The moment our eyes met

PROLOGUE Eldrida palace, Eldritch As the sun cast its golden rays upon the palace, Queen Victoria hastened down the corridor, her Lady-in-Waiting, Lady Charlotte, closely following. The soft rustle of their silk skirts against the marble floor echoed the urgency of their footsteps, accompanied by the faint scent of lavender and rose petals wafting from the nearby flower arrangements. "Come, Lady Charlotte, we must hurry!" the Queen exclaimed, her voice low and conspiratorial, her words barely audible over the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

"I've received word that the twins are awake and demanding attention." Lady Charlotte's eyes sparkled with amusement as she kept pace with the Queen, her gaze flicking toward the nursery door. "I daresay, Your Majesty, the little ones are already ruling the palace with their tiny fists." Upon arriving at the nursery, they were greeted by the warm smile of the royal nanny, Mrs. Jenkins, who curtsied deeply. "Good morrow, Your Majesty! The babies are ready for their morning feeding." As the Queen entered the nursery, a warm, golden light spilled across the room, casting a serene ambiance. The soft cooing of the twins and the gentle rocking of the nursery staff created a soothing melody, punctuated by the occasional creak of the wooden rocking chairs. But amidst this peaceful atmosphere, a sense of unease settled in the pit of the Queen's stomach, like a cold stone dropped into a still pond. Her gaze swept the room, her eyes locking onto the twin cribs, adorned with intricate carvings of royal crests and flowers. The babies lay swaddled, their tiny faces scrunched up in sleep. The Queen's heart swelled with love and pride as she approached the cribs, her silk skirts rustling softly. But as she peered into the face of one of the twins, her smile faltered. Her eyes narrowed, her brow furrowing in concern. Something was amiss. The baby's eyes, once closed, now fluttered open, like the petals of a flower unfolding. The Queen's gaze locked onto those eyes, and her breath caught in her throat, like a bird taking flight. A jolt of shock ran through her veins, like ice water poured into her very marrow. The baby's eyes were different. One eye shone bright blue, like a summer sky, while the other gleamed with a warm, honey-brown hue, like the richest soil. The Queen's mind reeled, as if she had stumbled into a dark, forgotten chamber deep within the palace. Her thoughts swirled, like a maelstrom, as she struggled to comprehend the significance of this... this aberration. "Good heavens, Mrs. Jenkins!" the Queen exclaimed, her voice barely above a whisper, her words trembling like the leaves of a tree in an autumn breeze. "What's this?" The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thickening like a fog rolling in off the Thames. The nursery staff exchanged nervous glances, their faces pale as alabaster. Mrs. Jenkins' expression turned uneasy, her eyes darting to the Queen before settling on the baby, like a bird seeking shelter from a storm. "I-I was about to inform you, Your Majesty..." Mrs. Jenkins began, her voice trembling like a leaf. "His eyes... they seem to be... different." The Queen's face contorted in horror, her eyes fixed on the baby with a mix of shock, disgust, and fear, like a person beholding a monstrous creature from a nightmare. The atmosphere in the nursery grew thick with tension, heavy with the weight of the Queen's unspoken thoughts, like a physical presence that could be felt. "Is he diseased?" she bellowed, her voice echoing off the marble walls, like a thunderclap on a summer day. Mrs. Jenkins shook her head, trembling like a leaf. "No, Your Majesty, his eyes... they're just-" "This is an abomination!" the Queen spat, her voice venomous, like a snake striking its prey. "Never seen anything like it! The king will freak out, the whole kingdom will freak out. I gave birth to a beast!" Lady Charlotte's eyes darted to the baby, her expression a mask of neutrality, like a still pond reflecting the sky above. "Your Majesty, a rare condition, I believe." The Queen's gaze locked onto the baby, her face twisted in disgust, like a person beholding something foul and repellent. "I will not have a future king with a rare condition," she snarled, her voice dripping with malice, like a viper spitting its venom. As the Queen's words hung in the air, Lady Charlotte's eyes met Mrs. Jenkins', exchanging a fleeting glance of concern, like two people sharing a secret. The nursery, once filled with the sweet scent of innocence, now seemed tainted by the weight of royal expectation. "Toss him into the canal," the Queen breathed, her voice barely audible. "Let the beast die." A heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the soft cooing of the babies. "Your Majesty-" Mrs. Jenkins began, her voice trembling. The Queen's eyes flashed with anger. "Toss him into the canal, let the beast die!"