As the first light of dawn painted whimsy and wonder intertwined like ivy on diamond-stained windows, Ellius Rose awoke in crinkled sheets. At first, she feared that the night's events were but a dream woven by the threads of her imagination. Yet, as she reached out to touch her lips, still tingling from the memory of their kiss, she knew that it was real— It was their secret. Their deadly, scalding, poisonous secret. Her fingers closed over a cold lock of winter-white hair. All that was left from their passion.
With a smile gracing her lips, Ellius rose from her bed, ready to embark on a new day filled with endless possibilities. For in the Castle of Estela, where dreams take flight and love knows no bounds, anything is possible—even the most unlikely of love stories.
Her feet landed in the pools of what was her gown. Sigh. Yasmine is going to kill me. Getting out of that infernal device had been too great for even a monster to bear. She'd used Adonis' knives to wildly hack apart the strays and corset, allowing her to breathe deep instead of suffocating in her sleep.
She gathered up the heap and straying strands of corset ties, slipped the breakfast hot muffins into her chemise pocket, unlocked her door with her toes, and tiptoed down the halls. She entered the servants' quarters and down eight flights of glass staircases, each step a descent into a world obscured by the glittering façade of royalty. As she descended, the air thickened, suffused with the stifling embrace of relentless heat, a testament to the ceaseless labour transpiring far beneath the gilded halls.
In the bowels of the palace, where the flames danced with an insatiable hunger and the stench, Ellius found herself amidst the throng of slaves, their weary forms bent to the task of kindling the inferno that sustained their oppressors above. The stink down there was super-concentrated from the mass of bodies working day and night. Their bloodshot eyes watched as Ellius deposited her offerings into the hungry maw of the fire pits, their gnarled fingers gripping the fire irons to keep the flames brewing. A small boy struggled down the rows of furnaces with buckets of coal.
The people of Estela were forbidden to sell themselves as slaves, but slaves were sold to them from the Eastern kingdoms. They were chained, abused, and if not bought— sent to their deaths for the harvesting of their glass souls. Yet amidst the despair, there lingered a glimmer of hope, a whispered promise of liberation that danced upon the lips of the oppressed. Queen Melia, in her rare display of compassion, had offered sanctuary to those condemned to servitude, a refuge from the clutches of bondage where they could toil with dignity. Her mother had promised that they would be buried in peace.
The exhausted boy hefted his bucket and threw his load into the sparkling flames.
Ellius offered the muffins to him. "Have you eaten, Mickey? Eat it quickly." She knew that the food her father had prepared was burned and often insufficient. The men would steal the children's portions leaving them to starve. The less the runts we 'ave 'ere, the quicker that bute can harvest them souls. In translation: More food for them
Mickey obeyed and stuffed two muffins into his mouth, melted butter oozing down his cheeks. Mickey was the youngest at eight years old. But he was her mother's slave, not her father's. His slaves were harvested. Melia's were secreted away in the night and buried quietly.
"Buy your slaves with your gold. I'm sure the merchants will enjoy that and your body." Father's voice dripping with contempt set Ellius' bones shaking to throttle his neck.
He with his ladies and his riches, never gave a moment to her and spent his drunken fury on her terrified mother.
Mother. How wretched last night was for her.
"I'll check on you and the little ones tonight, Mickey. Go on now."
Mickey bobbed and ran off with his bucket. Ellius wrapped her arms around her shivering shoulders as she ascended the steps. The boiling heat in the furnaces had kept her deliciously warm, but their warmth melted off her as she walked down the long corridors in the cold sea breeze.
As Ellius emerged into the bustling chaos of the Royal Kitchens, she found herself amidst the whirlwind of activity, like a mad rush, just as Alice herself, the First Queen of Estela, had run in the Caucus-Race, all running where they liked, and left off when they liked, do that it was not easy to know when the race was over.
"Quickly! The ball will not wait for anyone!" the Chief said.
"A ball?" Ellius had poked her head through the bronze doors. Chief bowed before rapidly slicing apples to soften with cider vinegar, brown sugar, water, and vanilla. "Not another damn one," she moaned. "Whatever blimmin' for?"
"Yes, Your Highness. His Majesty has suddenly declared a ball for an event."
His chefs had been thrown out of bed at one o'clock in the morning to prepare. "I have Hog roast, melting roasted chickens, herb-crusted bolar, stuffed apricot and sage swans, and ham hocks in ginger syrup. The pastry chefs are finishing off the sweet pastry for the jam tarts."
The aroma of nutmeg and coconut danced in the air, intermingling with the savoury scent of chicken stock strong in her nose. A cook was ladling a liquid as smooth as silk into a waiting bowl. Yet, before the bowl could be spirited away to its intended recipient, "Has Mother taken breakfast?"
"No, Your Highness. I have it here." She set it on the tray filled with assortments.
"I'll take it." She grasped the tray laden with culinary delights, including hot, buttered muffins and a steaming bowl of roast pumpkin soup.
The Queen's Chambers were on the fifth floor and Ellius took the servants' stairs winding around a tower to slip into the Royal Family's Quarters, slipping into the sanctum of her mother's domain. Inside, the Queen's ladies fluttered about like colourful butterflies, attending to their duties of needlework, sorting through stacks of gowns over the couch. "Which colours suit, Your Majesty?" they inquired, their voices a gentle chorus of concern.
"Perhaps the blue with the ermine trim?" called Melia.
Melia was engrossed in the delicate dance of hues upon an artist's palette. With a gentle stroke, she blended colours, her fingers dancing like a maestro orchestrating a symphony of pigments. She looked up as Ellius entered the parlour. "Ah! My love!"
Ellius, with a weight of worry still lingering from the night before, entered the room, her steps hesitant. "I'm sorry for last night, Mama. Did he—"
But before she could finish, Melia enveloped her daughter in a warm embrace, a silent reassurance that spoke volumes. "No, my dear. Let us not dwell on the shadows of yesterday," she whispered, her voice a soothing melody amidst the chaos. "Today is a canvas yet to be painted, a fresh stroke upon the masterpiece of life."
Ellius set down her breakfast on the side table. Yet, despite her mother's comforting words, Ellius' gaze fell upon the small trickle in the corner where the lipstick could not hide the split. Ellius clenched her fingers into fists. Was it punishment for her defiance, her refusal to bend to his will? she seethed.
Melia dipped her honey rolls in spiced pumpkin soup with chips of coconut. "Have eaten, my love?"
Ellius shook her head, her appetite soured by the bitter taste of resentment. "I gave my extra muffins to Mickey," she confessed, her voice tinged with sadness. "But I'll fetch some muffins, gingerbread, and cheese for my breakfast later."
Her gaze drifted to the artist's painting box, a portal to her mother's world of creativity and solace. They were mostly depictions of village life. Dancing girls among sheep with garlands of flowers. Hunters dragging in their kills of shot deer, their blood so bright and livid. Farmers with their collie dogs herding the highland cattle.
"Are you going to paint again?"
"No. Memories."
Memories? "From a paint box?"
Melia smiled a secret smile. "Sshh, my darling. I'll show you a secret." She flicked her fingers to shut the door. Ellius knew her ladies told Father everything. They didn't serve out of loyalty, but petrified fear.
She stuck her head out the parlour doors. "You are dismissed. Mama and I are to have breakfast together." Another secret and a lie. It was their only moment of peace together before Melia was commanded to attend her father's court. Ellius shut the doors, locking them and the side and back doors.
"Show me the secret, Mama."
"Sit down beside me. First. Take out everything. "She had finished the soup and rolls. All that was left was a crock of butter and two steaming muffins.
Ellius took out the paintbrushes from the side holes. Then the palette, ink quills, and bottles of oil and colour dust from the centre console. Piece by piece, layer by layer, they peeled back the veil of illusion to reveal the truth hidden beneath.
All that remained was an empty bronze box panelled with red leather.
"Remove the leather front."
Ellius took out the leather that would cushion the top of her painting utensils. All that was behind was a shallow rectangular space.
"Now the side box panels."
Frowning, Ellius pulled out the side boxes. They were drawers to be tucked into the box. There was nothing inside. "How?"
"Give each a quick tug."
She replaced the drawers, then quickly yanked them out. Click!
She lifted the base slats of each. Inside, each was divided into four boxes with tiny pieces of glass. A false bottom, a secret compartment.
"Now the centre chest. Click the locks on three sides then slide."
Ellius lifted the box onto her lap. Strangely, it was heavy for an empty box. She grasped the locks and quickly clicked them three times more then jerked them to the left. A soft hiss and the whole console shifted. The box was split into two layers. She lifted off the top, setting it down. A golden disc imbued with the whispers of ages past
"A Time Box!"
She lifted the glass pieces. The pieces were to create a puzzle and the phonograph would tell the story of that time. And there were four jigsaw puzzles.
Time Boxes were very, very rare to require. To commission a woodcarver. A clockmaker. A goldsmith. A jeweller. Time Boxes were relics of untold power and mystery, crafted by hands long since turned to dust.
But to ask Time, himself, was a deal with the Devil. Never bargain with Time as he'll always ask for more than you can give. Few glass mortals owned a Time Box. But Mama....?
"Go on! Fix a puzzle."
Ellius had loved mysteries and with luck and Time, she was able to quickly sort through the one thousand-five hundred crystal pieces, carefully inserting each sliver into the rectangle slat above. The first puzzle was a colourful one of lush greens, leaves, stone, iron, sapphire, and lace. Ellius placed the stylus needle onto the disc and it began to spin in wonder and whimsy—a world where anything was possible and reality blurred with fantasy. Through the magic of the golden disc and the ancient voice that emanated from it, she was told the tale of old.
"Once Upon a Time, a young girl named Alice saw a white rabbit with pink eyes and a waistcoat run past her in her garden, to pop down a large rabbit hole under the hedge. Entranced, she chased it down to find herself falling down, down, down a looooooooong tunnel filled with curiosities, whimsy, and oddities like talking books who were very upright and proud about how they knew everything. Cupboards filled with jam and marmalade that could make you smarter, more prettier, your noses less ugly, controlling your temper, turning your skin in a variety of colours from green, purple, yellow, and blue. Clocks that told every time in the world, kingdom, and city, even under the water to the Lorelei Kingdom far beneath the ocean floor. Maps and pictures pinned to the earth's walls that showed the treasure routes and where they were buried. Alice fell for a very long Time and fell into a land called Wonderland."
Ellius watched as the figures in the puzzle danced and twirled to the rhythm of the storyteller's words. It showed a lush, beautifully trimmed garden set with delicate iron gates and a white rabbit running along with a woman in lace and bouncing golden curls following it into a land of magic and madness.
The needle slipped from the golden disc, leaving the tale unfinished.
Wonderland? That was a place of mythical legend, where Estela was founded from. Wonderland disappeared in Time and Estela rose out of its ruins. Some people were so old they remembered Wonderland and often they were called the Story Keepers of Estela. Children loved hearing their old tales of fantasy, talking teapots, confused twin boys, and a bloody enraged queen and her mad hatter. But "they were just stories," people said, and the children grew up from their silly childhood fantasies. Father had banished the Story Keepers from spreading their lies and outlawed them. Ellius had loved listening to the stories from her mother until her father discovered them.
Ellius had watched in horror as her father destroyed their playroom and nursery before her eyes and struck her mother with foul words, slapping her and grabbing her hair. From that day, not a story of Wonderland was told again.
Eagerly, Ellius swept the jigsaw pieces to their box and fixed the second puzzle into their place. This one was of a multitude of vibrant colours. Browns. Pink. Black. Green. White. Reds. Gold and gray. Midnight blue. Cream. And steam. The final crystal piece snapped into place and the puzzle picture gave off a golden aurora.
It was a tea party in a village green. Dancing people gay to the piper's music. Flower lanterns glowing in the night sky around a long table laid with a white cloth and tea. Creatures. Both humans and animals were seated before an enormous display of cakes, cream buns, pastries, cookies, fruit buns, butter, and jam.
Of the woman called "Alice", a young man in a top hat was holding her hand, enchanted, while the creatures at the table looked on in amusement. As the tale unfolded, she found herself drawn deeper into its intricate web, unable to tear her gaze away from the tragedy that unfolded before her eyes.
"Captured by the foul Duchess and her cannibal cook, Alice was thrust into a world of horror and despair. The Duchess, in her twisted delusion, believed Alice to be the mother of her pig-baby, a grotesque creature that wailed incessantly for its unknown parent. In order to survive, Alice had to play along with the Duchess's sick game, all the while plotting her escape. After calming the angry Duchess, Alice took the pig-baby and was able to soothe its tears. Pleased by her efforts, the Duchess invited her to share her dinner, a meal of boiled human heads. Alice managed to skip her food under the table and the Duchess was delighted that she had "enjoyed" her cook's food. The next course was to a very fat cat hung trapped in a cage. Alice was able to free the cat by lacing the Duchess's tea with gin and distracting the cook by tipping the pepperbox into the cauldron of boiling oil which the cook intended to deep-fry the cat. As the oil exploded with clouds of pepper, Alice was able to free the cat, fleeing the estate.
"After being guided by the Cheshire Cat in escaping the Duchess and her cook, he suggested her to find refuge at a peculiar tea party hosted by a Mad Hatter rather than a temperamental, drunk March Hare. As she sat amongst the eccentric guests, she caught the eye of a young village hatter who was enamoured by her wit and bravery. Despite the impending danger looming over Wonderland, a spark of forbidden love ignited between the young hatter and Alice, setting into motion a tragic chain of events that would forever alter the course of their lives."
A madman in love with a human? I can see a resemblance in my family line, Ellius thought wryly. "Are these your memories, Mama?"
"No. Not mine, my love. This is of Alice, the First Queen of Wonderland. "
"How did you get these memories?"
Melia traced a crimson-painted nail over the jigsaw puzzle, circling Alice and her kneeling lover. " Fayre destroyed our stories of Wonderland. I would not let him destroy all, so I went to Time."
Ellius nearly dropped the Time Box. "What? What did you bargain?" Her voice was tense. Ask Time himself, was a deal with the Devil. Never bargain with Time as he'll always ask for more than you can give.
"I knew what I was stepping into," she whispered, gazing longingly into the picture. " Nothing comes from time without breaking you. But I was already broken, and I knew he could take nothing from me. I have him what he wanted."
"And that was...?"
"Why don't you finish the puzzles? The truth reveals itself at the end of the story."
Ellius broke down the second jigsaw puzzle and dropped it into their slotted box. The third memory pieces were shaped out of animals: Cats. Each piece overlapped the other, tail to head, or paw to face, until a picture revealed itself in the box. The disc began to spin again.
"Wonderland was being ruled under its tyrant, Jared, the King of Hearts. And he held the key to the Rabbit Hole which was a gate to Wonderland's escape. The White Rabbit had been captured and its people were suffering. The Hatter explained that they could be free by finding the magical Looking-Glass, a portal to another world where they could live in peace and freedom from the King of Hearts. Alice agreed to help their plight and search for the Looking-Glass, to save Wonderland and its people.
"Infiltrating the dungeons, the Hatter and Alice discovered the White Rabbit's chained body. He was on the brink of death, but before his last breath, he told them where the key was and the formula for the Looking-Glass. The Looking-Glass pieces were found scattered throughout Wonderland and were joined together. At last, the chance of freedom was here! To get the people of Wonderland safely across, they would have to cause a distraction for the King of Hearts. It was Alice's mission to get into his castle. She had to kill the King of Hearts. She almost completed her mission, but was captured by the King. Alice was thrown into the dungeons and sentenced to the Executioner's axe. The King agreed to spare her life if she revealed the Hatter's hiding place. She refused. Soon, the Heart soldiers discovered the hidden Mad Tea Party and destroyed it. They found the Hatter, but not before he hid the key for the Looking-Glass. He was dragged into the dungeons and sentenced along with Alice."
Ellius felt a shiver run down her spine. The image of Alice standing behind the heart-shaped bars, tears streaming down her porcelain face. Behind her stood a man. Tassled golden-honeycomb brown hair. Mismatched mottled gold and sapphire blue eyes. Stark gray skin and a ripped purple tophat. They stood defiant before a towering man, with a gold pointed crown made of ruby hearts. A prison with the King of Hearts.
Ellius could not see his face; only his back, which was adorned in plated ruby and black armour, his body set in rage. Like Father's rage. If is his rage is traced from Wonderland...
As Ellius pieced together the final memories in the Time Box, the truth of Wonderland's dark past unfolded before her eyes. It was all gray, blue, and blood.
"Jared, the King of Hearts became bewitched by the beautiful woman and often visited her, offering her gifts in all for one exchange: a single word from her. She remained silent. Jared became desperate, with no sleep, not eating anything, and pleading on his knees before Alice for a word. He said he would set her and the Hatter free and abdicate his throne in exchange for a word from her. Alice softened her heart and turned to him and spoke kindly. That night the King set the degree of his abdication of Wonderland and the release of Alice and the Mad Hatter.
"In a final act of defiance and love, Alice sealed her fate with a single word that shattered the King of Hearts' fragile heart. As tragedy befell Wonderland and its inhabitants, the legacy of Alice and the Mad Hatter lived on, forever intertwined with the dark heart of the kingdom. He spared Alice and made her his Queen of Wonderland, whether she liked it or not. Alice gave birth to his child, a son named Ayden, and happiness came to him for the sake of Alice and his kingdom."
The tragic fate of the Mad Hatter, murdered in a fit of jealous rage by the King of Hearts, sent a cold chill through Ellius' soul. In the heart of the record, a scene unfolded echoing tales of ancient lineage and destiny. Nestled in a pristine cradle of polished wood rested a newborn babe, swathed in the soft embrace of white lace. Alice, resplendent in her gown adorned with crimson slashes and layers of delicate lace, leaned over the cradle, her eyes filled with both tenderness and trepidation. In her arms, she cradled a plush teddy bear, its button eyes seeming to mirror the innocence of the child before her.
Beside her stood the King of Hearts, regal and imposing, his sceptre gleaming with the brilliance of a thousand rubies. With a low crown of gold adorning his brow, he too gazed upon the babe with a mixture of reverence and duty. In his hands, he held the symbol of his authority, a sceptre fashioned in the shape of a colossal heart, a testament to the power and legacy of the Line of Hearts.
The roots of their lineage traced back to the fabled realm of Estela, where the blood of Wonderland flowed through their veins, an unbroken chain of royal descent. Alice, born into nobility, found herself bound by the threads of fate to the King of Hearts, a marriage forged in duty rather than desire, yet essential to preserve the purity of the Line of Hearts. Their union was a testament to the solemn vow to safeguard their heritage, untainted by imperfection or corruption.
"What happened to Wonderland?" asked Ellius, her fingers slack around the picture.
"It was the ultimate betrayal and tragedy of Alice's own son, Ayden, that left the King reeling. The child born of forbidden love and sacrifice, only to meet a tragic end at the hands of his own mother. Ayden possessed a special gift. This gift, considered by Jared as a power, allowed him as to navigate through Wonderland by his son's bloodline with ease and grace, to all who encountered him.
"However, there was a dark shadow cast over Wonderland. Alice believed that it would cause a fracture in the kingdom and knew what her husband wanted. In a desperate and twisted attempt to maintain control, Alice made a horrifying decision. One fateful night, Alice committed a heinous act, taking the life of her own innocent baby and burying its head in the dark depths of the forest. The news of this gruesome deed spread like wildfire, causing grief and outrage among the kingdom's inhabitants. Jared, it was said, went mad with heartbreak for a second time, and this time, he spared no one. He killed Alice. And sent her head throughout Wonderland on the tip of the spearhead. He became possessive and raving mad, ravaging Wonderland and its inhabitants. After sixteen wars in his kingdom, he found a woman. Red hair. Black eyes like coals, and a mad, poisoned heart exactly like his. She became his Red Queen and it believed they were never in love, but shared the same taste of destruction...
"And so, the tale of Wonderland's lost queen and her beloved hatter became etched in the annals of history, a haunting reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath the whimsical façade of a once-thriving kingdom. For in Wonderland, love and madness walked hand in hand, leaving behind a legacy of sorrow and longing that echoed through the ages."
Melia closed the lid of the Time Box. If one chanced to peek inside; all they would see is an artist's paint box. Nothing more. Nothing less.
The echoes of Alice's story, of forbidden love and heart-breaking betrayal, would stay with her forever, a haunting reminder of the consequences of love gone wrong in a world consumed by darkness.
"Is this story true?" Ellius asked. "What happened next?" she asked, her voice trembling with anticipation.
Melia smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "That, my dear, is for you to decide," she said, her voice a whisper carried on the wings of imagination. "For in the world of stories, all stories come from the Story Keepers. Most refuse to believe, but Ellius, my dear anything is possible. And it is up to you to write the ending you desire."
A tap at the door and one of Melia's ladies entered. "Your Majesty, His Majesty calls you to court."
"By all means, I will go. " Melia rose, dusting off the bread crumbs from her pale pink skirts lined with black silk. "Have you decided the names for your court, my love?"
"No..." she faltered. Secrets lurked in every shadow and dangerous alliances were made in the Royal court.
"You might as well, before night." Melia swept out of the doors. "Keep your temper tonight, my love."
Elliis felt a whoosh in her lungs. She was supposed to choose out of all those animals at the wretched ball tonight for her court. Certainly not Mardoc!
She placed the secret Time Box, the mysterious artifact that held the power to alter destinies on her mother's dresser, picked up the empty breakfast tray, and left the empty chambers. Her breakfast tray was stone-cold and congealed in its dishes. She'd pick up a fresh batch in the kitchens. Marcie noted her arrival and within minutes had whipped up another breakfast tray.
" Fresh muffins, gingerbread, and cheese, Your Highness."
"Can you double the muffins and add a bowl of pumpkin soup?"
It was done swiftly and Ellius took the tray, this time, heading toward the towers. The northern tower was empty, as it always was. It faced the lashing of the storms and their hail and rain, standing defiant in their batterings. Balancing the tray on her hip, she removed a jewelled golden key from her pocket. The door at the bottom was open. Painted on the iron was a symbol: A Spade. The Healers.
She hesitated at the threshold, the heavy oak door creaking open with a sinister groan. The dim light within cast eerie shadows, dancing along the walls like spectres in the night. The air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and acrid ointments, assaulting her senses as she entered the room.
Stopping an explosive sneeze, she pinched her nose shut, her heart pounding in her chest. Marble slabs gleamed dully in the dim light, adorned with implements that seemed better suited to a torture chamber than a healing sanctum. Mortars brimmed with wilted leaves, their once vibrant colours now faded and lifeless. And there, amidst the death-like chamber, were bowls stained with the unmistakable hue of blood.
A figure turned towards her, their hands dripping with crimson, a length of bandage soaked in herbal oil clutched in their grasp. "Ah, Your Highness," they crooned, their voice laced with a chilling familiarity that sent shivers down her spine.
"How is he?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, though it echoed through the chamber like a death knell.
"We sweated the fever from him," the figure replied, their tone unnervingly calm. "He's exhausted, but his brain is clear."
As those words hung in the air, she felt the tight grip loosen in her heart.
This was her second secret.
For within these walls, the dead were not mourned but harvested for their souls, their essence trapped within glass prisons for all eternity. And the dying were granted a twisted mercy, their suffering ended swiftly, their souls consigned to her father's ghastly collection.
Her father's Collection of Glass Souls was a grotesque marvel, whispered of in hushed tones throughout the kingdom. It was said that everyone dreaded for their heart to be added to its chilling display, for once ensnared within those crystalline confines, there was no escape from the eternal torment that awaited them.
The Healers, forbidden and feared for their abilities to transcend life and death, held the key to unlocking the secrets that bound them all. In her father's reign, all healers had been executed, and forbidden to work their practice. "The dead are for harvesting— as like with the dying. They are to be bought to the King."
Ellius had first found the boy stumbling through the graveyards six months ago.
In the moonlit graveyard of Estela, where shadows danced like spectres and the whispers of the dead echoed through the cold night air, Princess Ellius had stumbled upon a scene that sent shivers down her spine. The boy, covered in filth and fresh blood, his neck gushing crimson like a river of gore, had emerged from the earth like a phantom risen from the depths of the underworld.
As she'd unravelled the twisted tale of his gruesome resurrection, Ellius had discovered a dark secret buried in the heart of the kingdom. The Queen's men, driven by sinister motives and unholy desires, had conspired to bury an old man in a shallow grave, his decaying flesh a vessel for the boy's tortured soul. Touched by the malevolent essence that seeped from the rotting corpse, the boy had clawed his way to the surface, only to find himself trapped in a labyrinth of unmarked graves, haunted by the restless spirits of the dead.
His mind ravaged by madness, his words a cryptic chant of doom and despair, the boy's ramblings had painted a harrowing portrait of a world consumed by darkness. "White on black. White on black. The Knave went snicker-snack," he muttered, his eyes wide with terror as he'd spoken of the Red Queen and the crown she coveted, a crown forged from the hearts of the damned.
Moved by compassion and a sense of duty, Ellius had spirited the boy away to the safety of the stables, where shadows lurked in the corners and the scent of fear hung heavy in the air. With the help of her mother's former healers, women who had sacrificed their powers to serve the Queen's twisted will, she'd nursed the boy back from the brink of death, tending to his fevered delirium and fragmented memories with tender care.
But as she gazed upon his pale, clammy skin and the jagged scar that marred his throat like a grisly badge of honour, Ellius realized the grim truth that lurked beneath the surface. The boy, a vessel for dark forces beyond his control, was already a lost soul, his fate entwined with the macabre dance of the dead that pulsed through the heart of Estela.
And as the sun rose over the horizon, casting a tenebrous veil over the land, Ellius felt a chill seep into her bones, a premonition of the horrors yet to unfold in the shadows of the north tower, where the boy's whispered prophecies echoed like a dirge for the doomed souls of the kingdom.
He was already a dead man.
His throat had been cut clean through with a jiggered knife. Silver. Gold. Or bronze? All that remained was a constant bleed of blood from a jagged scar slashing diagonally across his throat.