Chapter 5 SELENE
This chapter contains references to suicide, violence using fantasy magic, and panic attacks!
Two side of the moon.
Endless blizzards raged through the night, battering the ancient walls of Whitestone. Yet inside the palace, warmth prevailed, a testament to my father's powerful magic. I rocked gently in my chair, my hands resting on my swollen belly, feeling the life within me stir. The firewood crackled and hissed, casting flickering shadows that danced across the stone walls.
My husband, the king of Astafell, was far away, conquering lands astride his fearsome golden dragon. Our marriage was one of convenience, a strategic alliance for Whitestone's sake. I despised him, but I couldn't voice my true feelings without betraying my father. He had orchestrated this union, and I couldn't bear to disappoint him.
Beside me sat my twin sister, Piper, ever vigilant. She was everything I was not: a master of magic and martial arts, brilliant, and strikingly beautiful. My father doted on her, often proclaiming that we were born to bring balance to the world. His favoritism had driven a wedge between us, leaving our bond strained and fragile.
Despite this, Piper loved me in her own way. I often felt like her inferior shadow, lacking her gifts and merely a tool in the grand scheme of our land. Yet, in this moment, as the storm raged outside and the fire crackled before us, there was a quiet understanding between us. We were sisters, bound by blood and fate, navigating a world that demanded more than we had ever imagined.
"Pie," I called out to my sister, my voice barely rising above the crackling fire.
"Yes, Selene?" she responded, gliding over to my side and gently stopping my chair from rocking.
"You're awfully quiet today," I observed, standing up and facing her. Her brow furrowed deeply.
"Was it that obvious?" she asked, scratching her scalp with a bewildered look.
I chuckled at her odd behavior, but there was a tension in the air. "I still can't believe my sister is pregnant," she muttered, her lips pouting in a rare moment of vulnerability.
I hugged her tightly. "I think it's a boy."
"A boy with red hair!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement.
"No, definitely white like mine," I insisted, laughing.
"Or maybe black as the night like mine!" she replied, her energy vibrant and infectious, a stark contrast to the storm outside. Everyone loved her.
But then, one day, she disappeared without a traced during her mission. My father was never the same after she vanished, his warmth turning to ice.
When my first son was born, my father wouldn't even look at him. The coldness in his eyes shattered my heart.
I returned to my husband's land, now expanded by his conquests. My father, desperate and relentless, kept pleading with my husband to find my sister. But my husband's heart was as cold as the northern winds, his ears deaf to my father's pleas. He only sought to use my body, pretending to love me while his true nature seeped through his façade.
Whispers in the dark corners of the castle revealed my husband's true tyranny. He fed his dragon human flesh to satisfy its insatiable hunger, a creature worshiped as if descended from the heavens but in truth, a spawn of the devil. There were nights when he made love to me, but his demeanor was different, as if the dragon's malevolent spirit possessed him. Those nights left me feeling hollow, trapped in a nightmare from which there was no escape.
Years passed, and the hollow in my heart grew deeper. I bore two more children, another boy and a girl, all of them inheriting their father's majestic looks. I despised them. When I discovered they had inherited the dragon's abilities, I refused to call them my own. My husband doted on them, telling them grand stories of his conquests and playing the loving father. Occasionally, I witnessed a look of devastation in his eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to ask him about it.
Our relationship was cold and distant. Despite being queen, I was often treated like a lowly woman. I kept silent, knowing my father didn't care how my husband treated me as long as the alliance remained strong. This left me profoundly lonely.
Then, a man came into my life. He was the Duke of House Phoenix, and I fell madly in love with him. But even he had his own ambitions, obsessed with the throne.
I had nowhere to go. My father, fully aware of my torment, chose to ignore my pleas for help. Instead, he planted a curse in my heart, ensuring that any attempt to end my life would only bring me back, trapping me in an endless cycle of despair.
With no one to turn to, I became addicted to the pain, using it to feel something, anything, in my hollow existence. I questioned my sanity as I ended my life a hundred times, a thousand times, only to be resurrected by the curse. The Duke of House Phoenix became my only solace, for he gave me the attention and affection I had never known: flowers, walks by the lake, stolen moments that felt like a lifeline.
The king, aware of my secret affair, used my vulnerability against me. He didn't take my head but instead flaunted his power and cruelty. Night after night, he slept with his consorts in front of me, relishing my humiliation. The children, blinded by his power, remained unaware of his true nature. Each night, as I watched him, the weight of my loneliness and despair grew heavier, crushing my spirit bit by bit.
As my heart grew colder, I saw Duke Fyre of House Phoenix not as a lover but as a tool—a means to an end. I manipulated him, I demanded he search for my lost sister, fully aware she had likely abandoned me to escape the fate our father had planned. Bitterness consumed me as I cursed her for leaving me to endure this bleak existence alone, resenting her for what I saw as betrayal.
Each day, I awaited Duke Fyre's reports with a calculated detachment, Duke Fyre finding a twisted satisfaction in the prospect of unraveling the king's secrets. In this pursuit, my once compassionate heart hardened into ice, driven solely by a desire for power and vengeance.
I will no longer contribute to their little play, I will show them my pain.
One day, Duke Fyre reported to me through one of his secret knights. They had encountered a woman in fiery gale, her presence suspicious. She carried a child with her. Intrigued, Duke Fyre's assassin shadowed her closely, discovering her ability to sense magical artifacts hidden within the woods. What was more astonishing was her talent for shape-shifting, assuming different personas effortlessly—one of which bore an uncanny resemblance to my lost sister, Piper.
As my heart grew colder, I meticulously orchestrated my sister's demise out of pure envy for her tranquil life. Her happiness mocked my suffering, fueling a dark obsession with extinguishing her existence. Every detail of her routine became a bitter reminder of what I could never have, driving me deeper into darkness.
Concealing my malevolent intentions from my father, I plotted not only her death but his as well, craving their heads as trophies to display in the palace, symbols of my ultimate dominance. Unbeknownst to me, my sister held a secret that would unravel my plans.
I manipulated Duke Fyre, using him to sow seeds of ambition in my sister son's mind, leading him into a trap within the king's domain. The assassin I dispatched successfully kidnap my sister but he encountered an unknown dragon, he fled and inadvertently sparing my sister's life but leaving her gravely injured.
Upon Duke Fyre's return, he sought my father's expertise in studying the an unknown dragon's eggshell, a relic of unparalleled power. My father's analysis revealed its origins as ancient and primordial, capable of immense destruction in the right hands—a weapon that now filled my dead heart with a chilling excitement.
Finally, I held the means to unleash havoc and exact vengeance on all who dared to cross me. The thrill of wielding such power consumed me, twisting my soul into a darker, more malevolent entity than ever before but this dragon needed a vessel of its choosing.
As the day dawned for me to face my sister's son, he stood before me, innocent and unknowing, resembling my younger self in his naivety.
"I will take care of him for you, sister," I whispered, my voice dripping with icy determination, my heart a cold void.
Meanwhile, the king and his formidable golden dragon grew increasingly suspicious of the new dragon's presence. I patiently waited, calculating the moment when the king would be distracted, away from his dragon's watchful gaze.
Every fortnight, the king's dragon sought refuge in a tower near the knight training grounds, drawn perhaps by the echoes of the ancient catacombs below, filled with dormant beings of unknown power. During these absences, I used spells of invisibility to sneak through the castle, seeking any knowledge that might aid my plans.
My daughter possessed the gift of clairvoyance, a perceived weakness in my eyes. Without hesitation, I snuffed out her life, erasing her existence as if she had never drawn breath. Tears streamed down my face, but they were not of sorrow; they were tears of twisted satisfaction and perverse joy. I despised my children, loathed their very existence, and wished for nothing more than their eradication from this world.
Descending into the grim catacombs where I had hidden my sister's body, I found her weakened but still clinging to life. With a final, ruthless stroke, I severed her head, letting her blood spill onto the ancient stones. I hoped the dragon above would sense the sacrifice, a macabre offering to fuel its wrath.
Leaving the castle behind, I mounted my horse and rode swiftly towards Whitestone. From a distance, I watched as the dragon unleashed its fury upon the castle, flames devouring everything in their path. My chest swelled with a dark sense of achievement and vindication.
"If any of my sons survive," I vowed silently, "I will ensure Duke Fyre brings them to me." I will end their life and be rid of all Pyralis bloodline.
In the impending chaos following the king's demise, I knew the dreaded Del Aire, the Abyssal Land, would soon descend upon Astafell. Embracing the impending tumult, I awaited for the dragon to descend upon Whitestone, I indifferent to the devastation it wrought. Immortality bound me, courtesy of my father's cursed magic, but my ambitions stretched far beyond mere longevity.
The severed head of my sister held power—a potent symbol to weaken my father. Armed with his own wand, I aimed not just to kill him but to absorb his formidable magic, making it my own. However, I hadn't foreseen both of my sons surviving the upheaval.
Awaiting their inevitable arrival,it was Firel who sought for their grandfather, only to discover his head mounted alongside my sister's—a grim trophy of my vengeance.
I ended my first born like an insignificant bug.
It did bring some lovely memories but my heart no longer feel such loving feeling.
Duke Fyre, useful yet expendable, remained spared, shackled as my reluctant servant until his final breath.
Amidst the chaos, a familiar dragon's roar echoed through the crumbling ruins of Whitestone. For a moment, fear gripped me, mistaking it for my husband's return. But it was little Felix, playing hero—adorable yet insignificant in the grand scheme.
Admitting my deeds to Firel, his eyes burned with fury, mirroring his father's, a sight that briefly sickened me. I had shed the last vestiges of a woman who once loved his father—a truth he didn't need to know, now that I had become a darkness as profound as the scales of the golden dragon.
As the black dragon arrived, its roar reverberating through the palace, I glanced at my son, ignorant of his fate—a calculated lesson in the true nature of dragons. Gripping his brother's sword, Felix swore to killed me but he couldn't. He was just a boy.
His voice resonated with a duality that chilled me, embodying the conflict of two souls within one body—a sight I had witnessed before. Resolved to depart, seeking a new haven to call my own, I felt a nagging emptiness, an unresolved feeling clawing at me.
Suddenly, a voice pierced my thoughts—a beckoning call to ascend to power. At first, I dismissed it as madness, but in my already fractured state, I recognized its reality. A misty portal materialized before me, and without hesitation, I dragged Duke Fyre along, bidding my son a grim farewell as I stepped into the unknown, ready to claim my rightful place in the annals of darkness.
I choose to rule on the darkside of the moon. - Queen Selene of Astafell.
Info dump : Astafell land is flourish with greenery and raw material. King Pyralis saw the future but did not anticipate his end.
Del aire is modern medieval due to demon helps with their technology.
Abyssal land is land of monster, previously King Pyralis claimed the head of the lord to control and form agreements. Now that the king is dead that they will run amok accross all land.