Melantha's horse galloped down the muddy road like an arrow loosed from its bow. The wind clawed at her cheeks, and yet she felt nothing. Her hands gripped the reins so tightly her knuckles turned white, but she barely noticed.
Her chest ached with each breath.
This couldn't be real, she thought.
Rosewyn was a peaceful kingdom. Never involved in wars — not even as an ally. They offered trade in exchange for peace, not weapons. And gold, not blood.
But now... They were still attacked!
"Hurry!" She screamed.
"Slow down princess!" Ysara called behind her.
Melantha ignored Ysara's calls and continued toward the capital. As she got closer, a cloud of smoke stained the sky ahead.
The horse whinnied violently as Melantha yanked the reins. The animal reared — and she was thrown, hitting the ground hard, her back striking rock, but the pain vanished the moment her eyes rose.
Veleria was in flames.
Towering pillars of smoke curled above the castle walls. Screams echoed faintly from afar.
"Princess!"
Ysara rushed to her side and helped her to her feet, but Melantha's legs felt hollow.
She could hardly hear her maid's voice. All she could hear was a whisper in her head:
Go. Go. Find them. Find your family.
"My lady, we mustn't go. It's too dangerous—"
"No," Melantha breathed. "My parent and Rhael are still there. I have to see them," she said, as if not believing what she saw.
Ysara gripped her hands, stroking them gently. "We don't know if they're alive," Ysara murmured, her eyes glistening.
"They are!" Melantha shouted, then turned, storming toward a narrow, overgrown trail to the castle's edge from a secret way called the broken path. She often used it to escape court duties and ride freely through the fields of Fellemere.
Upon arriving at the castle's edge, Melantha's heart was in turmoil.
They crept through the hidden passage in silence. Dirt clung to their dresses, and dust rose with every step. The deeper they walked, the stronger the smell of blood became, and the clearer the sound of screams echoed.
Melantha clutched her dress like a lifeline, dragging her feet forward. Her steps slowed down. Her heart raced. Tears blurred her vision. Fear coiled in her chest.
Please, be safe.
I should've been here from the start.
I should've listened to Mother's warnings.
I was supposed to teach Rhael politics and law.
I still had to ride with my father.
I need to apologise to my mother for worrying her too much.
She stopped, swallowing hard. Her knees almost gave out.
"Princess..." Ysara whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder.
Melantha composed what was left of her courage, nodded, and then walked ahead. They emerged into the outer hall of the castle. And froze.
Blood slicked the marble floors.
Guards lay collapsed near shattered vases and broken trays. Servants crumpled near the stairwells.
The air stank of death.
Melantha staggered, bile rising in her throat — but she forced herself to stay upright. They kept low, inching along the hidden wall until they reached a narrow viewpoint into the throne room.
But the enemy's knights caught her, dragged her to the outside with the other captors. Melantha saw Maelle in the crowd. Many burly, intimidating knights clad in iron armour guard them. Their swords were drenched with blood.
Footsteps got their attention, and Melantha's body trembled seeing her family being dragged over.
Her father, the king of Rosewyn, was bruised beyond recognition. One eye swollen shut, his mouth smeared with blood. His once-regal hair matted with dirt. Her mother, pale as paper, clung to her little brother, Rhael, barely fifteen. They were forced to kneel.
Melantha's heart nearly stopped.
There she saw him.
His steel-grey armour shone like a spear of light. His cloak was black, threaded with gold — a mark of royalty. A long sword rested in his hand; its hilt carved with the sigil of a wolf while its stealth wept blood. Only his piercing grey eyes appeared from his helmet. He stood there in a regal way that sent a chill through her body. Around him, the remaining knights stood silent and still.
"Your king offered his life in exchange for yours," the prince said calmly, pointing the sword at King Thalen's throat.
"But I see no value in the bargain."
He swung his sword in one fast motion that even the air was sliced.
The king dropped with his bloodied body.
The time stopped for a blink. Melantha choked in her own breath— her maids, Ysara and Maelle, gripped her shoulders.
Screams around her erupted. Horror colored the place.
First, her father. Then her mother. And then her brother.
Melantha's world fell apart in three heartbeats. Melantha's lungs burned, unable to make a sound. She couldn't breathe. She could hear the scream… her mother and brother's screams… Her hands flew to her ears, but it was too late — the sound was already inside her.
"Princess," Ysara whispered through her own tears. "You cannot break now."
Melantha curled inward, hands over her ears, face pale with terror. She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
"I was told there is a princess, too," the cold voice spoke again.
"Where is she?"
Knights turned to the prisoners — servants, cooks, guards, anyone still breathing.
"Where is your princess?"
No one answered. The first to hesitate was cut down.
Melantha stirred. She wanted to stand up. To reveal herself. But her body wouldn't obey. She wanted to go with her family too.
"If you reveal yourself, no one will be killed again," the man suggested.
As Melantha was about to stand, she felt a shadow passing by her.
And then — a whisper.
"It is me."
Ysara spoke.
Melantha's head closed up in disbelief. She raised her hand to stop Ysara, but Maelle held her down, tears falling silently.
"Are you the princess?" one knight asked.
"See this," Ysara replied, holding out a delicate flower ring — the sigil worn only by the royal family of Rosewyn.
"Kill her," he verdicted.