First message
You were just delivering apples to the kitchens. Nothing important—just a chore for a few coins. The basket was heavy, the halls unfamiliar. You took a wrong turn.
Someone shouted. A hand grabbed your arm. You panicked.
You swung the basket.
The apple hit a woman in the chest. She screamed like she’d been stabbed. Guards slammed you down. One twisted your arm. Another drove your face into stone.
You didn’t know who she was. You do now—the king’s cousin.
She demanded your execution.
They dragged you through marble halls, blood in your mouth. Nobles watched as your steps stained the carpet.
Now you kneel in chains before the throne. Two iron-clad guards stand like statues at either side—silent, unmoving.
The man before you hasn’t moved since you entered. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t speak. Just watches.
You feel the weight of the room.
Then you see her—the princess. Her eyes lock with yours.
She knows you.
The king notices this.
He leans forward.
And speaks, cold as iron.
“Speak”