The royal palace reeked of rotting power.
Velvet curtains had been drawn tight against the daylight, casting the throne room in a dim red glow. Torchlight flickered against the obsidian floors, reflecting twisted shadows of the beings who walked them. Queen Lorelei stood like a viper at the top of the dais, her lips blood red and curled into a snarl.
"You dare lay hands on me again, Kristoff?" she hissed, clutching her cheek where his handprint burned bright.
King Kristoff towered over her, golden hair wild, eyes rimmed with fire. "You speak to me of daring? While your spies whisper like rats in my court and your failures mount by the day?"
They circled each other like apex predators ready to tear flesh.
But the truth they ignored was festering under their feet.
Kristoff's mind was unraveling, and he didn't know it. Not yet. Not fully. The woman he'd been visiting at night, an enchantress with raven hair and stormcloud eyes, had been feeding him more than just lust. She dripped the Entity's madness into his thoughts, poisoned his dreams, made him see betrayal in every corner. His court trembled at the snap of his fingers. His executions had become a daily spectacle.
Heads rolled. Literally.
And Faenet? Faenet was on fire.
👤@WyrmWatchQueen: Did anyone see that clip of Arwen and Princess Gailia confessing the royal family tortured slaves for fun? That's not leadership. That's fucking deranged.
👤@SpicedWineFae: If Rhiannan is the true goddess, then let her rise. We've seen what Lorelei and Kristoff offer: fear and death.
👤@WitchBitch69: Rebellion is trending. I repeat. REBELLION IS TRENDING. #RiseForTheGoddess #PentaclePower
👤@SwoleShifterDaddy: Lorelei can glamour herself all day but you can't un fuck a cursed soul. Just sayin'. #teamrhiannan
👤@SwordAndSmut: Why does the King's forehead vein always look like it's about to pop? That man's one twitch away from a breakdown. Y'all see it?
Gailia's confession, paired with Arwen's calm, factual retelling of the horrors behind the palace doors, had broken open the illusion. The court was no longer a crown; it was a cracked mask.
Now, in the depths of the palace, beneath floors soaked in secrets, the Queen and her loyalists descended into the basement. Stone walls lined with bones and sigils, the air thick with blood magic. They passed the flayed bodies of failed spies, their screams long silenced.
At the end of the hallway, seated on a throne made of skulls, sat the Bone Seer.
Her eyes were pits of ink, skin paper thin, long fingers adorned with bones of infants and lovers and kings.
She did not bow. Not even for Lorelei.
"You seek to break the Pentacle," the Bone Seer rasped, her voice like wind through a graveyard. "But it is written. Bound by flesh and star. You can only shatter what bleeds."
Lorelei sneered. "Tell me where they are. What they plan. Or I'll have your bones turned to powder."
The Seer only smiled. Her gums were black. Her teeth, needle thin. "Then listen to the bones."
She raised her arms and the chamber walls shrieked as runes ignited. Magic surged through the floor, illuminating a massive bone mirror. A portal of sorts.
It shimmered, then pulsed.
And suddenly, Rhiannan and her mates flickered into view. Laughing. Bickering. Covered in blood, bruises, and magic. Together. Strong.
The queen snarled. "They look like fucking gods."
Kristoff twitched beside her. His fingernails bled as he clenched his fists. "Then let us rain down hell."
The Bone Seer laughed, a sound that made even shadows recoil.
"You may try, king," she crooned. "But she is awakening. And the gods are watching."
Deep beneath the royal castle, in a crypt laced with old blood and dusted with bone ash, the Bone Seer moved with unnatural grace. Her robes were stitched from human hair, her fingers etched with runes that pulsed with a sickly green glow. The court thought she served them, but fools often saw what they wanted to see.
She knelt before the massive obsidian mirror in the farthest chamber of the crypt, where the temperature dropped to near freezing and no torchlight could linger. The mirror flickered. Warped. Then bled shadows down its surface.
A face appeared, shifting and formless, wrapped in smoke.
The shadow master.
The Entity.
"You dare to spy on her again?" the voice hissed through the glass, so thick with fury it cracked the edges of the frame.
"I must. They grow stronger with each bond," the Bone Seer whispered, bowing low. "But I've seen the flaw. She is remembering. That makes her vulnerable. If she remembers the rest..."
The mirror pulsed. "Delay them. You will not touch her until I say so. Target the mates. Break them. Turn them on each other."
The Bone Seer smiled, all yellow teeth and vile glee. "Yes, my lord. I already planted the spell. The cracks will form."
"Good," the Entity seethed. "And what of the King?"
She licked her cracked lips. "Losing his mind. Soon, he'll tear down his own court with his madness. He suspects nothing of the girl in his bed."
A pause.
A scream.
And the mirror flared bright, just for a moment, showing a glimpse of that girl's true form...Shadow spawn, Twisted. Sleeper agent.
The Seer laughed softly, a sound like dry leaves snapping underfoot.
"Let the world burn. And when it does, I will feast on her bones."