The Blood Throne of Sahirra

[accuscripter]

The wind howled through the broken spires of the Citadel, carrying with it the scent of ash and the distant cry of mourning horns. The sky above Sahirra was not blue that day. It was a bruised gray, darkening with every beat of war drums that echoed through the capital. Somewhere beyond the veil of smoke, the clouds wept; but none louder than the child who had just become a ruler.

She stood barefoot in the ruins of the palace courtyard, small fingers clenched into the folds of her blood-stained gown. Her name was Aeryn, daughter of Queen Yssa and High King Thalen, but the name no longer mattered. The child they'd loved had died moments before they did. What remained was a throne, still warm with smoke, and a girl with red hair in a kingdom that had no place for such a thing.

She had watched it happen.

One moment, her mother was laughing. The next, she was on fire.

It wasn't a flame like any soldier's torch or oil-born blaze; it was black, oily, unnatural. Magic that hissed like serpents. It crawled over Yssa's skin, devouring her from the inside out, leaving behind nothing but bone and a crown scorched into her skull. Her father tried to save her, of course. Lunged forward, roaring like a lion. The black fire took him too, swallowing him whole. He screamed her name until he had no lungs left.

Aeryn had not screamed. Not even when her handmaid pulled her behind the silver tapestry. Not when the stones cracked and the throne chamber split open like a heart. She had stared with the frozen silence of prey; a silence that did not break even when it was over.

Now, only the bones remained. And the smoke. And the child with hair the color of blood, and eyes the hue of desert amber; both cursed by centuries of courtly lore.

They say rulers must bear eyes the shade of shadowstone; pure black, deep and sharp. They say no red-haired child has ever ruled Sahirra, not since the bloodcurse of the Scar Wars. Aeryn had both.

That should have been enough to bar her from the throne.

But there was no one left to deny her.

The High Orator placed the crown in her hands. It was still dented from the blast, part of it melted, but it gleamed all the same. The Orator's voice echoed from beneath his veil.

"By the laws of flame and blood, by the pact of the Thousand Thrones, by the will of Sahirra and its sky…"

A pause. He looked down at her, voice tightening.

"...do you accept the burden of sovereign rule?"

Aeryn looked up. Around her, black-robed nobles stood like statues, lined along the courtyard's rim. None knelt. Their eyes were hard, their necks unbowed. She knew what they saw: a child soaked in soot and taboo, trembling at the bones of her parents.

A spark flared in her chest. Something strange. Hot and sharp, like a thorn under the skin.

She stepped forward.

"I do."

The crown was placed on her head. It slipped slightly over one ear. The wind snatched at her cloak, nearly pulling it free, but she did not move. She stood, chin raised, as the sky cracked with thunder. Somewhere in the distance, bells rang to declare her name. But no one cheered.

Aeryn's first act as queen was to bury her parents herself.

She refused the priests. Refused the pallbearers, the gold-stitched funeral veils, the ceremonial birdsong. Instead, she dug the graves in the Garden of Stone with her own little hands, her maid tried to get her away, "Your Highness! Please! You are Queen now, it is below you!" but all in vain. Her hands calloused, bleeding, shivering in the cold of twilight. The guards stood back, confused but silent. Aeryn whispered to no one. She did not cry. Maid forcefully pulled her back and motioned the guards to dig the graves. She still didn't say anything, instead this six year old child tried to get free from the cold strong hands, holding her, but after all she was just a child.

Finally after her parents were buried, she planted one lily for each; red for Yssa, white for Thalen; and pressed her forehead to the mound of earth until her skin was dirt-streaked and raw.

When she finally rose, her eyes were darker than dusk.

That night, the Royal Court convened behind her back.

Old men with oil-slick beards. Grandmothers with rings on every finger. Priests who smelled of ancient parchment. They gathered in silk and fur to speak of the new queen, and whether a realm could survive a girl born of omens.

"She is too young," said High Minister Varr. "Barely six winters to her name."

"Too cursed," muttered Lady Hareth. "Red hair is a mark of the untamed. The Unblessed."

"And those eyes," spat someone else. "Amber like the beast-folk of the Dune Vale."

"Who knows after her parents, what chaos she will bring to us" another voice echoed from behind.

They spoke as if she were not in the palace at all. She was standing in the shadow of the ceiling alcove, still in her burial cloak. She heard every word. Her fingers curled around the iron railing. For a moment, she almost whispered. Almost begged.

Please... help me.

But the words never left her mouth.

She had no one left to beg.

She returned to her bedchamber that night without speaking to anyone. No servants followed. No guards kept watch.

Outside, lightning struck the far hills. Inside, Aeryn sat by the glass window, hands curled around a knife meant for bread.

She did not sleep.

---

​

Three Days Later

They tried to kill her.

It happened in the Hour of Emberlight, when the sun casts red across the horizon and the sky glows like an open wound. She had just walked into the Solar Hall for council. Behind her, the great stained-glass windows burned with light; scenes of ancient queens, battles, gods.

The knife came from nowhere. A shadow leapt from the balcony.

Aeryn turned.

The assassin's blade met the air an inch from her throat.

A scream shattered the silence; not hers, but the attacker's. His body convulsed, seizing midair. Blood burst from his eyes. His bones cracked audibly.

He dropped to the ground like a bag of shattered glass, crimson pooling from every orifice.

Aeryn stared.

It had not been her hands.

It had been… something inside her.

The court gasped. Guards surged in. The assassin was dead before they touched him.

Aeryn looked down at her hands. They shook. Her hair had darkened slightly, the tips brightening. By the time she was escorted out, streaks of deep red had begun to appear in her curls.

From that day onward, they bowed. Every viscount, martial, duke, minister, slaves and maids, everyone.

Not out of love. But out of terror after seeing a bloody response given to their by a child no older than their grandchildren. She didn't even chant a spell or looked the victim in the eyes. They were scared.

And for the first time since her parents' death… as she was hussled out of the court and everyone looked at her with shock, Aeryn smiled.

"Chapter 1 is live! Share your first impressions, theories, and reactions in the comments below! What do you think is coming next? Let's get the discussion started! Your thoughts might just shape the story ahead... "

 

[accuscripter]

Hi everyone!
I've been sharing my stories here for almost a year, and I'm so thankful to everyone who's read, liked, or commented.

Writing takes a lot of time and energy, and if you enjoy my work, I'd be so grateful if you'd consider supporting me on Patreon.

Even $4 makes a big difference. I post early chapters, bonus content, and behind-the-scenes details — and you can try it FREE for 7 days.

patreon.com/accuscripter

Thank you for being part of this journey
– Accuscripter

 

[accuscripter]

The High Court of Sahirra had stood in the middle of the red desert for seven hundred years, a ring of obsidian thrones carved into the ribs of a dead Leviathan, sunken into the heart of the capital. The old ones called it Draakhal-Veir; the Jaw of Judgment.

Aeryn sat at its center, her legs barely reaching the silver rest beneath her seat, and the court ministers as usual eyeing her with disgust and malice. But she didn't care, it was the throne that was right now her center of attention. As she tried to peek down, to see how up her feet were from the ground, she felt as if she was sitting on a pit hole and might fall anytime, in short It was too large for her. It had always been too large, even when she'd played in its shadow as a child, mimicking her father's commands in a voice full of giggles and naivety. Now, there was no play. No joy. Just silence and Dead stares.

While aeryn was drowned in self-thinking, across the circle, the nobles watched her with the quiet contempt of a pack that had lost its alpha but not its fangs. All of them were wearing their age like an armor; wrinkled skin, silver eyebrows, gold-tipped canes and bone-crested rings, looking down at her.

They bowed; they certainly did, but only their heads. Never the spine. Never low enough to forget who they thought she was: a child-queen born with taboo, stained by prophecy that was never said, and orphaned by the black fire, that also happened according to them due to her so called cursed fate.

It had been twelve days since the regimen changed after the deaths of her parents. She had ruled for twelve days only. Twelve days of icy civility, and of scraped smiles and quiet refusals by her so called servants and ministers.

She was watching them pretend to obey while they spoke behind closed doors, sent letters sealed with false approval, and changed nothing and did nothing to restore what was lost. Not the guard shifts. Not the tariffs. Not even the prayer-rites.

She needed them, she was so young to carry the world and the burden of the noble lives on her shoulders. And they knew it. And wanted to use this fact against her to get rid of her.

…….

But little Aeryn, stranger to tactics, ignorant of plannings, tired by the weight of the heavy crown, and scared of the shooting eyes, tried everything they asked her for, until she was tired.

She wore the silks they preferred; light blues and grays that "soothed the courtly mind."
She trained her voice to sound older, deeper; that only gave them more to laugh at.
She memorized the names of their wives, their bastard sons, the bloodline histories stretching back to the Silver Era.
She gifted goldleaf paper to Lady Marrion, who wrote poetry.
She complimented Lord Innos's crumbling teeth; said they looked like carved ivory.

She smiled when they mocked her. But what with the passing time it got her nothing.

They started when she was young and kept going even when she got older and tried to use her command. They laughed when she tripped over the word "recompense."
They sneered when she asked where rain came from, and if the gods had moods; out in the open court while they were discussing floods in the distant zones, her maid motioned her stop talking but they had already got a chance at her.
They exchanged amused glances when she tried to speak of tariffs and grain distribution. Even one time, as she tried to discuss the tarrifs, one of the ministers jested, "your highness, it seems you no longer worry about the moody Gods." And all of them started laughing.

It didn't matter that she'd watched her parents die.
Didn't matter that she was after all carrying the power in her blood and nightmares in her eyes.

All they saw was a little girl playing dress-up in a dead queen's crown.

One afternoon, Lord Vael of House Miraj; who wore eight rings for the sons he had lost to plague and none for the daughter he still ignored; stood up during council and said, without hesitation:

"My queen, with utmost humility, I suggest you appoint a Steward. Someone older. Wiser. You may sign off on his decisions, of course, but let him guide the blade. For now."

Aeryn's fingers stiffened around the stem of her goblet.

Vael continued. "You are burdened, child. Let us carry it with you. Just until you grow."

Heads nodded like leaves in a poisonous wind and almost all of them murmured their support.

She forced a smile. "And which of you would like to carry my crown; my dear loyal ministers?"

No one spoke up, there was dead silence.

Then, Lord Innos, the oldest man in the room said, "Only what you allow, Your Majesty."

She saw his eyes. And they were clearly saying, while he smacked his lips, with a greedy look.

Only what we let you keep.

........

She spent that night alone in the palace observatory, under the vault of stars. She was already 12 years old now. But nothing much has changed. Even today they demanded her to get off the throne. The domed ceiling of the observatory was enchanted to reflect the sky as it appeared across every region of Sahirra; storm-ridden on the coast, cloudy in the east, and cloudless in the desert heartland. She stared up at it, legs curled beneath her, crown tossed onto the marble beside her.

"Do they all hate me?" she whispered aloud.

No one answered. Her maid, also her nanny was standing right beside her, in case she needed something, and she was the only one who was on her side.

"My Queen" She said.

"Drop the formalities, Sakina…" aeryn said softly.

"I am yours, your highness, still, I must not ignore what is required of me"


Want to know what happens next before anyone else?
I post new chapters 1, week early on Patreon, and right now, you can try it FREE for 7 days.
Your support helps me keep writing.
patreon.com/accuscripter

 

[accuscripter]

today i am feeling really awkward... like i dont know what to do... and i have no motivation to do anything... i am just feeling really down

 

[accuscripter]

A Gothic Fantasy Game Experience — Now Available (and Free!)

She watches from the shadows of the throne room, her braid draped like a warning, her eyes alight with secrets. She's not waiting for you. She's testing you.

The wait is over — I'm beyond thrilled (and yes, maybe a little terrified) to finally unveil my brand new fantasy experience: The Blood Throne of Sahirra — a fully immersive story game where mystery, power, and beauty collide.

And at the center of it all? Her. The woman whose golden eyes might hold your fate... or your undoing.

What awaits you inside the game:

• A breathtaking gothic fantasy world soaked in shadows and secrets
• A rich, branching story full of choices, consequences, and forbidden lore
• A fierce, full-body heroine who is not here to be saved — she's here to test you
• Witchy elegance, royal danger, cursed gemstones, and one very sharp throne...

How to play:

To access the game, simply become a free member of my Patreon.
That's it. No payment. No lock. Just click, join, and step into Sahirra's world.

Click here to become a free member and play The Blood Throne of Sahirra


She's waiting.
But she does not wait patiently.
Come prove you're worthy of her court.
Only on Patreon

 

[accuscripter]

What is required of you? She said with a chuckle and looked at her.

"The decorum!" Sakina said with a serious expression.

Aeryn stopped smiling and looked away.

"They are scared of you my queen!"

"That doesn't really seem like that."

"Then another assassination might have occurred, soon after the first one failed."

"Do you think they know it was me?"

"I believe they know it was you… that's why they didn't dare to do anything reckless again."

"Hmm… then it seem they have forgotten it." Aeryn said with a calm smile.

"Yes?" Sakina said with fear in her eyes.

"Go announce it. Tomorrow there will be a feast in the honor of the noble bloodlines. Everyone must be present."

Sakina had a troubled expression. She was looking at aeryn with confused eyes.

"What?" Aeryn said as she gave her a side eye.

"Nothing my queen! Your words are my command!" And saying this she rushed out of the observatory, her velvet trail following after her.

And aeryn looked up at sky again. Enough of the puppet play… Its time I guess… she said to herself and let out a sigh.

…….

The next day, she held the feast.

An apology, she called it. A show of gratitude for the noble houses' guidance and patience. The grand dining hall was lined with gold-plated mirrors and strings of lavender glass, perfumed with crushed mint leaves and blue citrus. Dancers from the western isles twirled barefoot on silk rugs. Musicians played the double-flute and the deep-toned harp of the Wyrd Tribes.

The court arrived in full regalia, they were suspicious and curious. But lured by wine and women, and flattered by the gesture they came.

Lady Marrion sat nearest the throne, and with a haughty and pleased expression she said, "I mist say, a mature gesture, my queen."

Aeryn smiled and bowed her head slightly with agreement.

"I'm learning my ways; Lady Marrison."

By midnight, they were all drunk. Every last one of them.

And Aeryn was watching them. She watched as Lord Vael leaned too far forward and spilled mead across his belly. She watched as Innos snored into his own sleeve. She watched as Lady Marrion spoke verses to a vase, thinking it was her lover.

The girl queen stood. Raised her goblet.

"To wisdom," she said, voice loud and clear. "To guidance. To growing into my crown."

The court raised theirs. But they couldn't notice the flicker of red behind her pupils, the way her glass shimmered strangely in the torchlight. And no one heard the heartbeat of the room go slow; just a little.

Sakina immediately got close to aeryn. "Not Today my queen!" she said with a dreaded look.

She smiled and spilled the drink in front of her then got close to her, enough to be looked as if she was hugging her, another dignity wrecking practice by a royal, glass still in her hand. "Sakina, I will let them live this night. All of them. But they will remember this feast. Not for the taste of the lamb or the laughter in the hall; but for the unease that is going to crept into them afterward. The dreams that will haunt their sleep. The feeling that something had watched them from behind. I will make them hate their very bloodline, the one they are so proud of today!"

Then she moved away, a strange proud expression playing on her face. and swirled as if she was possessed and sat on her high golden chair.

Sakina didn't think more, as far as everyone is not getting killed, its fine. She thought to herself and let out a sigh of relief.

In the weeks that followed, she continued her "lessons." But she stopped smiling as much. She stopped bending, and the court, well they were seeing this change in her behavior, and they were growing warier.

Then one time it so occurred that, Lord Vael questioned a trade route order she had signed.

And then two days later, his horses bled to death in their stable. No wounds. Just... blood, vanished from their veins.

The next day she said it in the court, "I heard Lord Vael lost his precious horses the last night".

"My lady, has quite an information about the personal affairs of High Lord Vael" a minion minister of lower bloodline spoke for Lord Vael, and Lord Vael protruded his chest out with proud, as if to demand explanation from aeryn.

"I believe you are forgetting the decorum Minister Zalar! Mind yourself, who knows, when you end up like the horses!"

Lord vael immediately was taken aback while that minister Zalar, replied, "Forgive my slip of tongue My queen!"

"Whats the use of tongue that slips! Better get rid of it… No? Lord Vael?" aeryn looked at Lord Vael. Who didn't say anything in response and just bowed down, deeper, this time. Much deeper.

Then she continued, "I remember one of you asked me to appoint a steward, Lord Vael, you said, I am a child and Lord Innos you said, only what I will allow will be handled. But none of you suggested who should be appointed…."

No one of them spoke again.

Lord Innos, how about you?!

"Forgive me my queen! I am old. Instead its high time I should resign." He said with contempt while hiding his face.

Resignation Accepted!

Yes? No I meant…

Lord vael you would like to be the steward?

I am incompetent my queen. He bowed.

Lord zalar! You even forgot I am the queen! You must want to become the steward, I presume!

"I deserve death my queen! You don't need a steward!" He fell in prostration in front of her.

"Hmm… well if anyone of you ever want to suggest anyone for the position of my steward, can let me know… for now court is dismissed"


Fuel my caffeine addiction, feed my cat, and join the awesomeness! Support me on Patreon for exclusive goodies, behind-the-scenes shenanigans, and irreversible creativity .

 

[Kadessor]

It's an interesting story.

I'm usually not sure about original fiction but I like the concept and seeing it through the eyes of a child queen way out of her depth but trying to not let people walk all over her.

I'm curious about the magic system. How does it work? How does her specific magic work?

I'm kind of shocked at the distain the court has of her? Is it because she is just a child or is it her magic/bloodline?

Small note you are missing some punctuation for speech in a few places and the. Capitalizing some names.


I'm curious where this goes. What the plot with end up focusing on and where our little queen will go.

 

[accuscripter]

A few days later…

The dagger struck the air where her heart had been half a second earlier.

It clattered against stone, and Aeryn turned; slowly, as if the motion were part of a ritual older than time. Her red-streaked hair caught the torchlight like fire unfurling.

Behind her, the would-be assassin writhed in pain like a slippery snail sprinkled with salt.

He had no face anymore. No breath. Just blood that looked as if its leaking from his ears like tears from a statue. His limbs trembled violently, like pulled taut by invisible strings.

Aeryn had not lifted a hand was evident. The Court whole court was watching her and the assassin. They watched in horrified silence from their positions, frozen in place. They had all come for the Tribunal of Houses; an event of order and old ceremony. They had not come expecting to witness a blood rite.

And yet here it was.

Few hours ago…

Hours earlier, it had seemed like a normal court day. Normal in a sense that after aeryn had questioned her royal court the days before and had struck them silence, since then the court though presumably normal was more of a tense and taut battleground, battling a cold war.

That day, Aeryn had entered the Jaw of Judgment in a gown of raven black, ringlets of crimson gold wound in her hair. Her eyes, pale brown as honey over cooled steel, scanned the gathered Houses and seated royals and nobles in positions.

As soon as she entered the court doors, she heard that there was an assassin among the people present. It was one of her own guards. She hadn't known which one; only that one of them had been paid. She'd heard the whispers in the bones.

Yes, the bones. They spoke to her now. She didn't understand how. Maybe they always had, and only now did she actually understood it in the silent chaos.

As she walked toward the throne she listened, not the songs of the minstrels or the shuffle of boots; but to the marrow-hushed voices beneath the palace stones.

And they whispered: One among them comes to spill your crown.

As she sat on her throne she smiled and sent her maid sakina away in guise of a task and let whatever was supposed to come, come.

She let him lunge. And the moment his blade swung, Aeryn turned with unnatural calm, like a prepared knight.

And in that instant; something inside her broke. No … break is for the weak, something opened inside her.

It was like a well bursting open after centuries of drought. A howl of red fury. A roar in her ears that wasn't sound at all, but blood calling to blood.

The guard's veins lit up beneath his skin, glowing red-hot like molten metal in a forge. He dropped his weapon, shrieking, and clawed at his own flesh. His blood did not spurt; it rose, spiraling from his wounds in ribbons of scarlet, caught in the invisible grasp of a girl who had once dug graves with her hands.

When the body dropped, Aeryn said nothing. She only looked up at the court. As if its saying,

"what is this? Are you playing with me? This all you have got?"

No tears. No screams. Only the silence of someone who had just remembered what she was made of. His eyes as he laid on the floor were stuck on aeryn, as she gave the order, with waving hand and disgusted look, turning her sight away, "clean this up!"

Red hair. Amber eyes. And something older than either. She continued, "if you ever want to play games likes this, either atleast choose good players or play me directly and clean after your mess! Don't spoil my court with the foul blood!"

She turned to sit back and they bowed at her in affirmation to her command. Not all at once, and absolutely not in a show of unity.

It began with Lady Marrion, her lips pale and trembling, her knees creaking as she sank to the floor, her maids trying to hold her stout body.

Then came Lord Innos, hand to heart, expression blank.

Even Vael bowed; though his neck twitched like it resisted the weight of it.

They bent low, not in loyalty but in terror. A child queen had survived an attempt on her life and responded with a display of power so absolute, even the ghosts in the walls held their breath. Now it was confirmed to them, she was not simple like her parents, it won't be easy to get rid of her.

That night, the Jaw of Judgment closed early. And Aeryn locked herself in her chamber. She stared into the mirror for what felt like hours. Her hair had changed. The red that had once only kissed the tips now bled and ran upward, strand by strand, like her roots were catching flame from the inside out.

She touched her scalp. It didn't hurt. But it didn't feel like hers anymore, either.

Her light brown eyes glimmered faintly; more gold than ever before. Something deep in her blood was waking. She felt hot and flushed. Heat escaping her body. She threw herself on her bed trying to sleep and forget what she did in the morning, but the mere memory of her committing murder kept her up.

At midnight, she went to the mirror again. This time, she whispered.

"What are you?"

But the girl staring back said nothing.

…………

She had long stopped trying to please them but after the murder all possibilities of standing with them at same page were lost. She was tired of pretending to be what she was not. She made commitment herself in the mirror.

No more flattery.
No more performances.
No more Council tea rituals or fake smiles over honeyed bread.

Then when she went to the court she gave a single command:

"All Houses will bind blood to me. Publicly. No more ancestral oaths on parchment. I want blood. I want bone."

All of them gasped and resisted this. Of course they did. Some said, " your highness you are too young!"

Your highness, you wont be able to carry the weight of the blood!"

Your highness… blood demand blood, it will retaliate!"

Your highness… this

Your highness… that…"

All of them were saying everything to stop her from binding them down to her. Binding blood meant, they had to protect each other on the verge of blood and death.

But their resistance lasted exactly two days, they knew her powers now, though little but enough to make them even dread her in their dreams. One by one, the Great Houses stood before her in the Tower of Names, where the ancestral records were etched into silver stone. Aeryn stood at the heart of the ritual circle, barefoot, her red hair unbound, the palace storming behind her with thunder not born from clouds.

She watched them prick their thumbs and drip their noble blood into the flame. Watched the sigils blaze red across the silver. Watched their magic, their power, their lineages; all bind to her.

She was no longer just their queen. She was their anchor. Their leash. And their curse.

But not all Houses complied in truth. One; used false blood, drawn from a stable beast. They mimicked the ritual. Lied to her face.

She didn't notice at first, not for some time But Sahirra remembered.

……

That week, her advisors mostly her teachers and mentors begged her to soften.

"The court fears you, your highness" one whispered. "Fear is not the same as loyalty. My queen!"

She dismissed him with a flick of her fingers; and he bled from the nose for three days. No physician could stop it. And words spread.

Aeryn, the Witch Queen.

Aeryn, the Redborn.

Aeryn, the Blood Heiress of Hama.

 

[accuscripter]

Aeryn had stopped sleeping.

Not because she couldn't. But because she feared what sleep would bring. She was having nightmares; days for now.

The dreams had begun just days after the binding ceremony. At first, they came in fragments...smears of red across a sunless sky, hands stretched toward her from beneath bone-colored soil, and a sound, distant and wet, like water dripping in a dying well.

But now the dreams were full. And last night, the kingdom had died in them.

She had stood in the courtyard of the palace...barefoot, blood-soaked...and watched the people of Sahirra stagger through the streets with hollow eyes and sunken cheeks, their veins empty. Not cut. Not pierced. Simply… emptied. Their blood gone. As if the land had drunk it.

They walked until they fell. They fell until they cracked. Not a scream among them. Only silence, and the wet whisper of red flowing through unseen cracks in the stone. It seemed as if they were all walking dead. No soul, no expression, no feelings, no nothing.

She woke up with a scream. And when she awoke, her pillow was stained with blood from her nose. She looked at her hand, also blood soaked and trembling.

……

Sakina found her at dawn, sitting beneath the bone-laced arch of the eastern window, knees pulled to her chest, hair uncombed and face damp with sweat and some streaks of dried blood, that were not washed away, even after her meticulous face cleaning.

"My queen…" she started softly, clutching a pitcher of lavender water.

Aeryn turned to her with red-rimmed eyes.

"If I asked you something... would you lie to me?"

Sakina hesitated. "If you ordered me to."

"Don't."

The girl-queen's voice was hoarse.

"Tell me the truth. Tell me what they call me." As she said this she looked out of the window into the far distance.

Sakina looked down. Then whispered: "The Witch Queen."

Aeryn nodded slowly, as if she had already known. As if the word itself had been stitched to the inside of her skin and now it simply itched.

"They think I drink blood, don't they?" she said with a faint smile

"They fear you," Sakina said. "And when men fear women, they make monsters out of them." She fell on her knees as she said this.

Aeryn didn't say more. And sakina stayed that way until aeryn left her alone in the room.

She did not go to court that day.

Instead, she walked barefoot into the labyrinths beneath the palace...where the walls were carved with the names of dead rulers, and the air smelled of salt and forgotten fires. She had not been here since her coronation. She passed her hand on the wall. Torches lit themselves as she passed. Her power was no openly flickering at her fingertips, uncalled for. The blood in the stone hummed as if it just wanted an opportunity to present itself.

Finally she reached her parents' tomb. Their sarcophagi stood side by side, carved from deep sapphire obsidian, veined with molten silver.

Aeryn knelt down on the graves. Reached a hand toward the script etched into the lids.

Queen Elaira. King Maeron.

But as she did this her fingers froze. She saw that the stone was cracked. Someone had defiled it.

Aeryn's heart thundered in her chest as she scrambled to her feet, eyes scanning the floor.

She cried, "SAKINA!"

But before anyone could hear her, There...burned into the marble in blood-red ink she saw a writing,

Your power will be your tomb. Lose it willingly and you and your people will live. Go against the divine calling and you will face retribution that was never seen before.

She did not scream, nor did she call for anyone this time.

She straightened her back and turned. Then a figure in grey white stepped out from the shadows at the far edge of the tomb...hooded, faceless, cloaked in robes that shimmered like oil on water.

Aeryn raised her hand, magic pooling at her palm. "Who are you?"

The voice was not male nor it was female. It felt new. A non-human voice. That was beautiful to hear yet sent a thrill of horror on the listeners.

"A message. That is all." It said

"What message?"

The figure tilted its head.

"You dream of blood because it remembers. You see a dying realm because it is already dying."

Aeryn's voice cracked. "Then tell me how to save it."

"Let it go."

"I can't. I won't."

The figure began to fade into shadow.

"Then the curse will bloom, red as your crown."

Why?

"The One who created you will not burden your soul beyond what you can bear. But you have crossed a threshold, and He cannot allow you to go beyond what has been ordained for you. Either relinquish your gifts, or face the destruction by the very power you seek to wield while awaiting the divine retribution! a lesson for those who try defy His will."

Aeryn had a confused expression, she wanted to ask more but it vanished.

She collapsed there in the tomb, all alone, on the cold marble, the bones of kings and queens pressing their silence into her from all sides. Her breathing was shallow. She don't remember how she got out of the tomb and got to her room, but the crown felt heavier that night when she put it back and looked herself in the mirror.

The next morning, she stood before the mirror again.

Her hair was almost entirely red now. Only the faintest traces of gold remained near the scalp. Her eyes… not light brown anymore. Not entirely. There was something else in them now...an echo of copper, a glint of something ancient.

She stared. And behind her reflection, for just a moment, she saw the people again. The hollow-eyed. The bloodless dead mannequins. Then she turned away before the scream could escape her lips.

…………….

The court tried to pretend nothing had changed. Though the people were vailing their disregard for the queen because afterall this was all started by them and fanned by them and they wanted this to happen. They came in casually their silks and leathers. They bowed with the same guarded half-curves. They delivered reports and requested permissions as though the world was not unraveling thread by thread.

But they spoke softly, and watched her hands. They were using her weakness, her people against her, and this was proving to be more devastating and more lethal than any assassin or poison.

……………..

In the lower quarters of Sahirra, in the crooked alleys and the salt-mines, the rumors had already bloomed and were becoming unstopable. Whispers of the blood-queen who cursed the crops with her shadow. Of the red-haired girl who drank nightmares. Of the palace whose stones bled at midnight. And one rumor louder than all the others was:

She is not the queen. She is the curse.

That night, as Aeryn returned to the observatory. The enchanted sky swirled above her...gray and storm-choked.

"no stars tonight, Your Highness" Sakina said while looking up.

Aeryn stood at the center of the chamber, her arms crossed behind her back.

Sakina said. "My queen…"

"Sakina," Aeryn interrupted, "Do you believe I was born cursed?"

"I believe," Sakina said gently, "that you were born watched."

Aeryn turned.

"By what?"

"By something ancient. Something the world thought it had buried."

The queen's voice cracked. "Then I will bury it again!"

Sakina frowned. "And if it's part of you?"

Aeryn's lips trembled. She didn't answer. She already had the answer. She knew it.

she just whispered, "I will save them. Even if I must become what they fear or what I fear."

uffff... i am shocked at what i have written, ughhh!!! love myself, chef's kiss to meeee you can also achoose to love me as well by Fueling my caffeine addiction, feed my cat, and join the awesomeness! Support me on Patreon accuscripter for exclusivity, behind-the-scenes shenanigans, and irreversible creativity