The corridors of the Celestial Palace were quieter than any sea. Neither the grand staircases of black oak nor the oil chandeliers that hung like golden skulls from the ceiling could drown out the urgent sound of Victória's boots on the marble. She wasn't running, but walked with a haste that almost breached protocol, fists clenched and heart pounding like a drum.
The walls were decorated with tapestries from the time of King Orion Caelestis and statues with impassive faces that watched her. Every oak door seemed to conceal a secret.
She needed to find a familiar face – anyone from the crew that had come with the Queen to the palace. Someone who would recognise her as more than a girl in a crumpled coat, still smelling of salt and damp wood. But the corridors were filled with strangers: Isolarian soldiers, foreign diplomats, courtiers with strong perfumes and treacherous eyes.
It was when she turned one of the palace's long galleries that she saw Commander Livia Calista. She was facing away, speaking with a steward whose white hair and worn face bore signs of fatigue. The commander's uniform was dark blue, with silver embroidery marking her rank – not only aboard the Caelestis, but within this palace, where hierarchy weighed heavier than iron chains. Her sabre hung at her waist, ceremonial, yet sharp. Always sharp.
Victória advanced with long strides.
– Commander Calista – her voice came out drier than expected, scratched by tension. – I need to speak with the Queen. Urgently.
The commander turned slowly. There was no surprise on her face, nor impatience. Only her usual hardness. Her expression never changed, not even under cannon fire.
– Navarca – the name was spoken like one recognising a ship by its sails. – You arrived this morning, and now you walk these corridors as if the sky were falling. Explain yourself.
Victória took another step, now facing her. Her young face was hardened by what she had seen.
– The corridors and halls are full of secrets and dangerous murmurs. The courtiers speak openly of treacherous matters, and there are rumours among all within the palace of a conspiracy against our Queen. As far as I could tell, her presence here is not welcome, and there are those who wish to see her removed as soon as possible.
Calista looked at her for a long moment. Then, she turned to the steward and murmured something he understood at once. The old man bowed and left.
– The Queen is meeting with ambassadors from the Republic of Marellia – the commander's voice was as firm as granite. – If you interrupt her without being certain of what you're implying, you'll lose more than a promotion. You'll lose the Queen's trust.
– If we don't interrupt, we may be putting her life at risk.
For a moment, time seemed to stop between them. Then, slowly, Livia nodded, placing full trust in Victória's words.
– Follow me. And pray to Solarius that you are not mistaken.
She began to walk. Victória took a deep breath and followed her. Step by step, they approached the doors to the Council, and beyond them, lay the heart of the kingdom.
The door was made of darkened oak, with the Faro Eterno engraved in silver at the top of the arch. Two guards opened it in silence. The Commander entered first, rigid as a sheathed sword, while Victória waited for permission to step in, her heart thundering in her chest.
Inside, the candles burned low, the maps were unrolled, and Livia whispered into Luna's ear so that the dignitaries could not hear what she had to say.
– My lords – said the Queen calmly, – I fear there is other news which demands my immediate attention. If you would, please return tomorrow so we may conclude our negotiations.
The diplomats bowed and, saying nothing more, left the hall.
– Girl, come – said the Queen without emotion. – I hear you have something to tell me.
Victória entered the Council Hall of the Sea, lit by dozens of suspended oil chandeliers. Within it, the smell of old maps, burnt wax and tension clung to the fabric. At its centre was a long walnut table covered in nautical charts, reports, and forgotten cups. At the far end, beneath the Golden Star crest of House Caelestis, stood Queen Luna Caelestis.
Her deep blue uniform was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the tanned skin of her neck. Her hair, black and braided in a naval fashion, shone under the golden light, and her pale grey eyes were fixed on Victória like a sharp blade.
– What Livia tells me, is it true? – the Queen asked bluntly. – But I warn you: do not lie to me. If you do, I will leave you tied to the harbour to sink.
– Your Majesty… – said Victória, hesitantly. Her words were caught in her throat; she was afraid Luna would not believe them. – What I'm about to tell you is the truth. I heard these words with my own ears. Tonight, during the banquet held in your honour, a conspiracy will be carried out to remove you from power.
A murmur swept through the room. Luna, however, did not blink.
– Go on.
– There was a plan – Victória swallowed hard. – You were meant to have had an 'accident' at sea. How or when, I cannot say, for we returned too soon for it to happen.
– Blood of Solarius… – murmured Livia.
Victória continued, now speaking more softly, but every word was a blade.
– But I just heard, here, in this palace, that Your Majesty is becoming 'an obstacle'. The Regent, Octavion Caelestis, is watching you and plans to set his plan in motion while we're at the banquet, for he considers you dangerous.
Luna had stepped back. Not in fear, but in restrained fury. Her eyes burned like twin suns in an eclipse. Her right hand gripped the hilt of her sword so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
– He plans to kill me? My own uncle? – her voice came out like cold lava. – The man who vowed to keep the throne until Caelum was old enough to marry me? The man who swore to the gods he would keep this kingdom united? He smiles in public while conspiring to sever my head from my shoulders? If he is capable of that, then he may well have been the one behind my father's abrupt death.
The room fell silent. Only the creak of candles and the slow crackle of oil could be heard.
Luna rose slowly, like a storm gathering form. She stood taller than everyone else, not only in stature, but in presence. A vengeful bolt ready to strike.
– Very well – she said. – My uncle wants a banquet? He shall have one. We shall wear our smiles. We shall carry our gold on our fingers and our dignity on our chests. We shall toast to fair winds and our safe return. But tonight, we capture the Regent and keep my brother in my custody. After that… we shall decide what is to be done with them.
– Officers, to me! – Livia said, as furious as her Queen. – I want the Queen's entire guard around her and sentries at the doors of the hall. Bring the junior officers from their wing here.
– And what do I do? – asked Victória, bewildered by the frantic movement of bodies around her.
– You stay here. Do not take a single step outside this room – Livia ordered, with a voice as sharp as the sabre at her waist. – Out there, you are no longer an officer, you are a target. And there are eyes in every shadow, even within these walls – Calista fixed her with a gaze of steel seriousness. – Rest. You'll need your strength. This night will be very long indeed.
And with those words, she left.
Victória wanted to protest. Her tongue was ready, her soul ablaze, the blood of youth calling for action. But the commander was already turning to the door, not giving her the chance to object.
The door closed with a dull, final sound. Then came the footsteps of the guards. Two. Perhaps three. These were trusted soldiers. The Queen's soldiers.
The reality of the situation hit Victória, and she realised there was nothing she could do. At least, not alone. In the corner of the room, near a semicircular window, stood a long bench with a faded cushion, curved by use.
Victória approached it slowly, as if afraid the floor might give way beneath her. She sat down, drew her shoulders in, and only then realised how much she was trembling. Trembling from fear and exhaustion.
She had faced storms with torn sails and bloodied sailors, but now her muscles ached as though she had been beaten. Perhaps it was from the truths she had spoken, or the shadow of the threat still hanging.
What would they have done to the Queen if I hadn't spoken?, she wondered as she lay down on the bench. The Queen had believed my words, but what if she hadn't?
She closed her eyes. I will rest only a moment, just as the Commander told me to, she promised herself. Just a moment.
When she opened her eyes again, it was as if she had woken in another world.
The light in the hall was different. The shadows stretched long, and the air carried a suspended feeling. It was neither day nor night – they were now in between. Outside, the sun was preparing to vanish beyond the horizon, and distant bells announced the hour of the banquet. The sounds came muffled, like a vision through mist.
– Victória, it's time. The Queen awaits.
She opened her eyes startled. The voice she had heard was firm and familiar. It came from Livia Calista, who stood before her, already dressed for the banquet. She wore a naval coat of dark brocade and golden buttons, fastened to the neck. On her shoulder, she bore war insignias. In her eyes, there was gravity.
Victória sprang to her feet, but her legs faltered. Her body remembered that she had slept with fear curled up in her stomach. Calista extended a hand to her – a rare gesture from her, but a sign of intimacy between soldiers.
– Come. Tonight, you are not just a sailor. You are a witness to these perfidious acts. You are a sword that defends the Kingdom. And, if needed, you will be the Queen's shield.
The sound of boots echoed like a war drum through the glass-lined corridors of the Celestial Palace. There were twelve of them – soldiers of the Royal Guard, handpicked by the Queen herself. They wore dark blue coats, polished scabbards, and eyes that never wavered, not even at the sound of instruments from the hall, growing ever closer.
At the centre of the procession walked Luna Caelestis, wearing her usual deep navy traditional naval uniform, with a white cloak resembling a freshly stitched ship's sail, speckled with silver threads that glimmered under the torchlight. Her crown, simple and sharp, looked more like a blade than an ornament. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon of the corridor, as if she already knew exactly who would die tonight.
To her left marched Livia Calista, with her hand on the hilt of her sabre and a hardened expression. To the right stood a young officer – Amandus Nereus, silent-faced, alert to every ajar door. A little behind them came Victória, who felt as if she were marching towards the end of the world.
At the far end of the corridor, the doors to the Hall of Stars stood open. In the distance, the sound of laughter, glasses being raised, and string and wind instruments filled the air with a melody as sweet as a nauseating perfume.
It was named so because of its ceiling: a giant dome of darkened glass, encrusted with panels painted with star constellations. At its centre hung a colossal chandelier made of blown glass, suspended by golden chains, with hundreds of candles in concentric rings, giving the impression of a suspended sun.
The walls were covered with war tapestries and maritime maps embroidered in golden thread – remnants of the Caelestis family's past glory. Five long horseshoe-shaped tables filled the hall, with the Queen's elevated throne at the centre. The Regent, Octavion, dressed in a light blue tunic and carrying a silver staff, was already seated there, with a slippery smile that never reached his eyes.
At the table, fat and thin nobles, retired captains, and foreign envoys gorged themselves greedily. Several dishes had already been served before the Queen had arrived. Roasted suckling pigs with baked apples in their mouths. Halved lobsters with melted garlic butter dripping. Pigeons stuffed with figs and black pepper. Blood-red prawns in pomegranate sauce. Golden, crunchy breads piled like flour-built ramparts. There were also various wines of different vintages and origins. The most coveted were the bottles of ruby, amber, or golden crystal, labelled by hand. A servant passed by with a tray of goblets. Always full. The wine foamed like a rebellious sea.
Some laughed. Others sang. One of them mocked the navy of Solterra, while a red-haired woman played the violin and an albino man strummed a twelve-string guitar. All fell silent when the Queen entered. Some stood. Others hesitated.
But the Queen paid no attention to any of it. She stopped, like a blade frozen mid-air, in the exact centre of the hall.
– Good evening – she said, her voice clear. – I see you've started without me.
The Regent smiled. He gave a small nod of the head. At his side, King Caelum, so frail in his uniform, looked at Victória. His eyes seemed to cry out a question he dared not ask.
Tension fell over the hall like an invisible net. The guests swallowed hard. The air, once perfumed, now seemed laced with gunpowder and treachery.
Luna stepped forward, and her officers followed.
The clinking of cutlery, the scraping of plates, the clinking of crystal goblets, and the rustling of garments turned into a muffled murmur as the Queen took her place at the banquet. Octavion bowed slightly with a calm smile – a smile reminiscent of a serpent waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He rose and began to speak, his voice full of solemnity, echoing through the hall like distant thunder.
– Ladies and gentlemen, nobles and warriors loyal to the Kingdom of Isolara – he began, his authoritative posture as solid as a fortress. – Today is a day of celebration. Queen Luna Caelestis returns safe and sound from yet another victorious mission. On behalf of our realm, we give thanks to Solarius, and we welcome our Queen, who, with her courage, defends our seas, our land, and our throne.
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, the nobles nodding with false smiles as their eyes turned to Luna. The Queen's expression, however, remained impassive. Her hand, elegantly resting on the arm of the throne, did not tremble, yet there was a subtle gleam in her eyes – something none present could decipher.
She stood when the Regent finished his speech, her gaze fixed on him, as if examining a chess piece and calculating her next move. The hall fell silent once again.
– I thank you all for the warm welcome and your prayers, ladies and gentlemen – she said, with a voice as clear as crystal and as sharp as the blade of a sword, – but especially my uncle, for having kept the kingdom strong and united while I was away, defending it with firm and vigilant hands – she paused, as if savouring the irony in those words. The Regent smiled, relieved, his eyes gleaming with hope that everything would proceed as planned.
– However… – the Queen's tone changed so suddenly that the hall seemed to stop breathing – I cannot help but laugh, uncle, hearing you make such grand proclamations about how you kept the kingdom united. You see, good Sirs and Madams, my uncle, good Octavion, has worked hard to show how much of an honourable man he is. But what kind of honour is this, ladies and gentlemen, that does not hesitate to betray his own flesh and blood?
The Regent froze. The Queen's words fell like heavy stones in the tense atmosphere of the hall. He looked at her with a nervous smile that failed to hold. The murmuring in the hall grew louder, and the worry that had previously filled the room was now replaced by unease.
– Yes, uncle – Luna continued, now with an icy smile, – I found out. I found out about the plan to drag me to the bottom of the sea in an 'accident'... So brave you are, so determined to hold onto the throne at any cost – she stepped forward, and the room seemed to tremble with her authority. – And now, I wonder: if you're capable of conspiring against me, what stops me from believing you conspired against my own father?
Those words fell like a sentence. The Regent swallowed hard, his hand tightening around the silver staff, but he did not dare interrupt. His smile had completely vanished.
– It was your hand that pushed my father into his grave, wasn't it, uncle? – said Luna with glacial calm. – Perhaps it was your ambition that sparked this war of succession, that forced me to fight for the crown which, by right, should have been mine. And when he died, you saw the opportunity to seize power... but you weren't counting on my resolve, were you?
The room was now in absolute silence. Not even the clinking of a glass could be heard. All eyes were fixed on the Queen and the Regent, who now resembled more a cornered animal, any shred of authority he still had crumbling beneath the weight of her accusations.
– Yes, uncle, I know what you did. I know what you tried to do. And now, we'll see if you're ready to pay the price for your ambition. The throne shall not be yours – not through treachery, not through death – she raised her hand. – Let's see if you still have the strength to face the power of someone with a rightful claim to the realm.
The Regent finally seemed to lose his composure. The Queen's words had struck him with the force of a fatal blow. He didn't know what to say, but the hatred in his eyes, hidden beneath a mask of dignity, was now exposed.
– Arrest him. Take the Regent. And escort my brother to my quarters, so that he remains under my custody – the Queen's tone was clear and merciless, as if a divine command had been spoken. This was no longer about justice – it was about vengeance, about correcting a mistake that had poisoned the kingdom for far too long.
However, just as the Queen's guards began to move, the door to the hall burst open with a crash, and the sound of metal scraping against the floor was drowned out by the firm, merciless footsteps of a man who stormed into the room. The Queen's cousin, Eryx Caelestis, advanced with an arrogant presence, surrounded by soldiers and mercenaries loyal to his cause. His figure was tall and commanding, his gaze sharp, and his expression like a mask of disdain. He cared nothing for the tension that hung in the air, nor for the situation unfolding before him.
As he crossed the hall, all eyes turned to him, and even Regent Octavion – who now looked more like a shadow of himself – raised his eyes to his son.
– Is this how family meetings happen these days, Luna? – his question, calm and dripping with sarcasm, sounded like a provocation. Luna's eyes glowed with restrained fury, her face still impassive, but her body was tense, like a spider poised to strike.
She did not move, but kept her eyes fixed on her cousin, who had dared to invade the room at the most delicate moment of her reign.
– What are you doing here, Eryx? – the question was direct, cutting. – Do you not recall you were exiled from the realm? Or have you conveniently forgotten?
Eryx laughed – a low, almost silent chuckle, as if the Queen were nothing more than a child trying to assert authority. He looked around, deliberately avoiding Luna, as if her words were no more than a trivial jest, before finally focusing back on her.
– Exiled? Perhaps. But exile is a matter of perspective, don't you think? – Eryx stepped forward, approaching her with arrogant poise, his dark eyes studying her with unsettling intensity. – I am the son of Octavion, Luna, and you know full well that the blood of Caelestis runs through my veins just as it does yours – he paused, as if assessing the Queen. – And unlike you, I never hid from the responsibilities of my name. The only difference between us is that you pretend to rule while I had to fight for everything that was stolen from me, just because I am the son of the 'wrong' Caelestis.
The tension was palpable, like a taut wire about to snap. Luna's gaze hardened further. She knew Eryx represented a grave threat to her throne, and there he stood, in front of her, cloaked in arrogance, as though his mere presence could shift the course of the room.
She clenched her teeth, fury boiling within. The moment she had long awaited – when everything could change – was now being threatened by a man who had once been cast out. She remained calm, but the defiance in her eyes was unmistakable.
– You have no place here, Eryx. You were exiled for selling Isolarians, your own countrymen, into slavery and conspiring with the Empire of Solterra. You are a traitor to the House of Caelestis and have no right to meddle in my affairs. This kingdom needs no more plots and betrayals. Enough with masks and pretences.
Eryx's gaze darkened, but he did not retreat. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if the smallest gesture of respect were enough to maintain his position.
– But you need more than just loyalty, Luna. You need strength. And the truth is, neither you nor your uncle can save this kingdom alone.
The Regent Octavion still stood in the same place, unmoving and silent. He looked at the two of them, his expression full of confusion and fear. The situation was completely slipping from his grasp.
As the hall braced itself for yet another eruption of words and accusations, Luna raised her hand, calling for silence. Her authority was unquestionable, and in that moment, she knew she would have to make decisions that would shape the future of her realm.
– Eryx, if you came only to cast doubt on the matter of succession, it would be best if you withdrew now – her voice rang out firm once more. – Isolara already has enough enemies without having to contend with more traitors within its walls.
But Eryx's challenge still hung in the air, and Luna's eyes never left him. The history of House Caelestis, with all its intrigues and secrets, would never be so easily resolved. She knew the kingdom's future would depend on much more than simply expelling those who dared to defy the throne.
– My exile was an injustice, Luna. An injustice created by the one who was supposed to protect us: your father, the late Orion Caelestis. A weak king, who traded away my freedom for his own stability. But I… – he paused, a nearly imperceptible smile curling his lips, – I am more than that. I freed the realm from the old man who held it back, who made us look weak before the other realms. The other realms know how feeble and easily manipulated we are in exchange for a handful of coppers, as if we were a cheap whore. This kingdom needs a new destiny and a new leader. I am no longer known as 'Eryx Caelestis', I am now the 'Falcon of the Mist'.
His words fell like heavy stones. Luna, still standing tall with the rigid posture of a queen, felt the blood freeze in her veins. She had never imagined that the man standing before her was the same one she and her officers had been hunting for years. The same man who had just admitted to regicide.
Eryx saw the disbelief in Luna's eyes, and satisfaction overtook his smile – a mixture of scorn and pleasure. He knew she would never believe that the man who had caused her so much suffering came from within her own royal house. And that, for some reason, was what pleased him most.
– Surprised, Luna? This game we played was fun, I must admit. Your relentless pursuit, the hunts. I enjoyed watching your anger grow while I slipped through your fingers like fine sand. But now the moment has come, Luna. The moment for justice – he took a step forward, closer to her, and his voice grew deeper, more threatening. – And that crown you so proudly wear, that crown you believe to be yours by right… it suits my head better.
Luna felt a wave of fury invade her bones. Eryx was not just a pirate; he was now a legitimate threat. He had allies, a name feared across the seas, and an ambition that could destroy everything she had built. But she would not be shaken.
– You shall never have what you desire, Eryx – her voice was firm. – You are nothing more than a common thief and a traitor to Isolara. I will not let the Isolarian people belong to you, nor will you do with them as you please.
– What a pity. Tell me, what name do you think the people will give to someone who kills two kings they swore to protect? Well, truth be told, I only swore to protect one of them; I never pledged loyalty to you. It matters not. Kill them all! But spare the Regent, if possible.
The Hall of Stars was instantly transformed into a battlefield. The air, previously saturated with political tension, was now heavy with the scent of gunpowder and metal.
The battle was a tangle of bodies and screams. The torches on the walls flickered, casting monstrous shadows that danced across the chamber, creating a nightmare-like atmosphere.
Amidst it all, Luna remained still, observing the scene with a coldness few could understand. But it was Victória, who stood near her, that saw everything unfold. Danger was consuming the room, but she knew her Queen did not waver. She never wavered. Her resolve was her strength. And, in that moment, it was what nearly destroyed her.
As blades and cries of pain filled the hall. Eryx, with a cruel smile on his lips, made a signal to his men. Luna Caelestis was caught by surprise when a royal guard soldier was struck down by a volley of bullets fired by Eryx's traitors. And at that moment, something happened: the Queen was hit in the shoulder. The shot was precise, and she dropped to her knees, pain and shock stamped on her face as blood began to stream down her arm, staining her uniform.
Victória, who was only a few steps away from Luna, did not hesitate. Her instinct to protect her led her to run towards the Queen, eyes fixed on her, fists clenched, rage and worry in every fibre of her being. But the chaos was too great. As she tried to reach Luna, one of Eryx's soldiers suddenly appeared – a burly man with a face of impenetrable sternness. He raised his musket and, before Victória could even scream, a brutal impact knocked her backwards. Victória's body was hurled to the side, like a leaf cast by the wind, before crashing heavily to the floor.
Pain, like a bolt of fire, exploded in her head. Before she could process what had happened, her world turned to darkness. The last thing she felt was the weight of her body hitting the ground, and the blurred vision of Luna, being supported by one of her officers, her injured arm bleeding, the blood dripping onto the floor. Everything was fading.
The hall fell silent for a moment, as if the very world had stopped. But Eryx's orders echoed once more, relentless, and the soldiers began gathering the bodies, dragging them out of the chamber, while others continued to fight for control of the room. Eryx, with a triumphant smile, watched the scene – the return of a man who had felt wronged all his life, and his revenge.
Livia Calista stood before Victória and shouted something that she could not understand. Before she could respond, her blurred vision turned completely black, and everything around her became a nightmare.