Hakan
---
The room felt like a tomb.
Cold stone pressed against my knees as I knelt before the ceremonial bowl, its rim etched with forbidden sigils that pulsed faintly under the candlelight. The purple silk robe clung to my skin, heavy with incense and smoke, barely concealing the web of black tattoos that carved their way across my arms and chest. They writhed faintly, as though the darkness inside them recognized what I was about to do.
My breath trembled.
I held the small vial above the basin. The clear liquid inside caught the flicker of candlelight—a deceptively innocent glow for something capable of warping a soul.
Behind me, Gilla's boots clicked softly against the stone. Her shadow fell over me, sharp and predatory.
"Um, Giaret…" she murmured. The hesitation was rare for her; even she could feel the weight of what I was about to unleash.
I swallowed, my throat tight with something far worse than fear.
Adar is already on the verge of losing her mind.
If I pushed her any further… if I dared to use black magic on her again… she would never return to sanity. I could already see the fragments of her—shattered eyes, trembling lips—etched in my memory like ghosts.
And yet… the past clawed at me.
THAT WOMAN WAS AGAINST MY REMARRIAGE WITH HAKAN…
The thought flared, fueling the bitterness buried deep within my ribs. Her opposition hadn't been passive. She had fought me. Manipulated. Interfered. Undermined. She had done everything she could to keep me shackled to a life drenched in old wounds.
And I was done being caged.
My hand clenched painfully around the vial.
Gilla stepped closer, her voice slipping into a razor-edged whisper:
"DO YOU REALLY WANT HER TO DIE?"
She didn't need an answer. My silence was enough.
Without looking at her, I lifted my wrist. The faint cut there stung as I pressed the vial against it. A bead of blood welled up, then another, then another—dripping into the milky liquid in slow, heavy drops.
The moment my blood touched it, the ritual reacted.
Symbols burst to life, glowing violent red, circling the basin like hungry serpents. The air GREW TEETH—each breath scraping down my throat. The magic snarled, eager, ravenous.
My fingers trembled around the bowl.
Memories surged again: her voice, her threats, her betrayal.
AND SHE EVEN TRIED TO DRIVE ME OUT OF THE ROYAL PALACE.
A sharp SLAP! rang out as I struck the floor beside me, the force cracking the stone. Candle flames shuddered. My heartbeat roared in my skull.
I lifted my head slowly, meeting Gilla's gaze.
Her dark eyes gleamed—satisfied, anticipating.
I exhaled a long, ragged breath.
"If she does regain her sanity," I said quietly, my voice empty of hesitation,
"then I'll personally finish her off myself."
The vow settled over us, heavy and final.
I raised the bowl.
The red glow inside it thickened, swirling violently. My chest ached with the enormity of what I was about to do… but the path was chosen.
With a single, decisive motion, I completed the ritual.
The liquid SPLASHed upward—followed by a massive burst of black energy that tore across the ceiling like a living storm.
FSSSHHHHHH!
The room shook. Symbols crawled up the walls. The candles guttered wildly but refused to go out, as though forced by the magic to bear witness.
And then—
Silence.
---
Far from my ritual chamber, chaos spiraled in the marble halls.
The servant's voice trembled:
"As Your Highness ordered, I left a window open… AND SHE CLIMBED OUT OF IT."
Her mistress's expression froze—beautiful, cold, dangerous.
"I saw her wander around before going to the palace," the servant continued desperately. "I also saw His Majesty walking to the palace. THEY SHOULD RUN INTO EACH OTHER SOON. WHAT SHOULD WE DO?"
Panic. Fury. Impending disaster.
Adar is already on the verge of losing her mind…
The meaning was clear.
What happened next could shatter everything.
---
The sunlit hall was warm, gentle… but none of that warmth reached me.
I stood stiffly, my shadow stretching long across the marble. Adi—the blonde child I had failed so many times—stood before me, small and oblivious. His eyes were wide, curious, trusting.
Trusting me.
My throat tightened painfully.
The white-haired woman near him watched us with quiet concern. Her presence should have soothed me. Instead, it tore open old wounds I could no longer ignore.
My hand hovered… then gently settled on Adi's head.
He smiled.
And the dam inside me cracked.
HOW COULD I…?!
The question ripped through me, silent but merciless. A tear—bright, traitorous—welled in my eye, shimmering in the golden light.
I had tried to protect my future.
But in doing so… I had endangered everything I cared about.
---
The next moment unfolded too quickly, too brutally.
The alarm.
The collapse.
The scream.
I turned just in time to see him—the man marked with glowing tattoos—crumple near the arched palace window, his body contorting with raw, indescribable pain.
Above him, a figure leapt into view. A red cloak flared like a banner of war. A bowstring drew back. An arrow gleamed, poised to strike.
My heart stopped.
The white-haired woman's voice tore through the world—
"NO!"
Her scream carried anguish so sharp it sliced through the air, freezing everything.
My tear finally broke free.
And in that suspended heartbeat—
every choice, every lie, every ritual crashed down in a single, unbearable truth.
---
The white‑haired woman's scream —
"NO!"
— tore through the chamber like a blade, sharp enough to freeze the air itself.
My head snapped toward the source of danger.
The archer in the red cloak stood poised near the high palace window, bowstring pulled taut, an arrow glinting wickedly in the light. The man who had collapsed earlier lay sprawled on the marble floor beneath the window, his tattooed back pulsing faintly with residual magic.
Instinct seized me before thought could form.
I SPRINTED, muscles burning, the tattoos across my back igniting with a hot, frantic ache. The world narrowed to the danger, the movement, the breathless need to stop what was coming.
But then —
the archer's aim shifted.
A soft, terrified gasp cut through the commotion.
The boy.
Standing by the window in his blue‑and‑gold garments, small, vulnerable, eyes wide—
"LUCINA!" he cried, reaching out instinctively toward the white‑haired woman.
I wasn't the first to reach him.
The blonde man — the boy's father — lunged forward with a snarl twisted across his face, protectiveness consuming his features. His usually composed eyes now burned with something feral.
"HOW DARE YOU DO THAT TO MY SON…?!"
His hand flashed to his belt, pulling out a dark feather quill — no ordinary writing tool but a weapon humming with violet energy.
He swung.
The arc of light split the air.
For a single, breathless instant, I believed it would hit.
But the attacker moved with inhuman precision.
GRAB!
Their hand snatched the quill mid‑swing, halting the attack as though catching a falling leaf. The violet energy crackled and died. The quill slipped from their grip and hit the floor:
PING… PING…
rolling slowly across the marble, the sound unnervingly small in the chaos.
A wave of cold realization hit me.
"OH NO…"
This — all of this — was the fallout of my own doing.
My black magic.
My desperation.
My misguided attempt to secure a future I was already losing control of.
The boy's father didn't stop.
Fueled by rage and terror, he lunged again, fingers curled like claws.
"DIE!" he roared, voice cracking with raw, parental fear.
But I reached the attacker first.
With a swift, brutal motion, I wrapped my arms around him from behind, locking his limbs against his body. My forearms clamped down like iron bands, pinning him, immobilizing him, cutting off his ability to reach for another weapon.
His body strained against mine, but I tightened my grip until his breath hitched.
His frantic eyes met mine. I let none of my turmoil show — only cold, silent finality.
The threat was contained.
But the chaos was far from over.
My gaze darted immediately to her — the white‑haired woman who had screamed first. Tears glistened in her wide eyes, spilling one by one.
"Ah…" she breathed, barely more than a gasp.
Her hand flew to her mouth, trembling.
The sight hit me harder than any weapon could.
I released the attacker to the guards who rushed forward and moved toward her without thinking, my chest heaving, pulse still hammering with the aftershock of violence.
I reached out, gently taking her hand, lowering it from her trembling lips.
"ARE YOU HURT?"
My voice was rough, unsteady, edged with fear I couldn't mask.
Her eyes lifted to mine — fragile, startled, shining with the terror of what she had just witnessed.
Around us, the once‑grand palace chamber was a shattered picture: golden trim smeared with dust, the marble floor marred by fallen weapons, the echoes of violence still vibrating in the walls.
The attack was halted.
But the fracture — between us, within me — had already taken root.
And the consequences of the dark path I had chosen now stood vivid and undeniable before me.
Absolutely — I will expand your provided passage ONLY, polishing it into a richer, novel‑style sequence without going even one line beyond the events you included.
I will stop exactly at:
"ISN'T THAT IN ACCORDANCE WITH TAYAR LAW?" I challenged … I could not afford weakness, not even for her sake. The law had been upheld, and my woman was safe.
The dagger's glint still lingered in my vision, a smear of silver that seemed to carve straight through my breath. Lucina trembled in my arms, her small hands gripping my robe as though she feared the world itself would swallow her whole.
I held her tighter — SQUEEZE — the primal instinct to shield her overwhelming every other thought.
Then my mother's scream shattered the charged silence.
"GUARDS!"
She appeared in the archway like a specter, her pearl earring casting a soft glow that mocked the violence contorting her features. "IS ANYONE THERE?! WHAT ARE YOU ALL DOING?! THERE'S A CRIMINAL LOOSE IN THE PALACE!"
A criminal.
She dared to call Lucina that — while the blood running down my forearm was from a wound she herself had driven deeper.
A blur of white uniforms and polished bronze tore across the hall. RUSH. Titi among them.
My voice thundered, echoing through the golden chamber, shaking the marble pillars with its fury.
"She committed the unforgivable sin of attacking me… and even tried to harm my bride!"
The words rumbled out of me, raw and cracking at the edges.
"SUCH BEHAVIOR WILL NOT GO UNPUNISHED!"
My mother's eyes softened, not with remorse — but with a grief steeped in her own twisted self‑pity. Her lips trembled.
"But…"
A tear traced down my cheek. I despised how it burned. ****
"SEND HER TO THE VALLEY OF FIRE!"
Her scream echoed. For a moment, her face dissolved behind a curtain of roaring crimson flames — the hell awaiting the one she desperately tried to protect.
The guards seized the man in gold and blue — her favored son — dragging him away, limbs limp, expression shattered. ****
Light flooded the white‑and‑gold hallway again. Lucina whimpered softly in my arms. Titi stood beside me, wide‑eyed and trembling. ****
I cupped Lucina's cheek carefully, brushing away the dampness at the corner of her eye. ****
"Titi," I ordered, voice steady but tight, "go and bring the cleric here. Lucina is hurt."
Titi sprinted away.
The air shifted — a heavy, commanding presence entering.
"YOUR MAJESTY!"
The grey‑braided warrior stepped forward, face pale beneath his scars. "I heard that you commanded Adar to be sent to the Valley of Fire."
I held his gaze, my hand tightening around the scabbard of the sword I'd taken.
"Is that true…?" he asked.
"Yes." My voice was flint, unyielding.
"THIS SHOULD APPEASE THE MINISTERS. Now the one who posed a threat to the last Guardian Dragon will disappear." ****
"But…" he began, hesitation thickening the air between us.
I cut him off sharply.
"ANYONE WHO TRIES TO HARM THE KING OR HIS BRIDE… WILL BE SENT TO THE VALLEY OF FIRE."
He flinched when the decorative reeds along the balcony toppled lightly to the floor — FLOP — the soft sound a mockery of the severity of my decree.
I turned toward him, chin raised.
"Isn't that in accordance with Tayar Law?"
His silence was his answer. His eyes flicked toward Lucina, still trembling in my hold.
"Won't this upset Lucina…?" he whispered.
I froze.
For a heartbeat, everything inside me stalled.
But then I set my jaw, hiding the dagger behind my back, tribal tattoos rippling tensely across my shoulders.
Weakness had no place here.
The law had been upheld.
And my woman was safe.
___________
"I NEED TO ASK YOU SOMETHING," she whispered, her voice fragile.
He was here. The Guardian Dragon, returned to the palace in the wake of the political upheaval. My order for silence had come just in time.
Lucina is now turning to the Guardian Dragon for information.
I kept my palm cupping Lucina's cheek, feeling the faint tremble beneath her skin. The brazier light flickered across her delicate features, illuminating the injury she'd tried so hard to hide from me. A sharp ache twisted in my chest.
"YOU GOT HURT BECAUSE I DIDN'T HANDLE THIS PRISONER PROPERLY," I admitted, my voice a low rumble of self‑reproach.
I leaned closer, my breath brushing her forehead. "I'LL MAKE SURE THIS DOESN'T HAPPEN AGAIN."
The truth was bitter: my hesitation, my misplaced hope that bloodshed could be avoided, had nearly cost me her safety.
"TITI, GO AND BRING THE CLERIC HERE. LUCINA IS HURT."
Titi bolted immediately.
Behind me, the grey‑braided warrior stepped into the burning glow of the terrace flames.
"YOUR MAJESTY—!" His voice shook. "I HEARD THAT YOU COMMANDED ADAR TO BE SENT TO THE VALLEY OF FIRE."
His eyes darted to the ritual braziers outside, as if searching for a gentler explanation.
"IS THAT TRUE…?"
"It is."
My tone was flat stone.
"THIS SHOULD APPEASE THE MINISTERS. NOW THE ONE WHO POSED A THREAT TO THE LAST GUARDIAN DRAGON WILL DISAPPEAR."
He swallowed hard. "BUT…"
I didn't let him finish.
"ANYONE WHO TRIES TO HARM THE KING OR HIS BRIDE… WILL BE SENT TO THE VALLEY OF FIRE."
The discarded reeds dropped with a soft FLOP, sealing my judgment.
"ISN'T THAT IN ACCORDANCE WITH TAYAR LAW?"
Silence answered me.
Then—hesitation, the one thing that still had the power to irritate me—he looked toward Lucina.
"WON'T THIS UPSET LUCINA?"
My grip tightened on the dagger hidden behind my back. The tribal markings on my skin flexed with the tension running through me.
"IF SHE DISCOVERS THAT YOU EXECUTED YOUR MOTHER BECAUSE OF HER—"
"THEN DON'T LET HER FIND OUT."
He stiffened. "WHAT?"
My voice dropped to a lethal whisper.
"I'LL PLACE A GAG ORDER ON THE WHOLE PALACE."
His eyes widened in disbelief, but I continued, unperturbed:
"FROM NOW ON, ALL RECORDS OF ADAR WILL BE KEPT CONFIDENTIAL… AND NO ONE WILL BE PERMITTED TO MENTION HER."
Mother. Adar. Both erased.
"ANYONE WHO VIOLATES THIS ORDER WILL BE SEVERELY PUNISHED."
The threat echoed against the marble, settling heavily into the air.
⚕️ A Sudden Return
GRIT.
Teeth grinding.
Then a strained COUGH.
Everyone turned.
A man in an ornate purple robe stumbled forward, long dark hair falling over his shoulders. His hand pressed to his chest as he scanned the hall with a foggy, unfocused gaze.
"I MUST'VE PASSED OUT FROM USING MAGIC AGAIN… I WONDER HOW MUCH TIME HAS PASSED?"
He approached an attendant—Gillai—who immediately tensed.
"YOU THERE. DID ANYTHING HAPPEN WHILE I WAS RESTING?"
Gillai exchanged a terrified GLANCE with the others, her color draining.
"UM… SOMETHING DID HAPPEN, BUT THE KING HAS ORDERED US NOT TO SAY ANYTHING…"
"WHAT?"
His voice strained, followed by another rough COUGH, his body shaking with the effort.
He looked down, ashamed.
"I'M SORRY."
The apology was soft—unexpected from someone radiating such latent power.
Then his eyes shifted—caught by a small movement at his side.
Lucina lifted her hand, her fingers brushing the purple silk of his robe with a soft CLASP. Her breath trembled.
Her eyes, dulled by fear yet unwavering, rose to meet his.
"I need to ask you something," she whispered.
Her fragile voice hung between them, fragile as spun glass.
The Guardian Dragon… awake again.
Standing in the middle of the very palace whose fate he unknowingly influenced.
And Lucina—my Lucina—was turning to him for answers.