The darkness in the chamber clung to Seraphina like a second skin.
For a moment, all she could hear was the thrum of her pulse in her ears. The flickering candlelight had vanished with the King's parting words, and she was left alone in the suffocating silence. The room felt alive, as if it were watching her, waiting for her next move.
She clenched her fists to stop them from trembling.
Survive the court's judgment before dawn.
But what did that mean? No one had explained the rules, if there even were any. This place was built on power games, silent wars, and blood-soaked promises. Whatever was coming for her wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be kind.
A soft rustle broke the silence.
Seraphina spun around, her instincts raw and frayed, only to find a hooded figure slipping from the shadows. Not one of the guards — this one moved too quietly, their steps careful, calculated.
"You don't belong here," the figure whispered, their voice feminine, laced with warning and something else… pity.
Seraphina didn't lower her guard. "Then tell me what I'm meant to do."
The figure hesitated. A pale hand reached up, pulling back the hood just enough to reveal sharp features and storm-gray eyes. She looked barely older than Seraphina, though the wariness in her gaze hinted at years of surviving in this cruel palace.
"They won't fight you with swords this time," the girl murmured. "They'll bleed you with whispers. Lies. Alliances you don't see coming until a dagger's in your back."
Seraphina's throat tightened. "And you? Why warn me?"
A humorless smile curved the girl's lips. "Because I was once like you. Chosen. Tested. I survived, but I left pieces of myself in this place." She stepped closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial hush. "Not everyone wants the King to win this game."
Before Seraphina could ask more, footsteps echoed in the hall beyond. The girl tensed, her gaze darting toward the door. "Remember this — power doesn't always belong to the strongest. Sometimes it's the one who knows when to strike, and when to kneel."
And just like that, the girl melted back into the shadows.
The heavy doors creaked open.
A different figure entered this time — a man cloaked in crimson, his face obscured by a mask shaped like a wolf's snarl. He didn't speak, only gestured for her to follow.
Seraphina swallowed hard and obeyed.
The palace had changed.
Gone were the grand halls and polished floors. The passage they entered was narrow and damp, lined with old stones etched with runes that seemed to pulse with faint light. She could hear voices ahead, low and vicious.
The court.
They entered a circular chamber, stone walls closing in, lit by an eerie green glow. Figures gathered around a long obsidian table, their faces obscured by masks — birds, beasts, and monsters. The only one without a mask was Lucian.
He stood at the head of the table, his silver hair a beacon in the gloom. His eyes found hers immediately.
"Let the judgment begin," he announced, voice smooth as silk but sharp as a knife.
The court turned toward her as one, a dozen predatory stares behind their masks.
Seraphina's skin prickled.
One by one, they began to speak.
False accusations. Twisted rumors. Insinuations about her past, her loyalties, even her bloodline. They painted her as a traitor, a liar, an opportunist. The cruelty wasn't in the words themselves, but in the way they were delivered — casual, indifferent, like throwing scraps to wolves and watching them tear each other apart.
She realized then: this was the true test.
Not about strength, but about enduring humiliation, navigating deceit, and knowing when to bite back.
Her nails dug into her palm. She wouldn't break. Not here. Not in front of them.
When they fell silent, Lucian stepped forward.
"Do you deny these claims?" he asked, though his voice suggested it didn't matter.
Seraphina forced herself to meet his gaze. "I deny nothing fabricated by cowards hiding behind masks. If any of you wish to test my loyalty, do it with a blade, not your tongue."
A ripple moved through the court.
Lucian's mouth twitched — the closest thing to a smirk she'd seen on him.
"Bold," he murmured. "I like that."
He lifted a hand, and a bell chimed somewhere beyond the walls.
"The trial isn't over," Lucian declared. "But you've bought yourself a few more hours. We'll see if your fire lasts till dawn."
The court dispersed like shadows on the wind, leaving Seraphina alone in the flickering gloom.
She exhaled a shaky breath.
Dawn felt like a lifetime away.