A Vow of Vengeance and Silk

The first thing Seraphine registered was the smell which was the coppery tang of blood mixed with the musty damp of ancient stone. Her head throbbed as if someone had taken a hammer to her skull, each pulse of pain sending fresh waves of nausea rolling through her. She tried to lift her hand to rub her temples, but cold iron bit into her wrists, the manacles chafing her skin raw. "Finally awake, little viper?" The voice slithered through the darkness like a snake through dead leaves. Seraphine's eyes snapped open, her breath catching in her throat as they adjusted to the dim torchlight. The dungeon cell was small, the walls slick with moisture that glistened like sweat in the flickering light. Chains hung from rusted hooks in the ceiling, their ends crusted with dark stains that could only be blood. In the corner, something scuttled in the shadows - too large to be a rat, too many legs to be human. Queen Lyrith stepped into the pool of torchlight, her bone crown gleaming wetly. Up close, Seraphine could see the crown wasn't merely made of bone , it was growing from her skull, the jagged points fused seamlessly with flesh. Thin tendrils of blood oozed from the connection points, tracing delicate paths down the queen's pale cheeks like macabre tears. "Disappointed?" Lyrith purred, running a finger along Seraphine's jawline. Her nail was black and sharpened to a point, leaving a thin scratch that burned like acid. "You expected marble halls and gilded cages? The Blood Crown prefers... honesty." Across the cell, chains rattled as Kaelan stirred. His bare chest was a tapestry of fresh wounds, the glowing scars beneath them pulsing weakly like dying embers. One eye was swollen shut, the other barely focusing as he lifted his head.

"Don't... listen..." he rasped, blood bubbling at his lips. Lyrith moved with unnatural speed, backhanding him with enough force to send his head snapping back against the stone wall. The crack echoed through the cell like a gunshot. "Quiet, darling," she crooned, wiping Kaelan's blood from her fingers onto her dress - a living thing of woven shadows that whispered secrets as it moved. "Mother's speaking." Seraphine tested her bonds again, the iron burning her skin where it touched. Magic suppression, then. She forced her voice steady. "What do you want with me?" The queen's smile stretched impossibly wide, her lips splitting at the corners to reveal rows of needle-sharp teeth. "Why, to give you what every gutter rat dreams of, of course." She pressed a cold palm against Seraphine's chest, right over her pounding heart. "Power." Agony exploded through her body. The black veins in Seraphine's arm surged to life, writhing beneath her skin like living things. Her scar tore open with a wet sound, but instead of blood, thick shadows poured forth, pooling in her palm before forming into a blade of pure darkness. The weapon pulsed in time with her heartbeat, hungry and alive. Kaelan's scream of warning was cut short by a wet cough. "Fight it, Sera! Don't let her…" Lyrith's shadow-dress lashed out like a whip, wrapping around Kaelan's throat and silencing him. "Tsk tsk. Always so dramatic." She turned back to Seraphine, her eyes black pits that swallowed the torchlight whole. "The crown must feed, child. And you... you are the perfect feast." As the queen spoke, Seraphine felt something stirring in the back of her mind - a presence that wasn't her own. It whispered promises of strength, of revenge, of never being helpless again. All it asked in return was a little space to grow... The distant sound of war horns shattered the moment, their mournful wails vibrating through the stone. Lyrith's head snapped up, her crown pulsing with dark light. "Ah," she breathed, the shadows in the cell trembling with excitement. "Right on time." Seraphine barely had time to process the words before the queen was gone in a swirl of darkness, leaving only her laughter echoing off the damp walls. Alone with Kaelan, Seraphine turned to him, the shadow blade still flickering in her hand. His one good eye was fixed on her, filled with a mixture of horror and desperate hope. "The crown isn't just a thing," he gasped, the words clearly painful. "It's alive. And it's choosing you." Outside, the horns sounded again, closer this time. The walls trembled with the march of approaching armies. Somewhere in the distance, something ancient and hungry awoke. And in Seraphine's palm, the shadow blade pulsed eagerly in response.