Chapter 1

Fia groaned as she woke up from a vivid dream. A strong smell of incense perverted her nose, confirming that she had returned to the castle’s room. It was not lavish by any means: gold and jewelry were absent from past plundering. However, the noble atmosphere bothered her, as she was long accustomed to the streets of beggars and the bloody battlefield. When she felt the fragile texture of her silk gown, she missed her leather armor. The chaos felt more familiar than her “home,” Tiw. It was one of the seven city-states, self-proclaimed as the Seven Kingdoms. Solis had fallen into depravity, but the other six still remained.

Fia massaged her temple. She remembered seeing a man crying over a grave, but everything else was a blur. Dissatisfied, she murmured, “If you are going to mourn all night, the least you can do is show me the whole story.”

“I... apologize, Fia,” a baritone voice creeped behind her. “But these projections are unconscious and unintentional. I don’t know how I do it.”

Fia turned around and naturally patted the talking skull on her desk. “Was that Titus, my great-grandfather?” she asked.

“No, he had not killed me yet. Good riddance,” Sura said. His voice had dropped into a melancholic tone. “Up to his death, the bastard would not become my friend.”

“Good to know, 'your majesty.' By the way, you still haven’t answered my question.”

“He was the king before me. The grave, I mean.”

Fia puffed in dissatisfaction. “I know that,” she muttered. “But what did he do to make you kill him?”

“You don’t need to know that,” Sura chuckled. “What you do need to know is that the servants are frantically running to find out why their captive is screaming at the light of dawn.”

“I screamed? Dammit all, this is your fault!”

“Watch your tongue, child. You’re killing me.”

Fia quickly grabbed Sura and rolled him under the bed. By now, she could hear footsteps echoing in the hallway. When she slipped into the bedsheets, a knock sounded behind the mahogany door.

A charming voice seeped into the room. “May I come in, my Prophetess?” a woman asked.

“You are going to come in anyway, Erise,” Fia said. “Your soldiers can remain outside, though.”

“Of course. Then excuse me.” A tall woman entered the room. She had a short, brown hair, trimmed to the height of her ears. As she walked, the gears of her black armor creaked menacingly. However, her green eyes held no hostility; in fact, they were too pure, which made her look like an overgrown child.

“Nightmares again?” Erise asked.

Fia scoffed. “I am not a child. I just stubbed my toe in the dark.”

“Only children do that, sister,” Erise smiled. When she tried to pat Fia on the head, the latter moved away and gave her a repulsive look. “You don’t have to be so cold,” she said. “It’s already been two years since you lived here, are you still afraid of me?”

“I am not just afraid of you. I am terrified,” Fia said. “I have never heard of a noble who serves a bastard sibling.”

Erise made a devilish smirk. “A Queen can do whatever she wants, dear Fia,” she said. “No one can defy me. Besides, you gave me such a wondrous gift all those years ago.”

“I try not to remember.”

“That doesn’t matter. Since it seems that there is no problem, I’ll leave you two on your own devices.”

Fia sighed. “You even know that Sura is here. Are you sure you are not the Prophetess?”

“I’d have loved to become one, my dear sister,” Erise said. “Then I wouldn’t have had to kill so many people.”