"They thought we had been erased.
But beneath the ground, we were alive.
They sowed fear.
And fear took root.
Today, we rise.
Not with weapons.
But with our names.
And our voices, unmastered."
SCENE 1: The Watching Child
Feulène's South Quarter still bore the scars of the last revolt.
Cracked walls, blackened by the flames of a forgotten war.
Shattered rooftops, half-rebuilt with scraps and mud.
Streets too narrow for imperial carriages, but always walked by the people's feet.
Sérenya walked there without an escort.
Kamintha led the way quietly, her face wrapped in a shawl.
A "humanitarian mission," according to the Council.
But she knew better.
- They want me to see. To stay silent. To witness what happens to those who rise wrong.
The ruins greeted her.
The stones still spoke of what had been done to them.
And the eyes.
Those eyes you can't always meet.
Children. Elders. Women with callused hands.
No one shouted.
But everyone saw.
They arrived at an empty square.
At its center, a circle of stones.
No official sculpture.
No monument.
Just a memory, improvised.
An old man stepped forward.
His tunic was gray with ash. In his hands, a smooth, round, white stone.
- Queen. You came.
She didn't answer. She waited.
He placed the stone on the ground.
Then a woman followed. Then a child. Then ten more.
Raised stones.
Each with a word carved on it. A name. A date. A simple dot.
Sérenya knelt.
One stone read: "Kola, 14, killed for singing."
Another: "Mother, burned with her prayer."
A final one: "We are still here."
Her throat tightened.
But she didn't cry.
She knelt.
Found a stone, the smoothest, barest one.
Took a small knife from her pocket. And carved, slowly:
- I hear you.
Then placed it in the center of the circle.
And the child who had been watching at the edge of the square, a boy with clear eyes and a dirty bandage on his temple stepped forward.
He placed a stone of his own. No word.
Then reached out his hand to Sérenya.
She took it.
And in that touch... she understood the people didn't wait for her as a queen.
They waited for her as a witness.
She stood up.
The wind rose lightly, lifting the dust.
And in that wind, she almost heard a voice:
"We are the stones they could not break."
SCENE 2: The Inverted Prayer
The imperial chapel was empty.
Or rather... contained. As if it were holding in its own echoes, refusing to spill into the outside world.
A cage of golden silence.
The walls were covered in frescoes. Haloed emperors. Sanctified soldiers. Kneeling queens.
Always kneeling.
At the center, the altar.
White marble. Etched gold.
Around it, twelve columns: one for each noble House.
And on the ceiling, an enormous eye. The Eye of the Law.
Sérenya entered. Alone.
No ceremonial robe.
No jewelry.
Just a dark linen tunic, and a mourning band in her hair.
But it wasn't her mourning.
It belonged to the people.
The kind no official prayer had ever recognized.
She walked to the center.
And there, instead of kneeling before the altar, she knelt with her back to it.
A grave offense.
A ritual betrayal.
But she didn't care.
She closed her eyes.
And spoke, in her mother tongue:
"Andrian'i rano,
O breath of the sea,
May your salt awaken what power puts to sleep.
May my voice pass through walls.
May my dead settle here,
Not for revenge,
But to exist."
Silence twisted around her.
As if the stones were listening, unwilling to admit it.
She lifted her palms to the sky.
Not to receive.
But to give.
And that's when she felt a presence.
Someone was watching.
She didn't open her eyes. She didn't need to.
Lady Mohaina.
Silent. Hidden in the shadow of a column.
- You pray... backwards.
- I pray where my conscience stands. And it no longer lives behind your altars.
Mohaina stepped forward, her movements sliding like shadows.
- The Council is watching, Queen. You mustn't pull too hard on the roots. Some hold the whole Empire together.
Sérenya stood.
Calm. But her eyes burned.
- Then maybe it's time we learn what grows at the end of those roots. Maybe it's poison. Maybe it's our dead.
Mohaina stared at her, long, straight, glacial.
- You still don't understand. Power doesn't fear fire. It fears memory.
- Then I'll be memory. And flame.
She stepped close to Mohaina. Very close.
- And you? What will you be, when official prayers no longer drown the screams?
She left.
And behind her, silence closed again.
But this time, it had trembled.
SCENE 3: The Drums Beneath the Stone
The next day, Sérenya woke up before dawn.
The silence in the palace felt... different.
It was no longer cold.
It vibrated.
A light rhythm, almost inaudible, but steady.
DUM. DUM. DUM.
Like a heartbeat.
Like a drum.
Beneath the stones.
She went outside. Barefoot. She crossed the empty corridors.
Each step brought her closer to that buzzing coming from below.
She recognized the direction: the servants' quarters.
When she arrived in the lower kitchens, everything was in place. Clean. Silent.
But there too... the floor vibrated.
She crouched down. Touc... touc...
She pressed her hand against the tile.
Someone was knocking underneath.
A signal. A language. A call.
Suddenly, a sound behind her.
A figure emerged from the shadows. A young boy.
Wide eyes. Hands stained with ash.
- Do you hear it? he asked.
- What is it?
- They say it's the forgotten. The wall washers. The salt carriers. Those who were never seen. They drum to say: "We're still here.'"
- How long?
- Three days. And every night... there are more of them.
She stood up and looked at him.
- What's your name?
- I wasn't given one. They call me 'the little one.'
She knelt down.
Placed a hand on his chest.
- Then I'll give you one. Your heart beats strong. Like the sea when it wants to speak. You will be called Voany. It means: "the one who announces."
The boy smiled.
And beneath their feet, the drums continued.
SCENE 4: The Staircase of Tears
Sérenya climbed the stairs of the East Tower.
A rarely used place, lost between two wings of the palace.
A place people said led nowhere... or listened.
On every step, she read inscriptions barely visible, carved into the stone.
Names.
Dates.
Simple words:
"Anaïs, 1359, Not forgotten"
"Loved, wept, held on"
"Silence passed down"
She understood:
Women had walked here before her.
Servants. Queens. Spies.
They had cried without sound.
But they left traces.
At the very top, she found an empty room.
Just a table. A lamp. And a cracked mirror.
On the mirror, a phrase was engraved:
"What you see, they want to break. But if you look long enough... it is they who will break."
She stayed there for a long moment.
Still.
Present.
Alive.
And in that broken mirror, for the first time, she saw herself whole.
SCENE 5: The Necklace of the Ancestor
That day, Kamintha gave her a black velvet box.
- It belonged to her.
- To who?
- The one before. The one they made disappear without naming. But who spoke like you.
Sérenya opened it.
A necklace. Simple volcanic stones, matte. No shine.
But at the center, an ivory pearl engraved with one word:
"Aminay" ("We are.")
- She wore this at her secret audiences. She spoke to mothers. To sons of servants. To scribes without permission. She built an underground empire.
- And they killed her for that.
Kamintha nodded.
- No. Not killed. Made invisible. Worse than death.
Sérenya took the necklace. Fastened it around her neck.
- Then I will make it visible. I will make it alive.
She walked to the south balcony.
And there, in front of the workers' quarters, she leaned out.
The necklace around her neck. The wind in her hair.
A cry rose up.
Not a crowd's cry.
A deep chant, coming from far away.
Voices. One by one. One by one.
And Sérenya understood:
The sea was speaking again. But through them.
SCENE 6: The Awakening of Voices
At dawn, Sérenya awoke with the strange feeling that she'd been watched all night.
She opened the windows.
No sound. No song.
But a paper, rolled and slipped under her door.
She picked it up.
"The stones have spoken. It's time to listen to the voices. In the underground, the people's language still beats.Come alone. Tonight. Where the marble sweats."
At the bottom of the message: a circle pierced by a line.
The symbol of the erased insurgents.
She said nothing to Kamintha.
Asked no permission.
She put on a plain dress, tied her hair, and left with no escort.
She walked through the lower galleries of the Palace.
Under the arches. Toward the abandoned granaries.
To the old cistern, near the garden of broken statues.
One stone was out of place.
She went down.
The light was dim, but the voices were waiting.
Five people. Five strangers.
Not nobles.
Not spies.
Ordinary folk. And in their eyes: the memory of fire.
A woman spoke, her voice rough:
-Queen... you're not the first to come looking for us.But you're the first we don't need to warn.
- Why now? Sérenya asked.
- Because you don't speak in their name. You speak for yourself. And that... that's dangerous. And necessary.
An old man with tattooed fingers added:
- If you want to keep going, you'll have to choose.You can't stay in the middle. You'll have to say who you burn for.
Sérenya looked at each of them.
- Then burn me. But make me a torch, not a martyr.
Silence. Then a smile.
And the woman said:
- Tonight, you've entered the Vault. From now on, you will never walk alone again.
SCENE 7: The Children of Salt
Kamintha was waiting when she returned.
She said nothing. But her gaze spoke.
- You went down.
- Yes.
- And now?
- Now, I'm no longer a shadow.
Kamintha held out a small clay jar.
Inside: black salt. A rare kind, from the southern islands.
Once used in rites to name lost children.
- It's the only salt that doesn't dissolve in water. It stays. It scrapes. It remembers.
Sérenya took it. Sprinkled a pinch into her palm.
- They made me a statue. I will become ground. Earth.
She opened a chest. Pulled out an old cloth, embroidered with Tsaravinian patterns.
And with the salt, she traced an ancestral word:
"Mira" ("She who watches over.")
She hung it at her window.
The winds would carry it.
And those who were waiting would understand:
The Queen is watching.
SCENE 8: Sylus's Empty Hands
He entered without knocking.
Sylus. Eyes tired, coat open, hands... empty.
- They say you speak to shadows.
- And you? You don't speak to them, but you belong to them.
- I belong to what I no longer understand.
He stepped closer. Hesitant.
- I saw your message. I know what the necklace means.
- Then why are you still here? Why do you say nothing when they tear me apart in silence?
He said nothing. Took her hands. Slowly.
- I didn't know how to defend you. Because I didn't know who I was anymore.
- And now?
- Now, I want to learn from you. Not to lead you. To follow.
She looked at him.
- Then walk. But know this: I no longer walk to be loved.
- I walk so I no longer have to be afraid.
They stood there, facing each other.
And in the silence, this time...
there was a beginning.
SCENE 9: The Mirror of Blood
That night, Sérenya did not sleep.
She lit every lamp in her room.
Pulled out the broken mirror she had brought back from the East Tower.
She placed it on the floor.
Sat down in front of it.
And stared.
For a long time.
Her face, fragmented. Her reflection shattered.
She took a white chalk.
And on each shard of mirror, she wrote a word:
"Silence. Exile. Fear. Memory. Fire. Earth. Name. Forgetting. Sea. Mother."
Then, she stopped.
On the final shard, she wrote:
"Me."
And then... her reflection came together.
Not perfect.
But whole.
A sound. Behind the door. A letter, slipped in.
"Tomorrow, they will vote. For your banishment or your submission.
Half the Council wavers. The other half resists.
And a name already circulates: Mohaina, Regent Queen."
She remained still.
Then stood.
- Let them vote. I walk. And this ground, from now on... is mine.
SCENE 10: The Red Declaration
The Council had gathered in full, in the Hall of Balance.
A dome of white stone, polished like bone.
At its center, a round table. No head. No throne.
They liked to say they judged as equals.
But that morning, the Queen had asked to speak.
Sylus was there. Silent. Neutral. Present, but without voting rights.
Sérenya entered, dressed in red.
Not festive red.
A deep, dark red.
The red of ancient blood, like a scream sewn into fabric.
They all stared.
She did not bow. Did not greet.
She spoke.
- You asked who I speak for. You questioned my loyalty. My submission.
And today, you think you can decide: banish me, break me, force me to bend.
Then listen closely.
Because this is the last time you will decide for me.
A murmur. Shifting seats.
I'm not a Queen waiting to be accepted. I am the one who walks,
who listens, who carves. I've met the raised stones. I've heard the voices.
And I understood:
My throne is not here. It's in every hand that gave me a name.
She stepped forward.
Took a handful of black salt from her pocket.
Let it fall to the ground, slowly, in a circle.
You've sown fear. I saw memory.
Then, she turned on her heels.
And without waiting for the Council's answer...
she walked out.
SCENE 11: The Burned Threshold
That evening, in her chambers, Sérenya burned a braid of hair.
Not hers.
The former queen's. Kept by Kamintha in a lacquered box.
- Why now? Kamintha asked.
- Because she was never given a burial. I offer her one now.
In fire, she will no longer be forgotten.
The smoke rose, soft, bitter, dense.
It filled the room, wrapped the walls, the mirrors, the tapestries.
- They want to extinguish me. But they've lit me instead.
She walked to the door. Opened it. Slowly.
At the threshold, she stopped.
- This is where I stand, Kamintha.
No longer in their halls. Not yet in their streets. But exactly in between.
At the threshold. And this threshold "I burn it."
She threw the last embers outside.
And at last, the night seemed to retreat.
SCENE 12: The Raised Stones
At dawn, Sérenya stepped outside.
Not through the Palace corridors.
Not for a Council.
Not for a ritual.
But toward the Southern quarter. Where the voices lived.
She walked, simple dress, hair unbound.
No crown.
Just a necklace of black salt.
And a flat stone in her hands.
When she reached the square, they were waiting.
Dozens. Then hundreds.
Silent.
And at the center of the circle, Voany, the boy with the scarred temple placed a new stone.
Then stepped back.
Sérenya entered the circle.
Knelt.
And carved, for all to see:
"I hear you. And I speak to you. Now."
She stood up.
And without shouting, without raising her voice, she said:
- You called me. Not to rule. Not to dominate. But to bear witness.
I came. And I remain. Not above you. But with you.
Until this ground carries us all. Or crumbles.
And one by one, they placed a stone.
Each one with a name. A phrase. A word.
And the circle grew.
And the voices, in silence, lifted the world.
Late that night, Sérenya received a second message.
This time, embroidered on fabric.
No ink. No name.
Just fine stitching, like a thread of wind:
"If you want to walk with us... prepare to disappear.
Fire begins under the skin. And the sea does not forgive twice."
At the bottom of the cloth, a new symbol:
An hourglass, overturned.
Time had just reversed.
To be continued: CHAPTER 8 Salt and Thorn
"They thought she was tamed.
Now she enters the forbidden zones.
And behind every door... a secret that can no longer be buried."