“They’re almost ready, Your Highness.”
Lady Elsera’s gentle voice pulled me away from the balcony railing. I glanced over my shoulder and found her adjusting the folds of my silver cloak, her fingers careful, practiced.
“The whole city is waiting,” she said with a smile. “You shouldn’t keep them.”
“I know.”
My eyes drifted back to the square below.
Thousands of lanterns bathed the capital of Aurelia in warm gold, chasing away the night. Every street overflowed with people. Music echoed from every corner. Children darted between laughing adults with painted wooden swords in their hands.
Tonight was the Night of Remembrance.
The kingdom’s favorite celebration.
The night we honored the victory over the Monster King.
I had attended every year since I could remember, yet something about it had never settled comfortably inside me.
“You look troubled,” Elsera murmured.
“Do I?”
“A little.”
“I was just thinking.”
“Dangerous habit for a princess.”
I laughed softly.
“So I’ve been told.”
The palace bells rang across the city.
The crowd erupted into cheers.
“It’s starting,” Elsera whispered.
Below us, the great stage came alive.
An elderly storyteller stepped into the center, wrapped in heavy black robes embroidered with silver stars. He raised a carved staff, and silence spread through the crowd as if someone had stolen every sound from the city.
His voice carried effortlessly.
“Long before any of us were born,” he began, “there lived a monster whose hunger knew no mercy.”
The children pressed closer.
“He ruled beyond the Black Divide, where darkness swallowed the sky and rivers carried blood instead of water.”
Gasps rippled through the audience.
“He destroyed villages.”
“He devoured kings.”
“He cursed the land itself.”
The storyteller lifted one trembling hand toward the distant mountains barely visible beneath the moonlight.
“And when humanity stood on the edge of extinction…”
A drum thundered.
“Our ancestors rose together.”
Actors dressed as knights rushed onto the stage.
“They crossed the Divide.”
More drums.
“They defeated the beast.”
The crowd cheered.
“They saved the world.”
The applause became deafening.
Around me, even palace servants smiled with pride.
Only I remained quiet.
The performance continued as actors dressed as twisted monsters stumbled across the stage, snarling dramatically before falling beneath wooden swords. Children laughed every time another “monster” collapsed.
One little boy couldn’t have been older than six.
He jumped onto the stage, pretending to stab one of the actors.
“I got him!” he shouted.
The square erupted into delighted laughter.
My smile faded.
“They’re only children,” Elsera said softly, noticing my expression.
“I know.”
“They’re playing.”
“I know.”
But why did celebrating victory require teaching children to hate?
The question had followed me for years.
I had asked my tutors once.
Their answer had been immediate.
Because monsters deserve hatred.
No one had offered another explanation.
Trumpets sounded again.
The final act began.
Two guards dragged an enormous straw effigy onto the stage.
Its horns curved toward the sky.
Its face was carved into a permanent snarl.
“The Monster King!” someone shouted.
“The beast!”
“Burn him!”
The chant spread through the square.
“Burn him!”
“Burn him!”
“Burn him!”
Torches touched the straw.
Flames climbed higher.
Children clapped and parents laughed.
The burning figure collapsed into sparks that floated toward the night sky.
Everyone celebrated.
Everyone…
Except me.
“Your Highness?”
Elsera’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
“Yes?”
“You’re frowning.”
“I didn’t realize.”
She studied me for a moment.
“You always look at this festival differently.”
“I suppose I do.”
“Why?”
I hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
It was the truth.
I didn’t understand why the celebration left a weight in my chest.
Perhaps I was simply imagining it.
Perhaps I was too sentimental.
Perhaps—
A sharp crack split the sky.
Every conversation stopped.
Every head lifted.
Far beyond the western mountains…
Above the Black Divide…
The heavens fractured with streaks of crimson lightning.
Not white nor blue but red.
The color spread across the clouds like blood spilling through water.
Someone screamed below.
Another bolt crashed across the horizon.
The palace trembled.
Then the earth roared.
The balcony lurched violently beneath my feet.
I grabbed the stone railing before I could fall.
“Princess!” Elsera cried as she stumbled into me.
The palace shook again.
Glass shattered somewhere behind us.
Statues toppled.
People in the square scattered in every direction.
Children cried.Horses reared.
The music stopped.
Another violent tremor ripped through the capital.
Dust poured from the palace walls.
“It’s an earthquake!” someone shouted.
“No…”
An elderly priest dropped to his knees in the courtyard below.
“It can’t be.”
The shaking finally slowed.
Silence settled over the city.
Not peaceful silence.
The stunned silence that follows disaster.
Then came the pounding of hooves.
A rider raced through the palace gates so quickly his horse nearly collapsed beneath him.
“Open the way!”
Guards rushed forward.
The messenger barely waited for the animal to stop before throwing himself onto the ground.
“I must see His Majesty!”
The urgency in his voice sent another chill through me.
Moments later, I entered the throne room with Elsera close behind.
My father already stood before the messenger.
The royal council gathered around him.
General Kaelor Thorne still wore ceremonial armor from the festival.
High Chancellor Vorakis Ravenoir watched in complete silence, his face impossible to read.
The messenger struggled to breathe.
“My king…”
“Speak,” Father ordered.
The young man swallowed hard.
“There are… there are no survivors.”
A heavy silence filled the chamber.
“Survivors of what?” General Kaelor demanded.
The messenger looked as though he wished the answer were different.
“The villages nearest the Black Divide.”
My pulse quickened.
“What happened to them?” Father asked.
“We don’t know.”
The room stiffened.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Kaelor stepped forward.
“They’re… gone.”
“Gone?”
“The villages disappeared overnight.”
Nobody spoke.
The messenger’s hands trembled.
“We searched everything.”
“Houses?”
“Missing.”
“The people?”
“No bodies.”
“Any wounded?”
“No, General.”
“Signs of battle?”
The messenger slowly shook his head.
“There was nothing.”
His voice broke.
“No blood.”
“No tracks.”
“No ashes.”
“No survivors.”
“It was as though…”
He couldn’t finish.
“As though what?” Father asked quietly.
“They never existed.”
A cold silence settled over the throne room.
General Kaelor’s jaw tightened.
“The Monster King,” he said.
No one challenged him.
“The beast has finally made his move.”
Around the room, fearful whispers spread.
War.
The Divide.
Monsters.
Revenge.
I looked toward the palace windows.
Far away…
The crimson lightning still stained the horizon.
Something about it felt wrong.
Not victorious.
Not threatening.
Warning.
As though the sky itself was trying to tell us something we had forgotten.
Far beyond the Black Divide, where no human eyes could see, an immortal king stood alone beneath the same crimson sky.
King Zaevor Drakhar stared toward Aurelia.
Fear—not triumph—shadowed his ancient face.
His voice was barely more than a whisper.
“It’s beginning again.”
He closed his eyes.
“If they don’t remember the covenant…”
When he opened them, they held only dread.
“They’ll all die.”
