The Crown Slips in Silence
The corridors of the palace were lined with gold, but today they felt like hollow tombs.
Prince Derek moved swiftly through them, his boots striking the marble in a steady, echoing rhythm. The sunlight outside struggled to break through the heavy velvet drapes, casting the halls in a dim, claustrophobic gloom.
Servants flitted out of his way like startled birds, their heads bowed low. No one spoke.No one dared.
Something had settled over the palace — a thing without shape, but so thick that even the most hardened guards shivered when the wind rattled the tall windows.
And Derek, though he had not yet seen it, felt it pressing down on him with every step.
The summons had come urgently:
"Your Majesty calls for you. It is King Aldric."
He reached the King's chambers.
The two royal guards at the door wore grim faces, but they said nothing. They merely stepped aside, their armor clinking softly in the oppressive silence.
Derek hesitated a moment before pushing open the heavy oak doors.
What he found inside rooted him to the threshold.
The room, once warm and opulent, seemed dim and foreign now.The hearth crackled weakly, unable to chase away the chill that clung to the thick draperies and velvet carpets.
On the massive canopy bed — a bed carved from the sacred woods of the Ancestor Forests — lay King Aldric.
The man who had once led armies with his sword raised high, whose voice had commanded kings and generals alike — now lay shrunken and pale against the sea of white linen.
His hands, once strong enough to bend iron in fury, trembled against the covers.
At his side sat Queen Dowgar — rigid, composed in her severe black gown.Her expression was carved of marble.But her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, shook faintly.
Derek's chest tightened at the sight.
"Father," he said hoarsely, stepping forward.
The king's eyelids fluttered weakly. His lips moved, cracked and dry.
Derek dropped to one knee at the bedside, taking his father's gnarled hand in both of his.
"It's me. Derek."
The king's eyes opened — clouded, unfocused.Fear shone there, sharp and wild.
Then, barely above a whisper, a single word rasped out of his throat:
"Lucifer."
The name seemed to scrape against the walls themselves.The flames in the hearth guttered violently.
Derek's blood turned to ice.
He heard the queen inhale sharply — a tremor she could not hide — but otherwise, she remained silent.
"Father..." Derek said urgently, "what do you mean?"
The king's breath rattled.
"He is here.""Among us.""The barrier... broken... somehow."
The king gripped Derek's wrist suddenly, a surprising strength surging through his frail body, bruising the skin.
"You must walk in peace with your brothers... protect the line... protect the kingdom..."
His eyes widened in terror.
"If he takes the throne... if he takes the bloodline... all will fall."
He convulsed weakly, his words fading into a whisper.
"Promise me, Derek. Promise..."
Derek bent lower, forehead almost against the bed.
"I swear it, Father. On my life. On my blood. I will protect us."
King Aldric's hand loosened.
His head slumped back against the pillows.
For a long moment, Derek could only listen to the faint, labored breathing of the king, and the whispering crackle of the half-dead fire.
The Queen stood.
Without a word, she turned toward the door.
Derek rose, following after her.
As they walked down the darkened hall, their footsteps eerily muffled by the thick crimson rugs, Derek studied her from the corner of his eye.
There was something wrong.
Not just grief.Not just fear.
Awareness.
"Mother," he said quietly, "you knew."
The Queen's lips tightened, but she said nothing.
"You were not surprised when he said the name," Derek pressed. "You did not even flinch."
Queen Dowgar halted abruptly in the corridor.
She turned slowly to face him.
Her face was pale and beautiful, framed by the silver combs of mourning tradition. But her eyes—oh, her eyes—were cold pools of calculation and dread.
"There are things," she said, her voice low and hard, "that even kings and queens are powerless to prevent. Even in their own halls."
She stepped closer, close enough for Derek to see the tiny tremor in her hands.
"Do not waste your strength grieving," she whispered fiercely. "You are needed elsewhere. You are needed to survive."
"Mother—" Derek began, but she cut him off.
"Attend to the council," she said sharply. "Tend the kingdom. Bury your fears."
Without another word, she swept down the hall, her dark gown whispering like the brush of a funeral shroud.
Derek stood frozen for a long moment, the dying torches hissing along the walls.
Something had begun.And it would not be stopped.
The council meeting was held before sunset.
Only the chief councilors, senior generals, and the royal family attended — an emergency gathering cloaked in whispered fears and restless glares.
The chamber was vast, circular, its ceiling lost in shadow. Tall arched windows stared down like blind eyes.The onyx throne stood at the head of the room, empty, waiting.
Derek climbed the steps without ceremony and sat.
The great golden sigil of the kingdom — a sun entwined with a crescent moon — loomed behind him, cold and distant.
The chamber fell silent.
Derek rose slightly from the throne, voice even but heavy.
"The King, my father, King Aldric, grows weaker with each day. Until his health is restored, I will assume the duties of the crown as Regent."
A soft murmur rippled through the council.
Derek continued:
"Prince Cason will oversee the council and the fortifications at the eastern borders. Prince Amir will manage internal palace affairs and security."
He paused, letting the announcement settle into the bones of the room.
Old Minister Hareth, his voice quavering with age and fear, stood first.
"Your Highness... the rumors... the fires at the eastern quarters... the whispers of..."He hesitated, as if the name itself were poison.
"The Devil."
The word dropped into the hall like a stone.
All heads turned to Derek.
Cason's jaw tightened beside him.Amir shifted uneasily.
Derek lifted his chin.
"We are investigating the breach," he said steadily. "Before the week's end, you will have an answer."
Another wave of murmuring — worried, uncertain.
And across the room, lounging as if he had all the time in the world, Chief Caspian smiled a thin, oily smile.
His black-ringed fingers tapped lightly against his knee.
He said nothing.
But Derek saw the hunger glittering in his dark eyes.
At that moment, Mawi — Derek's loyal steward — hurried up the steps, bowing low.
He whispered into Derek's ear:
"Your Highness... Elowen... the maid... she is missing."
Derek's stomach twisted.
He kept his face still by sheer force of will.
He nodded once, sharply.
"Say nothing."
Mawi bowed and retreated.
The council resumed its muttered discussions — about border fortifications, about military readiness, about prayers to the Moon Goddess.
But Derek heard none of it.
The kingdom was rotting from within.The Devil had breached the walls.And Elowen — his only fragile connection to understanding what was coming — was gone.
And somewhere in the sea of nodding, whispering, plotting men, Caspian smiled wider.
Let them bicker, he thought.Let them fall into ruin.
Lucifer had returned.And nothing—not kings, not crowns, not oaths—would be enough to stop what was coming.