The storm had passed, but inside the halls of Valemere Castle, thunder still raged.
In a grand chamber lined with red stone pillars and golden torches, Lord Sono Noctis stood, his face twisted with rage. The marble floor glistened with spilled wine as he hurled another goblet across the room, its silver rim clanging against the wall before it shattered into pieces. The banners of the Noctis line black silk with the silver crescent moon hung above him, watching silently as if mocking his defeat.
He should have been king.
It was his right brother to the late Emperor, seasoned in war, respected by generals. Yet the throne had been handed not to him, but to a child barely able to read her own decrees. A five-year-old girl.
Sono's breath came ragged, his thick beard damp with sweat. He wore his ceremonial robes, still unfastened from the rushed coronation earlier that day: layered white linen beneath a heavy mantle of crimson wool, fastened with a golden clasp in the shape of a lion's head. He looked every inch a ruler… except he was not.
"Why?!" His roar echoed through the chamber as he slammed his fists against the arm of the throne he dared not sit upon. "Why give it to a child? To her? What madness is this?"
From the cushioned seat beside him, a soft laugh answered.
His wife, Lady Yena, reclined on a couch draped in purple silk. Jewels glittered on her slender fingers as she lazily sipped from her goblet, her lips curving into an arrogant smile. She was dressed in the fashion of the court long flowing garments of pale linen, her hair braided and pinned with bronze clasps shaped like serpents. The faint scent of spiced oil clung to her skin, a mark of wealth only the highest houses could afford.
"Because, dear husband," she said, her voice dripping with amusement, "you were too obvious. Too eager. The council feared your ambition more than they feared a child. A child can be molded. Controlled. Replaced."
Sono turned on her, eyes blazing. "You dare mock me, Yena? You think I should bow to an infant?"
Yena only tilted her head, her dark eyes gleaming. "Why bow when you can break her?"
The words slithered into the air like poison.
Sono froze. His fists clenched, trembling with anger. "Do not speak such madness."
"Madness?" Yena laughed, a sound as smooth as honey and sharp as glass. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her jeweled hand. "She is five years old, Sono. Five. What does a child know of ruling? Of danger? It would be the simplest thing in the world to remove her. A drop of poison in her milk, a pinch in her bread, and the kingdom will mourn while you step forward as the only rightful heir."
Her smile widened, cruel and certain. "So simple, even the gods will not bother to notice."
Sono's chest heaved, fury twisting with fear. He could feel sweat dripping down his temple, but his voice thundered back: "Fool! To poison the Empress is to bring death upon us all. Do you think Orrun will not see? What kind of Stupid plan is that? Do you think the council will not whisper? They will burn us alive before the sun sets!"
But Yena did not flinch. She swirled the wine in her goblet, watching the crimson liquid catch the torchlight. "Then let them whisper. You hold power, my husband. High position in the court. Generals respect you, nobles fear you. If someone suspects…"
Her lips curved in a mocking smile. "You need only point at me. Let them blame the ambitious wife, not the grieving brother."
Sono's breath caught. His rage faltered, giving way to unease. For a heartbeat, the storm of his fury stilled.
Yena's smile was victorious. She leaned back on her couch, silk flowing around her like the coils of a serpent, and whispered:
"Kill her. Before she learns to kill you."
The chamber fell silent, save for the distant howl of wind against the castle walls.
Sono's jaw tightened. His hands trembled not from fear, but from the weight of a choice that could shape the fate of Valemere itself.
Sono leaned back on the cold chair, his jaw stiff. "I want the plan done now."
Yena raised a brow, her jeweled veil trembling as she tilted her head. "Why hurry? That would be too suspicious." Her voice had that mocking silkiness, a half-smile tugging at her lips.
Sono slammed his palm against the armrest. "That is the reason! If it happens too soon, if the child Empress dies the moment she sits the throne, who will the people suspect? Me? Perhaps. But what then? They will also believe it could be the work of an enemy someone who wants to strike down the royals one by one. When she is gone and I remain, We will hire someone who will fake assasinating me, let them think I was hunted, let them believe I barely survived endless assassins." His eyes burned, fevered with cunning. "Then suspicion will scatter like sand. The world will whisper not of my guilt but of traitors hidden within the walls."
Yena chuckled, low and amused, her fingers gliding over the rim of her golden goblet. "Not a bad game you play, husband. To cloak the poison with the illusion of chaos yes, the court will chase shadows."
Sono leaned closer, his black hair falling across his brow. "Then you will be the one to deliver the soup. The poison must be strong, untraceable. She must never draw breath again."
Yena's smile sharpened, cruel as a dagger's edge. "As you wish, my lord. If you wish the child to taste death from my hands… so be it."
The torches in the chamber hissed, shadows bending against the stone walls as though even the fire itself shrank from their scheme.
The grand doors groaned open, tall and heavy as if guarding a sacred treasure. Yena entered with an elegant stride, her gown swaying like a serpent's tail as she approached. The chamber was vast, the walls carved with ancient motifs of suns and storms, but in the center, on a throne draped with silver and obsidian silk, sat the empress.
Lilith.
Her beauty struck like lightning. Even with the simplicity of her youth, it bore the weight of divinity. Her hair was midnight black, but not dull each strand gleamed faintly as though kissed by the night sky. Her skin was pale and flawless, almost ethereal, as if sculpted from marble and warmed by moonlight. Her lips were the color of crushed roses, sharp in contrast to her fairness. Her face delicate yet unyielding was not that of a child, but of a being the gods themselves would envy.
Her attire was no less commanding. A gown of deep violet velvet, embroidered with silver threads that shimmered like starlight, cascaded down her small frame. Around her shoulders rested a cloak of white fur, a symbol of sovereignty, the purest white clashing against her obsidian hair. On her head, no heavy crown weighed her down only a thin silver circlet, a subtle declaration of both innocence and authority.
Yena clenched her teeth behind a smile, her envy festering like rot.
"Your Majesty," Yena cooed, her voice sugar-laced, "so young, and already bearing the weight of an empire… how I worry for you." She sat gracefully beside the empress, her words dripping with false care.
But Lilith did not turn. Her gaze was fixed on the towering windows, where storm clouds gathered like an omen, their shadows crawling over her face. She sat unmoving, like a statue carved from silence itself.
Yena's irritation flared. Arrogant child.
Breaking the quiet, Yena slid forward a bowl of steaming soup, the aroma rich and deceptive. Her smile bloomed wider, false as painted gold. "I had this prepared for you, Empress. It will warm you, heal you… make you stronger."
At last, Lilith's head shifted. Slowly. Too slowly.
Her eyes violet, glowing faintly like amethyst catching fire met Yena's. They were not the eyes of a girl. They were ancient, unblinking, piercing through marrow and soul.
Her lips parted, her voice spilling out low, calm, and silken yet sharp, every word coiled with authority far beyond her years:
"Why don't you drink it?"
Yena froze. Her heart thrashed like a drum inside her ribs. "I-I brought it for you, Majesty…"
Lilith's gaze sharpened, her words falling with the weight of thunder.
"Do you take me for an idiot?"
The air thickened. The chamber's silence pressed against Yena's chest. Lilith leaned forward slightly, her tone a blade hidden in velvet.
"In this family… the word worry is not kindness. It is a mask. A chain. A lie. Next time, choose your words more wisely."
Yena's throat tightened, her feigned composure breaking. Her breath came shallow, her pulse loud in her ears. But before she could stammer another excuse her vision blurred, black creeping at the edges. Her body collapsed soundlessly onto the cold marble floor.
The empress did not move. She sat still, her violet eyes returning to the storm outside, as though the fall of Yena was nothing but another shadow in her empire.