Chapter 1: The beginning of the end

Decreash Imperial castle

Lightning split the heavens, casting a fleeting glow across her face before the darkness swallowed it whole.

Beyond the tall windows of the winding hallways, raindrops battered the tall windows, a relentless sound that rhymed with the sound of two feet pounding against the floor.

Katie raced the hallway, gliding through the dark with the wild grace of something not wholly mortal.

Her pale blue nightgown streamed behind her, and each flash of lightning unveiled her only in fragments, a glimmer of frightened eyes, the fleeting outline of a face too lovely to belong entirely to this world.

Upon the stone wall her shadow raced beside her, thin and wavering, like a restless spirit struggling to keep pace with the body.

Her face was etched with nothing but fear, the chain on her ankle jingled with every desperate step, her dark hair sweeping across her face in disarray.

"Queen Katie, halt! In the name of the king of Decreash!"

The guard's command rang through the corridor as he drove after her in fierce pursuit, yet at the sound of it her steps only quickened, her feet striking desperately against the cold floor.

"Run... run!"

Her voice broke as she cried out to the man ahead; they were at the edge of their ruin; it was inevitable.

Behind her, the sound of pursuing guards echoed through the passage, their boots striking the floor with dreadful nearness.

The man ahead of Katie was a knight, Sir Trevor, a laudable soul, noble in bearing and possessed of a charm that won hearts almost as swiftly as his sword won battles.

Yet he had sinned against the throne.

He had committed what would be called an abomination: he had lain with the queen.

For that forbidden lust, the crown now hunted him, demanding his life as payment for the grievous offense.

His very breath was an insult to the majesty of Decreash.

Love, a good thing, is also thrilling but somehow leads to destruction.

Sir Trevor was far ahead of her, half-dressed and disheveled, his form wavering in the corridor lit up with fire torches.

He hasn't had time to dress properly after he was caught entangled with Katie on her bed.

Katie turned sharply into another corridor, its walls lined with iron sconces, fire torches casting a trembling glow.

As they ran, each torch flame wavered.

Her breath came in jagged bursts, each inhale a struggle, each exhale a rasping gasp that clawed at her throat.

Sweat slicked her skin, and her hair clung in damp strands to her face and neck, sticking to her like a second skin.

And yet, as she fled, her mind betrayed her with memories she had not wished to revisit.

The passionate moment she had shared with Sir Trevor, a beautiful moment it was, until they were caught in the act.

The feeling of his hands on her thighs flared in her thoughts, and the heat of desire of his breath on her skin, then his mouth pampering her body.

This was all she could see, even as she fled, trying to run for her dear life.

But in the twinkling of an eye, her thoughts betrayed her; she faltered, and although she tried to regain her balance, it was already too late. The guards already had her in their snare.

Like a fallen angel cast from grace, Katie lifted her teary gaze; she looked ahead and saw that some guards were still in hot pursuit, and Trevor was barely going to make it.

With trembling despair, she looked away, and in that moment, she was bundled by two guards, her delicate skin bruised in the process.

At first she refused to yield, but regardless, they dragged her along on her knees, her head hanging down. Her hair fell across her face, damp and matted, hiding the humiliation in her eyes.

Katie, the third queen of Decreash, often called the queen of beauty, was dragged along the dazzling floor of the hall to the throne room where Ragaleon was seated.

The chains pinned to her wrist rattled.

Her wrists were now red and sore, the iron of the chains biting against them.

Truly it was a shame that a queen of her caliber fell quickly from the ladder of glory.

The maids in service couldn't take their eyes off the scene; they pretended to be busy, but really, their eyes were glued to what was happening.

They even dared to ravage their gaze at her spitefully, the same maids who used to kiss her feet.

Katie was thrust into the throne room and dragged to where Ragaleon was seated, while on her knees.

By now she was weak and out of breath; her crystal blue eyes were lowered; she refused to gaze upon a man so feared that even his name sounded like an incantation.

But she had no choice; a firm hand grasped her chin, tilting her face upward until her eyes met Ragaleon's.

In that instant, the air seemed to thicken, and a shadow of dread flickered across her expression, a silent acknowledgment that resistance was no longer an option.

"You allow your queen to be treated in such a distasteful manner?"

She began with her voice raspy and weak; her tired eyes darted, failing to maintain direct eye contact.

She felt the weight of the hand pressing both sides of her jaws together and holding her face in place; talking seemed almost impossible.

"Katie Jesophath, do you plead guilty?"

The voice of Priest Tailbone cut through the heavy silence, and Katie laughed; it was a mocking laughter, born out of deep agony.

But the laughter died in her throat.

In an instant, a body was dumped beside her.

Though her face was held firmly by the guards, she managed to roll her eyes to the side, and her heart skipped.

He didn't make it.

Sir Trevor lay there, battered and broken, shirtless, his pale skin marred with long, cruel red stripes.

Some wounds were so profound, they cut deep into his flesh, oozing with blood.

The scent of blood filled her nostrils, and she quivered with despair.

"What have they done to you?"

She whispered, the question wasn't meant to be answered, but his gaze locked with her's.

"Nothing too much to bear, every mark was worth it."

Tears blurred her vision; she forced her gaze upward again until they met Ragaleon's.

"Have you no humanity?" Her voice trembled. The suffering of Trevor touched her so much that she now had no regrets for her adulterous deeds.

Ragaleon ignored his pathetic wife, his gaze trailing to the man, whose bold eyes locked with his.

He had the looks, a very fine man, he was capable of charming many young maidens, and they would fall helplessly in love with him.

But to thing that Trevor would lay with his wife, it was astounding just as it was foolish.

"Katie Jesophath, I repeat, do you plead guilty?"

It was the council priest speaking. He was standing beside Ragaleon, shrouded in a red robe, with a black scarf tied around his head, holding up an ancient book that was wide open.

Katie turned her gaze toward the man she had shared a bed with only moments before and gave a weary, almost defiant smile.

"I am guilty," she admitted her voice holding no remorse, "but there is nothing to plead for, if in the end I do not end up with this man. If my life is what you seek, then take it."

Her eyes never left Trevor as she spoke, drinking in the sight of his battered form.

Ragaleon's face was blank, but he was seething with rage. His golden eyes burned with a terrible intensity, like a dying flame refusing to fade.

His jeweled fingers drummed lightly upon the arm of the throne, an almost imperceptible warning of the storm beneath his calm.

He had nothing to say to the woman who had decided to taint his dignified harem.

He lounged upon the throne with careless ease, the crown upon his head tilted slightly, lending him an almost unearthly grace.

"Kill the knight."

Those were the only words he spoke, and he spoke them while looking directly at Katie; he wanted to witness every fragment of ruin that would cross her face.

He was not disappointed.

Terror swept over her features so suddenly that it seemed to hollow her from within.

"No..."

She began, her voice shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks.

But before she could say another word, the sharp sword of a guard standing beside Trevor, uprooted his head from his body.

Blood sprouted, and his head fell to the floor before rolling away to the side.

Whatever strength had kept Katie upright abandoned her at once, and her body went slack with shock.

She was so traumatized, it took her a moment to process what had just happened.

A deafening silence invaded the atmosphere, and for what seemed like hours Katie battled to say a word.

Soon a loud scream tore from her throat and she wailed uncontrollably. Her cries echoed in the castle, even to the farest chambers.

The blood pool around the dead body found its way to the hem of the dress, and soon the blue-colored nightgown changed to dark red.

"What have you done?"

She cried out, eyes red, as she crawled to where the body was; her hands trembled, and her weak gaze fell upon the man she had so dearly cherished.

The priest's eyes remained fixed upon the scene, yet no remorse touched his face. He had long grown accustomed to the King's cruelty and desired only for the matter to come to an end.

When Ragaleon saw the way Katie clung to the body of her lover, something in him shifted. Rising from his throne, he descended the steps of the dais with his hand clasped behind his back.

By the time he reached her, the guards had already forced her upright.

She was a crying mess, completely undone by grief. Her gown stained, her face marked with streak of dried tears, and her lashes fluttered as though she could blink away the misery before her.

Her bloodshot eyes shifted to his direction, when she perceived his spicy scent.

"Just end this. Kill me." She pleaded, desperation thinning her voice. Her skin had gone pale, and it seemed as though all the blood in her skin had been drained away.

In an instant his hand shot forward and closed around her throat, silencing her.

He watched her struggled, with a terrifying calmness, as he claimed her throat his nails digging into her flesh.

"I will not give you the satisfaction, of having your blood on my hands." He muttered while bringing his mouth close to her ears.

"You are dead to me."

He released her, and she crumpled to the floor, her fingers tracing her neck as she drew in breath roughly.

"Take her to the dungeon," he commanded, his voice smooth and unbothered.

"Prepare for your death row, Katie."

He paused only briefly before adding, with cold disdain, "I would have done it myself, but I will not have the blood of a whore upon my hands."

Nothing in his expression shifted. His calm demeanor was dreadful.

As he moved past her, Katie reached out with shaky hands and caught the hem of the cloak of his outfit.

"It was never meant to be…you and I."

She said with conviction, and Ragaleon halted. For a moment he stood with his hands folded behind him. Then he tilted his head, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of his face.

"What was never meant to be Katie,"he began with a low voice, "was your existence in this castle. In my castle."

With one swift motion, he drew out a sword from a nearby guard and severed the piece of his cloak she was holding.

The piece she was with fell limp in her hand, and with that she watched him walk away.

Like a grieving widow, Katie was dragged from the throne room, the blood soaking the hem of her gown, leaving long, straight patterns across the marbled floor.

As she was hauled toward the dungeons, her mind wandered through the ruins of her life.

Again and again, her thoughts returned to the day she had been wed to Ragaleon.

From that moment, her fate had hung over her like a storm cloud, and since then, she had known neither peace nor joy.

Now her doom had been sealed by the words of a mortal man.

If only she could turn back the hands of time to the night her father, Gotham, had announced her betrothal to the Scorpion King, Ragaleon von Clegane.

If only she had refused. If only she had stood her ground as a princess of Canna.

Perhaps, then, her life would have taken a different course.

All through the night, Katie remained unmoved, like a statue carved from a rock. She stood upright, her eyes cold with resolve.

Her lashes were still damp, though her tears had long since dried. She did not blink. She did not speak. She only stared ahead into the emptiness, as though the world around her had already ceased to exist.

She remained that way until dawn.

At first light, she was dragged out like a common criminal and taken to the pinnacle of the castle, to the place they called the holy ground.

It was a grim structure built along the outer edge of the fortress, a place where the condemned were punished before the eyes of Decreash so that the people might look on, tremble, and learn to mend their ways.

And on this day, Katie was made the object of ridicule.

As soon as she was set upon the holy ground, the commoners began to throw food at her; others slammed mud into her face, while others cursed from afar.

A bowl filled with a dark, poisoned liquid was placed into her hands and ordered to her lips, and without hesitation Katie emptied the bowl.

She had waited all night for this moment.

She yearned to joined Sir Trevor in the afterlife if the gods permit it.

The pain she felt after emptyimh the bowl began as a faint stir within her guts, almost bearable at first, but it soon turned merciless, spreading through her body like a thousand invisible thorns.

She was didn't scream nor cry out, she saved the crowd the satisfaction of seeing her break.

She crumpled to her knees, then hissed as her throat tightened and she coughed out blood.

Unwittingly she lifted her gaze, and it rested on a plain figure in sight.

Ragaleon.

He stood aloof from the crowd, distant and untouchable, clad in royal robes with a crown resting upon his head, as though he were merely witnessing some passing spectacle and not the end of a life he had destroyed.

He was a vile man, possessed with a heart so hardened that he would not even grant her the mercy of a swift death, by a sword.

Instead, he desired it to be slow and merciless. He wished to feast upon every twisted look that agony drew from her, and to take grim satisfaction in her suffering.

She held his gaze as her body slowly began to fail her; she spurted out more blood before collapsing fully to the ground.

Her lashes stilled, and a chilling cold crept into her fingertips; she felt her heartbeat slow down until the final thread of breath left her nostrils.

Katie died with her eyes still open, fixed upon the man who had decided her fate, and he chose death as her end.