inds howled around me, my dress billowing with echoing rattles as my hair flew in a mess of silky raven. The usual cold fire blazed under my floating form, my eyes roaming the familiar dungeons. Ever since the last time a dream had overtaken me, the place hadn't changed a bit. Dim and cold, like a pit in the blackest prisons of Rimelia. The only thing that changed was the cells. The doors were flung open while the prisoners were nowhere to be found. Instead, the only thing that greeted me was the silence of their absence. And the glowing light in the end.

Ripples of a soothing blue danced in this darkness, piercing it like the whisper of an undying promise. But it was no longer bright. The once glimmering beam that called my magic with such intensity became a doddering flicker dancing on the edges of vanishing. And I stood still in the lugubriousness of the place, my mind reeling like it had always done on where I was, and what Sorcha had said when I first met her.

A thing that called my soul to see. But to see what?

Through the silence a growl rang, bouncing from one wall to the other. A second followed before everything went back to its idle state.

Or though I thought.

No growls resonated, but the floor cried, bricks and stones falling one after the other in a black nothingness. Like trying to satisfy an undying hunger, the entire place crumbled, slumping into that black hole. Soon, the place vanished with the wind, the emptiness under my feet growing with a stupendous speed. And from that darkness, a pair of skeleton hands surged. Bony and pale, they rose from that darkness, trying to grasp me. To drown me in whatever hell existed down below.

Trepidation got the best of me and I looked around for an escape route. But there was none. Nothing but the unending blank. Before I could think of anything to do, a voice echoed in the dullness of the place. A voice that rebounded in my mind, again and again, the world fading with it. The well-known haziness washed over me and I watched with awe--an awe that never ceased no matter how many times I lived through it--as my soul was pulled back through time and space to my body.

The voice still echoed, sounding closer and far urgent as my soul snuggled once again in my physique. My eyes forcibly opened and were greeted by the face of the King. His lips were moving and it took me a while to realize he was whispering my name, his hands firmly holding me against him. And it took me a bit more to feel the shakiness of my body and the fast thumping of my heart.

The saving voice was his, it had always been the same.

"Another nightmare?" he mumbled, his mouth pressed against my forehead, his arms as tight as the ones I wrapped him with.

I slightly nodded, my body still shaking, my heart still thundering in my chest. It had been a week since Father was saved from the poison, and each passing moment, I spent it with him. From when dawn would break to when night would wrap us in sheer darkness, I stayed with him, in his arm, talking. And in that week, I felt whole, an overwhelming warmth embracing my soul.

And all that past week, my nights were never peaceful. And it worried me more that even the King didn't know what those dreams were, or what awaited in the end seemingly interminable dungeon.

Time trickled in its hourglass for a while, my body and soul still laying along my father's, my sun against his. With indolent eyes, I stared at his emeralds and how much they looked like mines. Fierce and commanding, a gift to a ruler.

"I've heard you talking with Ramos last night,'' I said, fingers absentmindedly running on his shoulder. ''What were you two scheaming?"

He smiled, a glint appearing in his eyes. A glint I knew too well how to read. We shared the same mind, both sly and sharp catching when needed. Staring at the already risen sun, he replied, "I have called for a council meeting. The court should be gathering by now.''

"A gathering for what purpose?"

"I will explain it to you once you get ready. But now, go change, and make sure it is something fit for a royal."

And with those words, an idea of what awaited shone clearly in my mind.

Wrapping myself in my black robe, I left the room, but not before his soul whispered to mine.

Meet me behind the throne room.

It took me little time to prepare as Ramos had sent a maid to my room for the sole purpose of dressing me. Wrapped in a navy, satin dress and adorned with enough jewelry and an elegant diadem resting on my head, I couldn't scream more royalty. Keeping the hood of my raven mantel well over my head, I glided in the shadowy corridors woven discreetlybetween hallways and rooms, hidden from the eyes of surveying sentries.

From one narrow passage to the other, I walked until my father's cloaked figure appeared, his eyes glowing in the dimness of the place. Enclosed by dusty walls with hanging cobwebs and a deadly silence, we stood in the secret passages meshing the throne room.

"Follow me," he muttered as we started swaying away from the way I knew took to the major council room. "I made Ramos order the council to be in a different room than usual; it is the one used in case of extreme privacy, away from all possible curious ears.''

"It is time they know the Armedes King is finally back," I stated. He only nodded.

"Yes, but it is also time Ardoria knows of its future ruler. As a first step, you will be introduced to the courts and will claim your throne and birthrights."

We were fast-walking, carefully skipping from one sleek couloir to another, but my mind had stopped short upon his words.

"Claim my throne? Does your court have the right to take it from me?"

"By Leander's law, they only have the right to do so if the bearer of the mark is still too young to succeed. In those times, they have to discuss whether any of the elder siblings or relatives is fit to be a reagent. Being marked and a chosen, they do not have the right, but they will try with no doubts."

"Why?"

"Because they all fancy the crown and its powers. They want their sons and daughters to be reagents and live the glory while it lasts. They intimidate," he paused, turning to face me, "but never forget that whatever royal orders we give, they are forced to obey.'' His fingers ran through the few raven strands framing my face, his thumb stroking my cheek soothingly. "You are queen, no matter what they say." He held my hand as we didn't move anymore, and I knew from instincts that we had arrived.

Pressing his palm against the dust-covered wall, light surged through the stones, harassing my eyes with blinding beams. Leisurely traced on the wall, a glimmering line appeared before unveiling double mahogany doors.

Ordered by the dominance of the king's powers and soul, they opened with a slight creak, more light evading from the brightly lit room.

Both of us covered from head to toe with our cloaks and hoods, we entered, his hand still holding mine. I grasped it tighter, the symphony of my pulse playing faster.

We stepped inside, bright, golden rays cascading above our head from a heavy chandelier, the radiance washing every corner and nook. The reverberating noise, as though muffled chatters and complaints, faded as eyes turned to us, some glinting with curiosity, some others with an unspoken discontent.

With careful stares, I studied the room and the people scattered within it. It wasn't vast, but not crowdy, either. A rectangular, wooden table laid in the middle, surrounded by enough chairs to support up to fifty persons. And they were all full, except for two. The king and I's.

A flicker of easiness bloomed in the pit of my stomach as I was greeted by some familiar faces. Ramos, Carter and his father, Leon and his aunt, and Sorcha were the first I made out, the rest familiar from the nights Ramos made me study about the hierarchy of nobilities. Down to each and single detail, I knew the men and women staring at us. That knowledge did not make it easier.

"Who are those who had decided to join us?" asked a voice laced with enough grumpiness and displeasure it made dread kill the bit of ease to thousand pieces.

"Why do you not wait, Lord Perdiel, and see for yourself?" inquired the Court Leader, taking a sip from his teacup, the whiff reaching me as a sweet fragrance of fruited tea. I wondered why he had waited for the council to quieten by itself when he could have killed the noise with a rise of his hand.

As Father led me to the table, I grasped my hood tighter, all the time aware of Lord Perdiel's--an old yet powerful member of the council--stars fixating on me, irritation still visible in his dark eyes.

I had studied about him with Ramos not many nights ago and what I remembered about him wasn't much comforting. A part of the noble courts for more than three hundreds years, Perdiel of the Smitheron house, was not a man to play with. Or provoke. He worked hard for the safety of this world, but his lust for names and powers always came to mind before his exploits.

Taking seat in our respective chairs, we sat, still cautious as to not show our faces until Father saw it fit. Two cups came flying, landing on the intricately designed saucers, magically filling themselves with a purple liquid. Trailing my gaze around the curious faces, I realized that, to my immediate right Leon's aunt--Renva--and her nephew were seated, Carter and his father Lord Claurod, next to them. In my opposite were the Count of Raucheguard, Isal, and Mayra's eldest brother, Némair, all the family bearing the same golden, blond hair. But unlike May, their eyes veered to a bluish hue more than a pure lavender.

My stares then crossed Sorcha's warm face and several more that didn't matter to me much, before landing on the newest member of our courts. Sir Ayaz, a man of normal birth who had made his way to the courts for his ardent love for peace and hard work in defending the continent. If memories did not betray, he only began to be a member seven years ago.

His grass-colored eyes met with mine, a flicker of a smile tracing his lips as he tucked a loose strand of pale, blond hair obscuring his face. Turning immediately, I broke the eye contact, noting how keen his stares were.

"Now that our guests are seated, shall they reveal their visages, or should we wait any longer?" Perdiel's words rang in the deadly silent, raising more questions in the gazing eyes.

"I have let you wait enough," said the King, his hands grasping the fabric of his hood, standing from his seat. His movements came agonizingly slow as he removed his capuche, igniting a fiery anticipation around us.

As it dropped, his cloak vanished in a puff of black mist, leaving him in a majestic-tailored suit, a heavy crown, and a wave of shocked gasps and murmurs.

And above the surprised chatters, a simple laugh evaded Ramos's throat, the old hombre standing to take the king in his arms.

"It is such a pleasure to see you in shape and strength after all that sickness," he voiced aloud, patting Father on the shoulder. An act he was the only one able to perform, being the only one of all nobles that was not bound by formalities.

Father turned to his courts, studying the relevant shock lining the sea of faces, his hand resting on my shoulder, squeezing it.

"Good morning, old friends."

The very air in the room was heavy and the way gazes and stares gawked at us, the way pure shock painted the present auras, was suffocating. None found the power to utter a word.

"I have come back, more powerful than before. Ardoria once again has a King," he paused, his smoldering irises flickering to Sorcha, Ramos, Leon, and Carter, knowing they already had a gist of what words he was about to voice. "But I have not come alone today, and a king is not all that Ardoria will receive."

As he tightened his grip on my shoulder, I knew it was my cue to rise. Standing alongside the king, my hands firmly holding my hood like I had done moments ago, I waited for his words. For the words that would whack this room with even more shock and confusion.

"Seventeen years and a half ago, the castle was invaded by demons. Seventeen years and a half ago, we lost our queen. And we thought we had lost more,'' he paused, and the tension in the air became deadly. Each mind reeled to comprehend, each soul was showered in turmoil and contemplation. Men and women waited on the edges of their seats, their eyes burning holes in my spirit. "But today, I come back, and with me, my heiress."

He turned to me, his hands holding mine as the fabric slid with aching sluggishness. "The chosen. And your future queen," he continued, and the hood fell, the mantle vanishing into thin air just like his, revealing my face.

And with the fell of my cover, a storm of gasps and shock and questions exploded in the room, washing almost every single attendee.

The truth was brought to light, at last. And never should it return to the darkness of lies and secrecy. But I wondered as I stared into their minds and souls, as I listened to their questions and wills of explanation, was I ready?