The sun hadn't risen yet, but the sky had turned silver—caught between night and the day.
Velrith didn't want to wake.
She wanted to sleep. To rest. To breathe without fire burning at her lungs.
But she knew better.
Every moment of weakness, every slip, was a crack the darkness inside her could crawl through.
And she couldn't allow that.
Not now. Not ever.
So she dressed. Quietly. With purpose.
And stepped barefoot into the cold air of the courtyard.
Determined.
Ready.
Velrith stood in the training grounds once more. No fear in her stance. No hesitation in her breath.
Warming up for the punishment wrapped under the guise of training.
The bruises from yesterday were still fresh.
But her spirit?
Sharper than ever.
She wasn't here to impress her father.
Not anymore.
She was here to fight what lived inside her.
To forge herself into someone strong enough to bear the crown with its thorns...
Without losing her soul.
Kraves stood in the center of the yard, arms folded, blade resting across his back.
He was surprised she'd returned.
After yesterday's beatdown, he hadn't expected it.
But the curve of his lip told her he was glad she had.
"So," he drawled. "You returned."
Velrith said nothing.
She dropped her cloak. Picked up the same blunt training blade. Rolled her shoulders.
"The King gave the order," Kraves added. "I train you now. With blade. With fire. Until he says otherwise."
He unsheathed his jagged weapon. Notched, battle-worn, still dangerous.
"Are you ready to bleed again, little flame?"
"I'm ready to learn," she said flatly.
"Same thing."
The first strike came before she could blink.
Kraves never held back. Not for nobles. Not for heirs.
And definitely not for girls who thought they could be queens.
Steel clanged against steel.
He moved like a beast unchained—fast, ruthless, heavy.
His style wasn't her father's.
His style developed from the countless battle.
It wasn't precise.
It was brutal.
She blocked—barely.
Parried—sloppily.
Dodged—just in time.
Then rolled under a sweeping arc meant to take her head off.
"You've stopped waiting for your father's praise," Kraves said between swings. "Good. I can feel it."
He slammed his shoulder into hers, knocking her flat on her back.
"But now you're fighting for something else."
"Something darker."
[Velrith's POV]
His strikes were faster today.
Ugly. Underhanded
His insults sharper.
But none of it mattered.
Not compared to what I was fighting inside.
She stirred beneath my skin.
That other version of me.
The one I saw on the throne of bones.
The one that wanted out.
And part of me...
Wanted to let her.
Just a little.
Just enough to push back.
Just enough to show Kraves what happens when I stop begging for power—
And start becoming it.
Kraves lunged again.
I let the blade graze my arm.
The pain didn't matter.
I stepped in—too close—and headbutted him so hard his breath caught.
He staggered, blinking.
Then laughed.
"Finally!" he roared. "There's the monster I've been waiting for!"
I didn't speak.
I pressed forward.
More strikes. More blood. My blade burned in my grip—hot from friction and fury.
But I didn't feel the weight of it anymore.
Because I wasn't the one swinging it.
She was.
But I didn't lose control.
Not this time.
I took what I needed.
Her speed.Her strength.Her hunger.
But I stayed me.
That was the victory.
A small one.
A taste of power—borrowed, not surrendered.
Kraves blocked. Dodged.
On the last pass, I pivoted—using a move my father once punished me for.
Low kick. Mud flying.
This time—
It landed.
His footing slipped.
My blade was at his throat before he even hit the dirt.
He looked up at me.
And smiled.
Not mockery.
Something closer to Respect.
"You're not your father," he said. "You're worse."
I didn't lower the blade.
"Do you kneel?" I asked softly.
He hesitated.
Then placed one fist to his chest and bowed his head.
"If you live long enough to wear that crown… I'll follow you to hell."
I stepped back.
My heart still raced. My hands still trembled.
But I had won.
Not just the fight.
The balance.
And just before the wind shifted, I felt it.
Someone watching.
From the shadows beyond the courtyard.
A presence—cold, quiet, and female.
But not her.
Not my darkness.
Someone else.
Someone I had to investigate.
[Dreamscape – Velrith's POV]
Later that night, I stood before her again.
She lounged on her throne of bone and obsidian—unbothered, monstrous, magnificent.
At her feet, a massive demonic dragon slumbered, its chest rising and falling like a brewing storm.
The air pulsed with heat, with decay… with ancient power.
"You came," she said, her voice rich and resonant—like thunder wrapped in silk.
I stepped forward, uncertain, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Thank you… for granting me your strength."
She chuckled—a sound that shake the bones beneath us.
"It was nothing. That mutt was mocking me."
"No," I said. "He was mocking me."
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her clawed hand, amber eyes blazing.
"We are the same, child. When he mocks you, he mocks us. You keep trying to divide us—light and dark, crown and claw. But that's the real illusion."
"I'm trying to keep control," I said. "To rule… without losing myself."
Her gaze sharpened. Her wings shifted.
"Control is a lie, illusion mortals tell themselves to feel safe. Power is truth. And I am your truth."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "You are the part I must chain. The part I must not become."
She rose from the throne, wings spreading behind her—vast and terrible. Shadows spilled across the dreamscape.
"You fear me. Yet you called on me—not in desperation, but with intent."
"Because I had to."
"Because you wanted to," she corrected, smiling darkly."You want my strength, little queen. You crave it. And one day… you won't just borrow it.""You'll take it."
She extended her hand—clawed, bloodstained, commanding.
"When you're ready to rule… truly rule… I'll be waiting."
Then her tone softened—dangerous in its persuasion.
"Until then, let me guide you. Let me teach you what your tutors, your father, your court never could. Let me show you how to become the queen you were born to be."
I narrowed my eyes.
"That's tempting. But what do you get in return?"
She tilted her head, amused.
"I want you to embrace it all—your hunger, your desire, your fury. I want you to stop pretending you're only half of what you are. I want you to embrace me, without restraint."
"Tell me, Velrith—are you ready for that?"
I didn't answer right away.
But then I met her gaze—steady, unshaken.
"Only if you swear you won't manipulate me. Your voice, your advice—only when I allow it. Only on my terms."
She smiled—sharp, amused, and faintly proud.
"Of course."
Then, like smoke catching fire, she vanished—leaving only the scent of ash and the echo of power in the air.
[Velrith's POV – Awakening]
I woke up, breathless.
Sweat clung to my skin. My heart pounding in my ears.
But I wasn't afraid.
Not this time.
Because she was right.
I would never defeat her.
I could only learn to live with her—on my terms.
Not as her prisoner.
Not as her puppet.
But as her equal.
Of course, making a deal with her isn't wise.
But power never comes without risk.
And she can teach me the ways no noble ever would.
She can help me become what I must be—to rule this kingdom, to protect its people, to ensure no one ever dares to tear down what I've built.
Because I'm not just fighting to control the darkness anymore…
I'm learning to wear it.
And that is the difference between a weapon—
And a queen.