Rising From Exile: The Dragonless Queen

Chapter 5

Word Count: 700 | Released on: Today at 15:38

shattered main gates. They were a pathetic sight-once-proud nobles now wear

ains. Next to them was a broad-shouldered young man with raw, split knuckles-my brother, Owen. Huddled behind them were Aunt Jean

nding the warm bowl of c

Tears spilled over her lashes, carving clean lines through the dirt on her face. "My daughter... you sho

rd me. "Eat, Katia. You need your strength. I'll make sure you don't starve on

life, I was an orphan fighting for every scrap in a cold, indifferent world. Here, these strange

mall, reassuring smile. "Finish it. We have a long

th a mixture of sorrow and pride. "The blood of the Holland

's towering basalt gates faded behind us, replaced by the unforgiving, compacted gravel

w sacks of flour, and some thick wool pelts, all loaded onto a small, rickety woode

, ready to pull the weight myself

ing the heavy harness over his broad chest. The coa

cart. Aunt Jean and Uncle Joseph joined in, straining against the ropes. These were people who had never done a day of

the sky in bruised shades of purple and black. The temperature plummeted, the bi

ked gasp broke the rhy

self against the cart, but his legs gave out entirely. H

dropping the harness an

ic, fluttering like a dying bird. His skin was radiating a terrifying, furnace-like hea

during his interrogation, had torn open during the grueling march. T

tream. In this primitive world, without moder

Chapter End

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Rising From Exile: The Dragonless Queen

Diversion Fantasy

“I was reincarnated into a brutal world ruled by dragons as a "Dragonless" outcast, only to finally reunite with my biological noble family. But the very day I was brought home, my family was framed for treason and sentenced to a lethal exile in the frozen north. The fake daughter who stole my life for seventeen years mocked us, abandoning our name to join the enemies who orchestrated our downfall. During the brutal death march, I relied on my secret spatial storage and modern medical knowledge to keep my family alive. I cured my father's rotting whip wounds, protected my brother from sadistic guards, and finally secured a warm meal and a moment of peace for our exhausted camp. We thought we had survived the worst of the royal purge. But just as we let our guard down, my father, brother, and all the men in our bloodline suddenly collapsed, violently choking on black blood and foaming at the mouth. I was completely stunned. The lethal nerve toxin wasn't in the main cooking pot that the women and children ate from. It was slipped directly into the men's individual bowls. The poison didn't come from the cruel guards or the royal inquisitors. It came from someone sitting right beside our own campfire. There is a traitor hiding among my closest family members, and I swear I will drag them out of the shadows.”