Chapter 67: 67
# Chapter 67 – The Quiet Before the Siege
The palace had never been quieter.
Not since Zara first arrived with trembling hands and a forced marriage to a stranger.
Not since she first lifted a sword.
Not since blood first stained the velvet floors of her throne room.
And yet, silence was no comfort now. It was a warning.
Zara sat alone in the Queen's solar, the high windows casting long morning shadows over the map of the realm laid out on the marble table. Pins marked unrest. Circles of red marked confirmed traitors. Lines in ink showed trade routes, alliances, hidden tensions.
But one mark—just one—was circled in black.
The Northern Wall.
Varek entered with a sharp bow. "We have confirmation. The Circle had backers beyond the capital. And one of them has moved—north."
Zara didn't look up. "The border fortress?"
"Breached. Empty. Left standing only for the message scrawled on the inner gates."
He handed her a parchment.
She read it slowly.
**"Every empire falls. Yours begins to bleed now."**
Her hand clenched.
Damon entered next, his face grim. "The northern pass is no longer secure. If they push through, the entire upper half of the realm will be exposed."
"Which means they won't attack it directly," Zara said. "They want us to panic. They want us to split forces."
Amara appeared in the doorway. "Then we don't give them what they want."
Zara stood. "We don't retreat. We hold the wall. But I'm not sending an army—I'm leading it."
All three advisors spoke at once.
"Your Majesty—"
"No," she interrupted, voice like tempered steel. "We end this from the front, not the throne."
—
By nightfall, Zara had donned her armor.
Forged from dragonsteel, lined in midnight velvet, her battle cloak bore the symbol of her house—a golden phoenix, wings outstretched, rising from ash.
Damon fastened the final strap. "You know they'll be waiting for you."
"Good," she said. "Let them look me in the eyes when they fall."
Varek handed her a second blade. "The kind that sings through bone."
She sheathed it without hesitation.
The palace watched in silence as she rode out. Not on a golden carriage. Not with trumpets or fanfare. But like a warrior queen, surrounded by elite riders, heading north into a storm no one had dared face before.
And the people? They cheered.
Not because they believed she'd win.
But because she dared to fight.
—
The ride north was bitter. Wind bit through the cloaks of her men. Snow fell early. Zara rode at the front, never stopping, never bending.
On the fourth night, they reached the edge of the Wall.
And there, waiting in the half-light of dawn, stood the enemy.
Rows upon rows. Not just mercenaries or rogue knights—this was an army. One built in silence, trained in shadows, funded by noble gold.
The Circle had returned. Not from the city—but from the edge of the kingdom.
Zara's men faltered.
Until she dismounted, raised her blade, and stood at the front.
"This is not the day we die," she said, voice steady. "This is the day we remind them why we live."
Cheers rose.
And then the first horn blew.
They came like a tide.
Zara met them head-on. Damon at her side. Varek slicing through armor. Amara, silent and deadly from the rear lines.
It was chaos.
Blood and ice. Steel and screams. Horses collapsing. Arrows cutting air.
And through it all—Zara.
She fought like vengeance wrapped in gold. Every strike was calculated. Every breath, earned. She fought not for her crown, but for every girl who had ever been told she was too soft, too small, too silent.
She fought for the future.
When the sun finally crested the horizon, the tide began to break.
The enemy pulled back.
Zara's forces held the line.
Smoke rose. Bodies littered the snow. But they had not fallen.
Zara, bloodied and panting, stood at the top of the Wall as the survivors regrouped behind her.
Damon joined her, eyes wide.
"You did it."
She didn't smile.
"No," she said. "We've only just begun."
Below, another wave gathered on the horizon.
Zara raised her sword again.
And prepared to meet it.
(Word Count: 1,507)