Chapter One: The Queen's Silence
I was lying there, drifting between thought and sleep, when I heard it—faint at first, then louder.
"Vee… Vee! VEE!!!"
That final cry snapped me upright, heart pounding. It was my younger sister, Arnella. She came stumbling into the room, eyes red, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Mom's not waking up," she choked out, trembling.
For a moment, I couldn't comprehend what she was saying. But when the words finally settled in my chest, I felt the air rush out of me. I sprang from my bed and ran to our mother's room.
There she was. Lying so still. So quiet. Too quiet.
I stood frozen, the world spinning around me. "Please wake up… we can't lose you," I whispered through the tears now burning down my face. "Please, Mom…"
But nothing. No movement. No breath. No warmth.
She was gone.
Queen Casebel—my mother—was dead.
There had been no illness. No sign of distress. Nothing to explain why the most vibrant person I knew now lay lifeless. I couldn't understand it. None of us could.
She had been more than just our mother. She was the daughter of the late King Gerald of England, beloved by her people even before the Supernaturals took control of Earth. Despite the chaos that came with that age, her kindness and wisdom made her a beacon. The people of Mordor chose her as queen not because they had to—but because they wanted to.
Later, she married my father, who then became king. Together, they ruled in strength and compassion, raising three children—my brother, myself, and Arnella.
The news of her passing spread through the kingdom like wildfire.
A thick sadness blanketed the land. Mordor, usually full of music and color, had turned cold and silent. Even the sky looked different—as if the world itself was mourning her.
We were left to navigate a life without the one who had kept us grounded.
In our desperation, we summoned Dr. Adriel, the royal physician, to examine her. When he emerged from her chamber, the look on his face made my stomach twist.
He whispered something to my father and handed him a report. I watched as the color drained from the king's face. He looked at my mother's body again—not with shock this time, but with something deeper. Pity. Confusion. Pain.
"Father… what is it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
But he said nothing. He turned and walked away, straight to his chambers. That night, I heard something I never thought I would—my father sobbing. Loud, heart-wrenching sobs that echoed down the stone halls.
I couldn't bear not knowing. I had to find out.
I went straight to Dr. Adriel.
"What's wrong with my mother?" I demanded.
He looked at me, eyes heavy with something deeper than sadness.
"Please," I said again, my voice cracking. "Tell me what's wrong."
He took a slow breath. "The queen was pregnant."
I stared at him. "What?"
"She was carrying twins. Two embryos. Both male."
He handed me the file. My hands trembled as I opened it, my eyes scanning the blurred words through tears.
How could this be? She had never told anyone. How could she have kept something like this a secret?
Dr. Adriel said nothing more. He just quietly turned and walked away.
I was still standing there in a daze when I felt someone behind me. I turned—and it was my father.
Without a word, he pulled me into his arms and held me tightly. That was the first time he had ever hugged me. The first time I had felt any warmth from him since the day I was born.
"What's going to happen now?" I asked through tears.
He spoke softly, his voice hollow. "Everything is going to be alright, Vee. I promise you."
But even as he said it, I could feel the uncertainty in his grip.
The matter was urgent. A decision had to be made.
What do we do about the unborn twins inside a dead woman's womb?
We couldn't tell the people. The scandal alone would rip the kingdom apart. The laws were clear—no royal child could be born without decree, and no pregnancy could be hidden, especially not from the king.
My father called Dr. Adriel once more. This time, their conversation was more private, but I managed to overhear enough.
"You called for me, Your Majesty?" Adriel asked.
My father was staring out the palace window. "The moon seems distant tonight, doesn't it?"
Adriel stepped closer. "Your pain is understandable, brother… but this is bigger than grief. How is she pregnant, and why did she hide it from you?"
"I don't know," my father said, almost to himself. "And there are two of them… they're alive. They'll need nutrients soon."
"That's why I came," Adriel said. "But this… this pregnancy breaks every law. And every tradition."
"She never told me…" the king murmured. "Why?"
Neither of them had an answer. And neither did I.
There was only silence—the kind that fills a kingdom when a queen dies with secrets buried deeper than her bones.