Days became weeks.Weeks became months.
And with each rising sun, Velrith bled less, staggered less and struck harder. She was no longer a girl learning to wield a sword. She was becoming a queen others lowered theirs sword.
Her body grew resilient. Her movements, fluid like fire. Her healing—quicker now, more efficient, as if her flesh itself had learned to keep up with her fury.
The bruises had faded. Healed. The rage had not. But now she wore it with grace—like armor beneath her skin.
Each morning in the courtyard, her blade moved with sharp purpose, her footwork a dance of precision. And her presence? Undeniable. A force to reckon with.
Her magic stirred. Not wild bursts, but refined instinct—Levitation without incantation. Fire without chanting. Pressure that crushed bones within arm's reach. Still infant… but promising.
But it wasn't just the skill that had changed. It was the silence within.
The voice inside her—once a scream clawing for control of her body her mind—had gone still. Now it whispered. A second mind. A deeper instinct. No longer a threat, but a coiled shadow that watched… waited… offered its power, it's ancient demonic wisdom.
Its name was Velkira.
The part of Velrith that didn't flinch from fire. That didn't question the cost of power. The shadow that didn't need to be unleashed because it was already part of her.
"This is how a queen is born."Velkira's whisper curled like smoke behind her eyes.
Kraves no longer corrected her. He only sparred.
Learning from her
Teaching her
Brutally. Respectfully.
And when she pivoted in a way even he couldn't predict, he'd grin—feral and quiet and mutter:" There she only one matching me in my brutality, strength, wickedness ."
From her mother, Velrith learned more than battle. She learned control. Way of act befitting the queen.
How to manipulate without overstepping. How to cast the illusion of weakness. To turn situations to her advantage without casting a shadow on the master. To play the court like a symphony, never missing a note.
Words became her weapon. Tone became her blade. With every calculated glance, every poised gesture, she honed her second war: the war of influence.
How to make and break wills not with force, but with choice. How to thread silence into command.
How to use diplomacy to get what she wants without the use of brute force. how to make others believe that serving her was their idea.
But amidst all this, she noticed… something else.
At first, it was a flicker. A breath of static during practice. A floral scent that shouldn't have lingered. A presence always female, always unseen but unmistakably near. Too near for her comfort lingering watching.
She thought it harmless. No one with ill intent could get this deep into the heart of the kingdom.
Not without someone noticing it.
But the feeling grew.
Too precise.
Too aware.
A shadow that moved when others didn't. That lingered where light should've banished it.
Until one morning, after a blistering match that left the courtyard burned and blades shattered, Velrith had had enough.
She turned toward the crumbling wall, her voice cold as obsidian.
"You may as well step out. Or else you'll be hanging from that same tree forever, lifeless."
Silence.Then… movement.
From the shade of a leaning pillar, a figure emerged.Hooded. Lean.
Wrapped in quiet elegance.
Velrith felt the magic before she saw her.Dark, binding, ancient.
Eyes sharp as carved obsidian.Skin pale, flawless.
Beauty to charm men or women alike.
her height similar to my shoulder length.
Steps silent as an assassin.
She said nothing.
Velrith lowered her blade, sweat clinging to her brow."You've been watching me for some time."
The figure only tilted her head acknowledging, not apologizing.
"Why?"
"I am Clementine, Your Highness. Of House Grimsora."Her voice was velvet over bone."Known for soul-binding and necromancy."
Velrith's gaze sharpened.Clementine continued:
"As for the audience… I believe I've found something worth serving. Something that deserves my power."
Velrith narrowed her eyes."Is that loyalty?"
"It's recognition."
"Of what?"
"Of the force you're becoming."
The air between them thickened.Velrith stepped forward, her blade still warm.
"And what exactly is it you want?"
"To serve."A beat."In all the ways that matter."
"In every way I can."
Velrith studied her—her stillness, her composure, the seductive calm in her tone.Then she turned, slowly.
"Serving me isn't ceremonial. It's consuming."
She glanced over her shoulder.Voice low. Ironclad.
"If you pledge yourself to me, you don't get to look away when the blood flows. You stand behind me when the world burns. You fall with me or you rise with me."
"Your body will be mine to keep or break." "Your soul… mine to devour."
"There is no middle ground."
"Think before you pledge."
"Because once you do there is no going back"
Then she walked away.Paused.
"Come to me if you're ready."
"Otherwise find something else for entertainment"
And disappeared into the palace.Leaving Clementine beneath the rising sun.Waiting.Thinking.
And deep inside Velrith's mind…the whisper came again.
"She will be a great ally…""I can feel her darkness…""Her power… her soul…"
She knew the voice.It had once screamed for release.Now it murmured like a lover at her throat.
Velkira. The name she'd never spoken aloud.
Her shadow. Her tether. Her true crown.
"She must surrender it all," Velkira purred."Only then will she be truly ours."
Velrith's brow furrowed.
"She belongs to a powerful witch lineage," she murmured aloud."Giving her position is one thing… But making sure her loyalty never wavers"
"Then bind her to you," Velkira interrupted, a coil of silk and venom.
"I can't. I'm no witch."
"But I am," Velkira whispered."Let me do it. Let me forge the pact. Bind her body. Her soul.Make her ours."
Velrith was silent for a moment.
"Even so," she said, "the question remains will she truly choose us? choose us to serve? choose us to protect?"
Velkira only chuckled.
"Only time will tell."