The world returned to her in fragments—
the chill of stone, the taste of iron, and the distant echo of footsteps.
Elara's eyes fluttered open to darkness.
Her wrists were bound in rough rope, her gown torn, her head pounding like war drums.
She wasn't in the ballroom anymore. She was in a cell.
A thin sliver of moonlight spilled through a narrow window high above her. The air smelled of damp earth and betrayal.
She tried to stand, but the chain attached to her ankle dragged her back down.
The realization struck cold: she was a prisoner.
But why?
Then the door creaked open.
A guard stepped in, torchlight spilling into the room — behind him came a figure she recognized instantly.
Lord Merek.
"Well, well," he said smoothly, setting down the torch. "The future queen of Valenor, in chains. What irony."
Elara glared up at him. "Where is Darius?"
He smiled faintly. "His Majesty is safe. Which is more than I can say for you."
Her stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"
He began to pace slowly, the sound of his boots echoing.
"There was… an unfortunate incident last night. The king is dead."
Her breath caught. "What?"
Merek tilted his head, eyes glinting with false sympathy. "Poisoned, they say. And according to witnesses, you were seen bringing the king his wine."
"That's a lie!" she cried. "I wasn't even near—"
"Save your breath," he interrupted. "The evidence is overwhelming. And Prince Darius—pardon, King Darius now—was quite devastated by your betrayal."
Elara's heart shattered in silence.
No. Darius couldn't have said that.
He wouldn't.
But Merek's smirk said everything.
"You see, my lady," he said softly, "you've been painted as the perfect traitor. Jealous, desperate, in love with the crown more than the man. It's a fine story. The people already whisper it in the streets."
She shook her head in disbelief. "He knows me. He knows I would never—"
"Perhaps," Merek said, crouching low beside her, "but knowing and caring are two very different things in Valenor."
He rose and motioned to the guard. "The trial will be swift. The sentence swifter."
As they turned to leave, Elara's voice broke through the shadows.
"I will find the truth," she said hoarsely. "And when I do—he'll see what he's done."
Merek chuckled. "Oh, I hope so," he said. "Vengeance makes for such… beautiful entertainment."
The door slammed shut.
---
Hours passed — or maybe days. Time meant nothing here.
Elara replayed every moment in her mind: the coronation, the whispering voices, the prick on her neck.
Every piece of it formed a puzzle with her heart at the center.
But one thought burned brighter than the rest:
He betrayed me.
The words echoed like a curse.
---
One night, as rain hammered the stone above, Elara heard a faint sound through the walls — a voice, low and raspy.
"Do you wish to live?"
She froze. "Who's there?"
"Answer the question."
Her pulse quickened. "Yes," she whispered. "I want to live."
The voice chuckled, almost amused.
"Then remember this: the innocent die quietly. The vengeful never do."
Lightning flashed through the narrow window, and for a heartbeat she saw it — a shadowy figure in the corner of her cell, face hidden beneath a dark hood.
"Elara Vayne," the voice said, "your life was taken from you. But I can give you something better—power."
Her breath caught. "What kind of power?"
"The kind that tears thrones apart."
The figure lifted a hand, and a small flame flickered to life — black and cold, like a dying star.
"Do you accept it?"
Elara hesitated. Every instinct screamed that this was wrong — but so was what had been done to her.
"I accept," she whispered.
The shadow smiled. "Then bleed for it."
---
Pain seared through her wrist as the shadow drew a line across her skin, letting a drop of her blood fall into the flame. The cell filled with whispers — hundreds of voices murmuring ancient words. The air grew heavy, pressing on her lungs until she thought she might break.
Then the flame sank into her skin.
Elara gasped, falling back. Her veins burned with light, her heart pounding like thunder. For a moment, she saw visions — fire consuming the castle, Darius on his knees, a crown melting into ash.
When the vision faded, she was alone again.
The cell was silent.
But the flame still pulsed faintly beneath her skin.
And in the distance, the sound of the guards' footsteps drew closer.
---
Elara looked up at the door, her breath calm now.
The fear was gone.
Only purpose remained.
When the door opened, she smiled faintly and whispered,
"Tell your king… I'm ready for his judgment."
But deep down, she was thinking something else entirely:
The judgment will be mine.