Blood of the Crown

Dark clouds gathered over the high towers of Eldoria as thunder rolled across the sky. The once golden sunlight that bathed the kingdom now dimmed under thick, angry clouds. The people called it an omen.

A peaceful village with happy villagers becomes silent.

Inside the tall marble walls of the palace, the air was cold and heavy. Servants moved like ghosts, whispering and weeping. The King, Alden the Brave, lay on his grand bed, pale as the snow on the haunted mountain. The fire in the hearth could not warm him anymore. His body was cold, but his eyes still burned with a soft fire.

Amira, his only daughter stood at his side. Her dark hair was braided with silver strands, her royal robe soaked at the hem from kneeling too long. She held his hand, but it felt lifeless. She became very scared, different thoughts running through her mind.

"Will my father really die? " Who will be the heir". She knew she can't rule the kingdom all by herself. The villagers will not agree to a woman ruling them.

"Father," she whispered with a trembling voice and a pale look.

The King opened his eyes slowly like the cracking of an old door.

"My little moon," he said, with a weak smile "You are no longer little. You wear the crown in your eyes now."

Tears filled her eyes. She hated when he called her that, it was the name he gave her when she was a child, afraid of the dark.

"The people need you," she said. "Not me. I'm not ready."

"You are ready," he said, coughing hard, blood staining the corners of his mouth. "You were born ready. You carry fire and wisdom in your blood."

A sharp knock was heard at the chamber door.

It was Elder Merin, the king's closest advisor. Behind him stood three more council members.

"Your Grace," said Elder Merin, eyes downcast. "It is time. The council must witness the naming of your heir."

Amira became more scared, trembling with teary eyes.

King Alden nodded. "Bring the seal. I will choose."

Amira rose, her heart beating fast. Her name was whispered in every corner of Eldoria, both in praise and in hate. Many saw her as strong, fair, and wise. Others, especially the old families and rural villagers believed a woman should never wear the crown.

But she was the only true child of Alden.

Or so they believed.

In the long hall beneath the Tower of Kings, the council stood in silence.

The seal of succession, a golden sun etched into ancient stone sat in the king's trembling hands. He was carried on a throne of ironwood, wheeled into the chamber, too weak to walk. A hush fell as he raised the seal.

"I, Alden, King of Eldoria," he said, voice echoing through the high hall, "name my heir this day."

Murmurs passed through the nobles.

"Amira of Eldoria," he said clearly, raising the seal. "She shall be Queen."

A loud gasp rose among the nobles.

"She is unwed!" someone shouted.

"She is too young!" another hissed.

"A woman on the throne will bring ruin!"

Amira stepped forward,her spine straight, her chin high. She had to summon courage for her dying father.

Before this time, she has always done her father's wish. She would do anything to make him happy since the death of her mother.

"I accept the crown," she said. "With the strength of my father's blood and the truth of my heart."

One noble, a sharp-eyed man with golden rings, stepped forward and spat on the floor.

"There is another," he said coldly. "Elder Varek. He is your blood too, is he not, my King?"

The room turned cold.

The name hadn't been spoken in the court for years.

Elder Varek, once known as Lord Varek, was Alden's firstborn son. Born to a woman from the outer woods. A woman of strange blood and wild magic.

He was older than Amira, but he had been banished after trying to take the throne by force, years ago. It was said he studied forbidden spells. Some said he was cursed. Some said he had vanished into the mountains to find demons.

"He is no longer my son," King Alden said with finality. "He chose chaos over family. Amira is Queen."

The seal was pressed to her brow. The magic in it burned her skin, marking her as true heir.

But in the shadows behind the stone pillars, a messenger ran out of the room quietly. He carried a note bound in black thread. It would travel through the woods and rivers to a dark place.

To the place where Varek waited.

Two years after her father's death, she got married to the guy betrothed to her by her father.

She lived happily with her husband.

They had three children, Kael, her first son, Nyra, her daughter and Draven her third child and last son.

Years later ,she lost her precious husband to the cold hands of death, this was the beginning of chaos in the village.

It was rumoured she killed her husband

Some villagers said her life would have been easier if she had left the throne for her father.

Queen Amira would not dare leave the throne for her cold hearted brother.

The village will ruin more and her father's wishes would not come true .

The golden banners of Queen Amira still flew over the palace, but they were stained by smoke and dust. The kingdom of Eldoria was no longer peaceful. Farms failed. Livestock vanished in the night. Strange howls echoed from the forests.

The people blamed the Queen.

"Her blood is cursed," the villagers said. "Her rule has brought nothing but death."

" She even killed her husband with her selfish reasons"

Amira stood on the palace balcony, looking over the city. Fires burned in the far quarter. There had been another riot. Another family gone missing.

Her guards waited behind her, silent.

She turned to her advisor, Lady Venna. "They want me gone."

"They are afraid," Venna said. "They whisper about your children."

Amira's jaw tightened. "Kael and Nyra are innocent."

"They are... changing," Venna said softly. "Kael's eyes glow at night. Nyra speaks to shadows and in riddles, drawing symbols in the air that made candles flicker.

And Draven, her youngest, was growing wild. He bit a servant last week. He howled in his sleep

"They are not monsters," Amira said. "They are my children."

But deep in her heart, Amira feared the truth. Kael had become restless. He disappeared during full moons, returning with blood on his hands. Nyra spoke in riddles.

The first light of dawn seeped into the cold stone walls of Eldoria's palace. But the peace it brought was fragile, like a thin veil barely holding back the darkness beneath.

Kael sat alone in the war room, the air heavy with the scent of old parchment and burning candles. Maps were spread out before him, maps of villages burned, routes taken by Varek's forces, and areas where rebels whispered in the night. His mind raced, but his heart was weighed down by a bitter truth: they were fighting not only enemies outside the walls but enemies within.

Nyra entered quietly, her face pale but determined. "Kael, we have to move fast. The traitor's betrayal has shaken the court. People don't trust each other anymore."

Kael looked up. "Do you think they will rise with Varek?"

Nyra shook her head. "Some will. But many still follow the Queen. The problem is the fear in their hearts. Fear is a weapon. Varek knows that."

Kael stood and paced. "We need to find a way to turn that fear into courage."

The door creaked open again. Draven stepped in, his armor stained with dirt and blood. He said, "scouts spotted a group heading toward the northern pass. They carry something, an artifact. They say it holds the power to break the curse."

Kael's eyes narrowed. "If that's true, it could change everything."

Nyra nodded. "But it could also be a trap."

A sudden knock came from the hall. A young messenger bowed and handed Kael a folded letter sealed with crimson wax. The emblem was unfamiliar, qa serpent entwined with a crown.

Kael broke the seal and read quickly.

*"Meet me at the old ruins before nightfall. Alone. I have the answers you seek."*

Kael folded the letter slowly. "This could be the key or the end of us."

Nyra's gaze hardened. "If it's a trap, we walk into it. If it's truth, we cannot ignore it."

The hours passed like shadows stretching over the land. By evening, Kael, Nyra, and Draven prepared to leave. The castle gates opened, and the three slipped into the gathering dusk.

The ruins lay deep within the forest, a place of broken stones and forgotten magic. The trees seemed to close behind them, swallowing their footsteps.

As they reached the center of the ruins, a figure stepped out from the shadows. It was an old woman, her silver hair flowing like a river under the moonlight, her eyes sharp and filled with secrets.

"Welcome, heirs of the bloodline," she said in a voice that seemed to echo from the earth itself. "I am Seris, keeper of the lost knowledge."

Kael stepped forward. "Why have you summoned us?"

Seris smiled faintly. "Because the curse you carry is not just a punishment. It is a promise made long ago-a promise to guard the balance between worlds."

Nyra's eyes narrowed. "We have already heard this. What new truth do you bring?"

Seris raised a hand, revealing an ancient amulet, glowing faintly red. "This is the Heart of Vareth. The key to breaking the curse or binding it forever."

Draven reached for it, but Seris stopped him. "Beware. The power within can corrupt even the purest soul."

Kael took the amulet cautiously. "How do we use it?"

Seris's eyes darkened. "To wield the Heart, you must face the truth inside yourselves. Your greatest fears, your darkest secrets."

Nyra looked at Kael. "Are we ready for that?"

Kael swallowed hard. "We don't have a choice."

Suddenly, a chilling howl tore through the night, followed by the sharp crack of arrows. Shadows moved swiftly through the trees.

"Ambush!" Draven shouted.

The trio drew their weapons, back to back, as figures cloaked in black surrounded them-Varek's Shadow Court.

Seris's calm vanished. She chanted an incantation, and a barrier of glowing runes erupted around them.

The battle was fierce. Arrows whistled, blades clashed, and magic flared in bursts of light and shadow. Kael fought with the strength of the wolf within, each strike fueled by desperation and hope.

In the chaos, Nyra was knocked back, her hand flying to the amulet.

The moment her fingers touched it, the world shifted.

Visions flooded her mind, faces of ancestors, battles lost and won, and a voice that whispered warnings and promises.

Nyra gasped, shaking off the visions. "The Heart... it's alive."

Kael fought closer, cutting down a shadowy figure that lunged for Nyra.

"Hold on!" he yelled, dragging her behind the barrier.

Seris's voice was strained. "The Heart chooses its master. If it falls to Varek, all is lost."

Outside the barrier, the Shadow Court roared in fury, pounding against the glowing shield.

Kael looked at Nyra. "We must take the Heart to the Queen. She is the only one who can break the curse."

Nyra nodded, though her eyes reflected doubt and fear.

The battle stretched on, but the trio escaped the ruins under cover of darkness, hearts pounding, knowing that the real war was just beginning.

Amira clutched the stone necklace around her throat-the only thing she wore since the coronation. A gift from the temple, a symbol of protection.

But tonight, she needed more than symbols.

She needed answers.

That night, dressed in a dark robe, Amira slipped past the palace gates. She walked deep into the forest beyond the city walls. Past the guardian trees, past the howling stones , to the Forbidden Grove.

The wind howled through twisted trees. The moon was a blood red sickle.

She reached the heart of the grove-an altar made of bone-white stone. The air smelled of ash and flowers long dead.

Amira knelt.

"Spirits of this land," she whispered. "I am your daughter. I ask for your help."

There was silence.

Then the wind stopped. The grove grew cold. A low voice, not of this world, filled the space.

**"What do you offer?"**

"I offer my blood," Amira said, drawing a blade across her palm.

The blood hit the stone, glowing like fire.

**"Then let it be done."**

A blinding light erupted from the altar, and Amira screamed, she felt the pain through her body, then vanished. The wind returned. The trees stood still.

But something had changed.

The curse had awakened

A cold wind was felt through the ancient pass that led to the mountains. The forest had thinned, giving way to blackened trees that looked more like twisted bones than living things.

Prince Draven stood at the edge of the cliff, breathing heavily with his eyes fixed on the jagged peaks ahead. The air was thick with silence, but deep beneath it, he could hear something, an old sound, a familiar call. A howl that echoed from the bones of the earth.

He wasn't alone anymore.

"Draven," a whisper came from behind. Nyra.

He turned slowly. She had followed him, though he had tried to escape all of them. The weight of what he was becoming was too great. The beast in him had grown wild, untamed. But Nyra's eyes glowed not with fear, but sorrow.

"You shouldn't be here," Draven said. His voice was harsh.

Nyra stepped closer. "Neither should you."

The wind howled louder, and in that moment, the sky above the mountain cracked with a sudden flash of lightning. Thunder followed. The mountain was waking.

Nyra reached out. "The old witch who helped me in the forest... she warned me about this place. She said something sleeps here, something that shouldn't be disturbed."

Draven looked up at the peaks. "I've felt it. Every night since the curse started changing me. It pulls me here. I don't know what it is... but it knows me."

A gust of wind forced them to steady themselves. Nyra's eyes narrowed.

"Maybe that's what Varek wants. Maybe the thing beneath this mountain is what he's after. The gods poisoned by hatred. The same force that corrupted our bloodline."

Draven didn't answer. Instead, he began walking. Nyra followed, and together they descended into the mountain's shadow.

Back at the palace, Queen Amira sat alone in her chamber. Her face pale, her strength fading. The blood oath was feeding on her. Every night the visions became stronger. Her children in danger. The land tearing itself apart. And now, the whispers of war. Varek's influence spreads further than she had feared.

A knock on the door. High Priestess Lirien entered, her expression grim.

"They've gone to the mountains," she said. "Nyra and Draven."

Amira's chest tightened. "No..."

"They seek the truth of the curse," Lirien continued. "But they walk into a place that was sealed by the gods themselves. There are ancient things in the mountain. Spirits of the first wolves, witches turned to ash by betrayal. It is no place for children of a cursed line."

Amira stood, swaying from weakness. "Then we must follow them."

Lirien frowned. "You are too weak."

"I am their mother," she replied. "And I will not lose them to the past."

As Nyra and Draven entered a narrow cave, the air shifted. A heavy magic clung to the walls like mist. The stone glowed faintly, etched with runes older than any they had seen. Nyra touched one and felt a sharp jolt in her mind, visions, voices, cries from centuries past.

"Do you feel that?" she whispered.

Draven nodded. "It's like... the mountain is alive."

They moved deeper, guided by flickering torches that seemed to light themselves. Soon, they came upon a chamber, round and vast, with a stone altar in its center. Around the altar were skeletal remains, dozens of them, dressed in torn robes of both witches and warriors. It was a burial ground. Or a prison.

And carved into the wall above the altar were five symbols.

Wolf. Moon. Crown. Fire. Shadow.

Nyra's eyes widened. "These are the marks of the gods."

Draven stepped closer. "What is this place?"

Suddenly, the runes on the wall glowed bright red. The ground shook. A sound like a thousand wolves howling at once filled the chamber. The door behind them slammed shut.

And then, from the altar, a figure began to rise.

Its body was made of smoke and bone. Its eyes glowed like dying stars. When it spoke, it sounded like dozens of voices echoing at once.

**"Blood of the crown... cursed and divine. You come seeking truth. But truth demands sacrifice."**

Nyra stood firm. "Who are you?"

**"We are what remains of the gods you betrayed. Your blood is our prison. And your pain is our freedom."**

Draven growled, the beast inside him rising. "We didn't betray anyone."

**"Your ancestor did. The pact was broken. And the land was wounded. That wound is you."**

The figure raised its hand and shadows burst from the walls, wrapping around Draven, pinning him to the floor. Nyra screamed and stepped forward, her hands glowing with violet fire.

"Let him go!"

**"He is part of the curse. As are you. But you... are more."**

Nyra's fire flared, breaking through the shadows. She reached Draven and held his hand. The power between them pulsed, and for a moment, the mountain seemed to calm.

But then the figure hissed.

**"You will return. When the blood moon rises. And you will choose, life or balance. One must be given for the other to survive."**

The chamber began to collapse. The walls cracked, and rock fell from above. Draven grabbed Nyra and they ran toward the newly opened passage. Behind them, the altar shattered into dust.

---

Outside the mountain, Queen Amira and Lirien had arrived. The storm had grown stronger, and Amira could barely stand. But when she saw her children emerge, covered in dirt and blood, something in her broke.

Nyra collapsed in her arms.

"There's something in there," she whispered. "Something ancient... something that knows us."

Draven sat nearby, silent and shaking. His eyes had changed-brighter, more wild.

Amira looked to Lirien. "They've seen it. They know."

Lirien nodded. "Then it begins."

Far across the kingdom, in the ruined temple of the old gods, Elder Varek watched a pool of black water. His eyes glowed red. Around him, the Shadow Court chanted. The air was thick with smoke and magic.

He had seen everything. Nyra. Draven. The mountain.

"They are closer than I thought," he murmured.

A figure stepped from the shadows. It was one of his spies, a young girl with hollow eyes.

"My lord," she said, bowing. "Should we prepare the ritual?"

Varek's mouth twisted into a smile.

"No. Let them come. Let them believe they have a choice. It will make their fall even sweeter."

He stepped closer to the pool. The image of the mountain faded, replaced by the face of Queen Amira.

"You made the oath," he whispered. "And now your children will pay the price."

The water turned red.

Later that night, as the royal family returned to the palace, something had changed. Draven no longer looked restless, he looked haunted. Nyra barely spoke, and when she did, it was only about the choice the gods had given.

Life or balance.

The blood moon was only days away.

Kael waited at the gates when they returned. His eyes widened when he saw his siblings.

"What happened?" he asked.

Nyra looked up, her voice quiet.

"The gods aren't just watching. They're waiting."

Draven added, "And they want one of us dead."

The silence that followed settled like a weight none of them could lift.

And in the sky, hidden behind the clouds, the blood moon began to rise.

Back in the palace, Kael sat in the tower window, eyes glowing gold under the moon. His hand shook as he held it out and a flame danced across his fingertips.

Nyra, sitting beside him, closed her eyes.

"They will call us demons," she whispered. "The Howlers."

Kael clenched his jaw.

"Let them."

Down below, Draven crawled under his bed, growling to himself, eyes burning bright yellow.

Far beyond the walls, across the cursed mountains, Elder Varek stood before a dark altar. He crushed the message in his hand.

"So," he whispered, with a wicked smile , "the Queen has finally bled."

Behind him, dozens of shadowed figures knelt.

The Shadow Court had returned.

End of Chapter 1