Charlotte sat motionless before her mother's lifeless body.
Isabella lay on the bed, face peaceful in death, while Charlotte's eyes stared ahead with a hollow emptiness—as if her entire world had caved in. Her small hands trembled in her lap, but she didn't move, didn't cry.
She just… stared.
Ominous energy seeped out of her body in slow, pulsing waves, coiling around the room like smoke. The aura was so suffocating that even the palace servants, waiting fearfully outside the door, didn't dare step in.
Then they all felt it.
Her aura suddenly spiked—surging to a level no child should possess.
"O-One of you, contact His Majesty right now!" a servant stammered. "This is… this is not normal. Only he can calm her down!"
They scattered in panic, running through the palace corridors to reach Edward, who was away in a meeting with other monarchs.
Inside the room, Charlotte's shoulders began to shake.
Not from sobbing.
From laughter.
It started low, then rose.
