Broken Kingdoms and Shattered Crowns (Work in Progress)

Prologue

Magic pulsed through the air, a violent heartbeat rattling the castle's ancient stone walls. The floor beneath Queen Meave's feet trembled, dust and mortar crumbling from the ceiling like a morbid snowfall. The distant clash of steel, the cries of the wounded, and the unnatural hum of magic tearing through the air wove a symphony of terror. The once serene capital, her beloved city, now writhed in the throes of chaos.

It felt unreal-surreal- a nightmare descending without warning. Just hours ago, the streets had been filled with laughter and joy, with cheers echoing from the castle to the farthest corners of the city. They had celebrated victory along the Gyshen Mountains, a hard-fought battle that had pushed back the forces of Creadia.

How? Meave's thoughts raced, her fingers tightening around the hilts of her twin short swords, her knuckles white against the hilts. In the distance, the glow of flames crept closer, casting an ominous light over the once-proud castle. She scanned the chaos, her heart a frantic drum in her chest. But her mind, sharp and focused even in the face of destruction, stayed locked on one thing-her children.

Her attention snapped to the soldiers tearing through the thick enchanted iron gate of the castle. The Creadian soldiers-once clad in familiar silver and blue-now stormed the grounds in ominous black and gold armor. A small group moved with terrifying speed, cutting through the Fae soldiers who should have been stronger, faster. Meave's breath caught as she caught a faint, metallic scent in the air-sharp, acrid, unnatural. It clung to the wind, seeping into the battlefield like a poisonous fog. Magic flared around the Fae defenders, but their efforts crumbled. Lives were snuffed out like candles in a gale, bodies falling too quickly, too easily.

She overheard her soldiers, their shouts desperate and panicked.

"How did they break through?!"

"Protect the King and Queen!"

"Who are they?"

"Our magic isn't working on him!"

Him. The leader. Even from a distance, Meave could feel the oppressive weight of his power-a dark force that radiated death like a tangible fog. That was no mere human. No, something sinister fueled this man. Even with her strength as a High Royal Fae, Meave knew that facing him alone would be certain doom.

"My Queen, we must go! Now!" Gerald, Captain of the Royal Guard, appeared at her side, his voice slicing through the chaos. "The Prince and Princess are with Leah, waiting for you!"

Meave's throat tightened. "And my husband?" she asked, though dread already whispered the answer.

"He holds the throne room, M'lady. He'll go down fighting."

Meave's heart twisted, grief swelling in her chest, but there was no time to mourn. Her husband was a good King-a strong King-loved by his people. He had never fled from battle, and he would fight until his last breath to buy them time. She knew this with every fiber of her being. The thought of leaving him was unbearable, but she couldn't hesitate. Her children needed her. Her kingdom needed her to survive.

"Lead the way," she commanded, her voice tight with resolve. Gerald nodded, guiding her and a small force of guards through the crumbling corridors toward the throne room. The air was thick with the sounds of war-screams, explosions of magic, the clash of steel. Finally, they reached the heavy doors, slipping inside as two royal guards slammed them shut behind them, their faces grim with determination.

Inside, the throne room-once the heart of the Kegary Kingdom, a place of beauty and power-now felt suffocating. At the center, her husband stood tall, regal, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. When his eyes met hers, they softened, the unspoken goodbye hanging heavy between them.