Lunar Throne

THE TRIAL OF BLOOD

The voice echoed through the Hall of Judgment.

HEIR DETECTED.

Silver light exploded from the c***k in the marble floor.

Nobles screamed.

Guards stumbled backward.

Council members stared in horror.

The entire palace shook.

Elaria stood frozen.

Her heart hammered violently against her ribs.

The voice had come from beneath the palace.

From beneath the Lunar Throne.

From somewhere ancient.

Somewhere powerful.

Somewhere that should not have been speaking.

Yet every person in the room had heard it.

No one could deny it.

No one could pretend it hadn’t happened.

The Throne had chosen.

And somehow—

It had chosen her.

⸻

“No!”

The scream cut through the chaos.

Lady Seraphina.

The beautiful noblewoman stepped forward.

Her face was pale with rage.

“This is impossible!”

Nobody answered.

Because nobody knew how.

Or why.

Or what would happen next.

The silver light continued pouring upward from the floor.

The c***k widened.

Ancient runes ignited beneath the marble.

Symbols no one had seen in centuries.

Councilor Varis looked terrified.

For the first time since Elaria met him—

The old man looked completely powerless.

“The Trial.”

The whisper escaped his lips.

Queen Selene immediately turned.

“Already?”

Varis nodded.

His face had lost all color.

“The Throne is moving faster than prophecy predicted.”

The statement sent fresh panic through the chamber.

Elaria frowned.

“What trial?”

Nobody answered immediately.

That alone frightened her.

Finally Selene looked at her.

Pain filled her eyes.

“The Trial of Blood.”

The name sent a chill through the room.

Even the guards reacted.

Several exchanged uneasy looks.

Others quietly stepped farther away.

The reaction made Elaria’s stomach tighten.

“What is it?”

Selene hesitated.

As though she wished she could lie.

As though she wished she could protect her.

But the truth came anyway.

“The Trial determines whether the chosen heir is genuine.”

Silence followed.

Elaria swallowed.

“And if I pass?”

The Queen’s expression softened.

“Then no one in the Dominion can challenge your claim.”

The room immediately became tense.

Because everyone understood what that meant.

If Elaria passed—

The nobles lost their argument.

The Council lost control.

And the orphan girl became the future ruler of the Dominion.

The possibility terrified them.

⸻

Another tremor shook the palace.

The c***k widened further.

Silver light erupted upward like a pillar.

A pathway slowly emerged from beneath the floor.

Ancient stone steps.

Descending into darkness.

The Hall of Judgment fell silent.

Every person present stared.

The Ancient Path.

The legendary route beneath the Lunar Throne.

The place where royal heirs had once been tested.

The place no living person had entered.

Until now.

A voice echoed again.

Deeper.

Older.

More powerful.

THE HEIR SHALL DESCEND.

Several nobles immediately stepped backward.

Nobody wanted to be near the stairs.

Not anymore.

⸻

Elaria stared into the darkness below.

Fear twisted inside her chest.

Everything was happening too quickly.

Yesterday she had been an orphan.

Yesterday she had been rejected.

Yesterday she knew exactly who she was.

Now she knew nothing.

Not her family.

Not her past.

Not her future.

Nothing.

The darkness below seemed endless.

Waiting.

Watching.

Hungry.

Selene stepped closer.

Instinctively.

Protectively.

“You don’t have to do this today.”

The statement shocked the Council.

Varis immediately frowned.

“Your Majesty—”

“I know what I said.”

The Queen’s voice hardened.

Then she looked back at Elaria.

Something vulnerable appeared in her eyes.

Something only a mother would show.

“I just found you.”

The words hit harder than expected.

For nineteen years Elaria had imagined meeting her mother.

Sometimes she imagined anger.

Sometimes joy.

Sometimes disappointment.

Never this.

Never a woman terrified of losing her again.

The realization complicated everything.

Because part of Elaria wanted to hate her.

Yet another part saw genuine regret.

Genuine love.

And that made hatred difficult.

⸻

Before anyone could speak—

Laughter echoed through the chamber.

Cold laughter.

Mocking laughter.

Seraphina.

The noblewoman stepped forward.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

And furious.

“How touching.”

The sarcasm dripped from every word.

Her eyes locked onto Elaria.

“If she’s truly the heir, then let her prove it.”

The challenge hung in the air.

Several nobles immediately nodded.

Hope appeared in their eyes.

Because they wanted Elaria to fail.

Needed her to fail.

Their futures depended on it.

Seraphina smiled.

Cruelly.

Confidently.

The same smile from the Choosing Ceremony.

The same smile that haunted Elaria’s memories.

“What are you afraid of?”

The words landed exactly where intended.

A challenge.

A trap.

An insult.

The old Elaria would have lowered her eyes.

The old Elaria would have walked away.

But something had changed.

Not because she believed she was an heir.

Not because she wanted a throne.

But because she was tired.

Tired of being ashamed.

Tired of being dismissed.

Tired of letting others decide her worth.

For the first time—

She met Seraphina’s gaze directly.

The smile on the noblewoman’s face faltered.

Only slightly.

But enough.

“I am not afraid.”

Silence followed.

Seraphina’s eyes narrowed.

The room grew still.

Because nobody expected the orphan to answer back.

⸻

The voice echoed again.

Stronger this time.

THE HEIR SHALL DESCEND.

The palace shook.

Silver fire raced across the walls.

Ancient runes awakened throughout the chamber.

The Throne was not asking.

It was commanding.

Varis closed his eyes.

“It’s begun.”

The realization settled over everyone.

There was no delaying this.

No negotiation.

No escape.

The Trial would happen.

Now.

⸻

Elaria stepped toward the stairs.

One step.

Then another.

Fear remained.

But determination existed too.

Behind her, Selene whispered:

“Elaria.”

She stopped.

Turned.

The Queen looked as though she wanted to say a thousand things.

Nineteen years of missed words.

Nineteen years of missed memories.

Yet only one sentence emerged.

“I’m proud of you.”

The simple statement nearly broke something inside Elaria.

Because nobody had ever said those words to her like that.

Not before.

Not like a mother.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then Elaria nodded.

And turned back toward the darkness.

⸻

The first step felt cold beneath her feet.

The second colder.

The third colder still.

As she descended, the silver light above began fading.

The Hall of Judgment grew distant.

Smaller.

Farther away.

The darkness swallowed everything.

Until only the path remained.

And silence.

Ancient silence.

The kind that existed before kingdoms.

Before crowns.

Before history itself.

Then—

A light appeared ahead.

Silver.

Gentle.

Floating.

Elaria stopped.

The light slowly expanded.

Taking shape.

Becoming human.

Her breath caught.

A little girl stood before her.

Seven years old.

Thin.

Lonely.

Wearing worn clothes.

The sight hit her like lightning.

Because she recognized the child instantly.

It was herself.

The girl looked up.

Tears filled her eyes.

Then she asked a question.

A simple question.

A devastating question.

“Why did nobody choose me?”

Elaria froze.

The darkness around her stirred.

The Trial had begun.