steps, she walked to the pile of wood and stood still.
Old memories knocked gently at her mind.
"If you want to succeed, learn to fight fire," her father had whispered once to little Queen.
Her mother, standing before the mirror adjusting her crown, had laughed softly:
"You don't fight fire, my love… you play with it."
The queen shook her head and looked up at the blackened sky.
"Rain will begin soon. Let the fire be lit," she said in a commanding voice.
The soldiers hesitated.
King Izar gestured with his hand, but the soldiers did not move.
Ena's eyes flared with anger.
"Jack! Raun!" she barked, calling the commanders, and they stepped forward at once.
"Light the fire! Burn this traitor!"
Merina looked at her aunt, then at the king — the king she loved with all her heart, yet this witch had trapped him with her golden hair.
"And my hair is golden too… hmm."
She smiled smugly.
"At last, he will be mine."
Jack and Raun's men quickly lit the torches and placed them beneath the wood.
The fire slowly began to touch the wood.
The queen, silently watching every flickering flame, walked toward a soldier bringing a torch and took it from his hand.
She stared into the flame for a long time, until it flared red and wild.
The queen smiled, turned the torch toward the king, then spun slowly, raising the torch before the entire courtyard.
With a powerful voice, she spoke:
"I am the Queen of the Valenheart Empire —
A wise, brilliant, and kind-hearted queen.
But before that… I am the proud daughter of a brave father."
Even unwillingly, every heart paused to listen. There was pain in her voice… sorrow.
She spoke, ignoring all expressions around her:
"This fire may turn my body to ash… but it will ignite hearts.
Who says fire only burns?
It is traitors who disgrace their lineage… who lower their father's head in shame.
But to those who dare call me a traitor…
Look — my hands are unchained.
This is the mark of courage!"
She threw the burning torch onto the wood.
Lightning flashed across the sky.
"My father… up there in the heavens… watches me with pride.
My mother waits for me… holding a crown of white flowers.
Remember this — I will remember every one of your faces.
All of you.
listen All of you.".
Her voice faltered.
Wearing her crown with honor, she laid herself gently upon the pyre.
The burning wood pulled her downward.
Her crimson dress had caught fire.
Lightning struck again and the sky trembled.
A tear slipped from her right eye and scattered across her flaming, smiling face.
Within minutes, nothing remained but burning black ash.
The soldiers stood with bowed heads.
Rain, like mourning, poured upon the ashes and spread them into the mud.
Everyone stood silently, soaked in the rain…
There was nothing left to say.
But
"Whether it's a crown on her head or ashes at her feet — when a woman returns, everything burns."