Just as the guards moved to take the family away, a servant burst into the court, breathless and panicked. "Your Highness!" he cried, falling to one knee. "It's the Queen — she's fallen ill. She needs you immediately."
The king's expression shifted from stern resolve to alarm. Without another word, he turned and followed the servant through the palace halls.
They entered the royal chamber.
The queen lay on her bed, motionless. Her face had gone pale as snow, and her lips were a deep, unnatural blue. Around her stood the palace doctors, solemn and speechless.
One of them stepped forward, bowing low. "Your Majesty… we've examined her thoroughly. We don't understand. There are no wounds. No signs of poison or fever. It is as if… something unseen is draining her life."
The king's hands trembled as he reached for his wife's cold fingers. Her chest rose and fell with shallow, struggling breaths.
He turned to the doctors, voice cracking with fear. "You must do something. Save her!"
But they said nothing.
And in that silence, the king felt the weight of a new fear—not just for the queen… but for something much deeper, and darker, awakening in his kingdom.
(To be continued...)