THE FIRST ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT
1125 Words
Elaria couldn’t sleep.
The palace was too quiet.
Too large.
Too unfamiliar.
Moonlight spilled across her new chambers, painting silver patterns across the floor.
Everything should have felt magical.
Instead, it felt like a cage.
Only three days ago, she had been an orphan living on the edge of Asterlyn.
Now servants bowed when she entered rooms.
Guards escorted her through hallways.
Nobles whispered when she passed.
None of it felt real.
And worst of all—
Someone wanted her dead.
The thought lingered in her mind.
The stolen Birth Records.
The traitor inside the Council.
The ancient warning from the Trial.
Trust carefully, Heir.
Elaria stood beside the balcony, staring at the sleeping city below.
Thousands of lights glittered beneath the moon.
Beautiful.
Peaceful.
A lie.
Because somewhere in that city, enemies were already moving.
⸻
Across the palace…
Lord Cassian Veyr sat alone in his private study.
The sealed letter lay open on his desk.
Its black symbol seemed to absorb the candlelight.
The message contained only four words.
The heir has been found.
Nothing else.
Nothing needed.
Cassian’s expression darkened.
For nineteen years he had protected the secret.
Nineteen years.
And now everything was collapsing.
The girl should have remained hidden.
Forgotten.
Powerless.
Instead she had returned.
And worse—
The Throne had recognized her.
His fingers tightened around the letter.
The situation had become dangerous.
Not merely politically.
Personally.
Because if Elaria discovered the full truth…
His life would end.
The realization settled heavily in his chest.
There was only one solution.
The same solution that should have happened nineteen years ago.
⸻
Back in her chambers…
A knock interrupted Elaria’s thoughts.
She turned.
A servant entered carrying tea.
The young woman bowed respectfully.
“Your Highness.”
The title still felt strange.
Elaria almost looked behind herself whenever someone used it.
The servant placed the tray upon a table.
Then left.
Simple.
Normal.
Forgettable.
Except—
The door remained slightly open.
A detail Elaria noticed immediately.
The servant had been meticulous.
Professional.
She wouldn’t leave a door half-open.
Not accidentally.
A cold sensation crawled down Elaria’s spine.
Something was wrong.
⸻
Outside the chamber…
A shadow moved.
Silent.
Careful.
Patient.
The figure slipped through the partially opened door.
No sound.
No warning.
A dagger glimmered briefly beneath moonlight.
The intruder advanced.
One step.
Then another.
Murderously calm.
⸻
Inside…
Elaria reached for the teacup.
Then paused.
The Trial had changed something inside her.
Made her more aware.
More observant.
The room suddenly felt different.
The air heavier.
The silence unnatural.
Slowly, she turned.
A flash of silver.
Instinct screamed.
Elaria threw herself sideways.
The dagger sliced through empty air where her throat had been.
The assassin cursed.
Elaria crashed into a chair.
Pain exploded through her shoulder.
But she was alive.
The intruder lunged again.
Fast.
Terrifyingly fast.
This wasn’t a thief.
This wasn’t an amateur.
This was a professional killer.
⸻
Elaria grabbed the nearest object.
A heavy silver candleholder.
The assassin’s dagger descended.
She swung desperately.
Metal struck bone.
The attacker staggered.
The dagger missed.
Barely.
The door burst open.
Guards flooded the room.
The assassin immediately turned.
Not toward escape.
Toward Elaria.
The realization horrified her.
Even surrounded—
His mission remained the same.
Kill the heir.
A guard intercepted him.
Steel clashed.
Another guard joined.
Then another.
The assassin finally retreated.
He leapt through the balcony doors.
Without hesitation.
Without fear.
Vanishing into the night.
⸻
The palace erupted.
Alarms echoed through every corridor.
Guards flooded hallways.
Servants panicked.
Nobles woke.
Within minutes, Elaria’s chambers were filled.
Selene arrived first.
Still wearing her night robe.
Her silver hair loose around her shoulders.
Fear filled her eyes.
Real fear.
The moment she saw Elaria unharmed, relief nearly brought tears.
“Are you hurt?”
Elaria shook her head.
The Queen closed her eyes briefly.
Thanking every god she knew.
⸻
Moments later…
Prince Lucien arrived.
Then Varis.
Then half the Council.
Including Lord Cassian.
The councilman looked appropriately shocked.
Appropriately concerned.
Appropriately innocent.
A perfect performance.
Yet Elaria noticed something.
A tiny scratch across his wrist.
Fresh.
Recent.
As though something sharp had grazed him.
The sight made her stomach tighten.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
⸻
“The assassin escaped.”
The captain of the guards looked furious.
“We found no insignia.”
“No family crest.”
“No identifying marks.”
Professional.
Exactly as expected.
The room fell silent.
Everyone understood what that meant.
This wasn’t random.
This wasn’t personal.
This was organized.
Someone powerful had sent that killer.
⸻
Then another discovery emerged.
A guard approached carrying something wrapped in cloth.
“Your Majesty.”
Selene frowned.
“What is it?”
The guard unfolded the fabric.
Inside lay a black metal coin.
The room immediately froze.
Varis went pale.
Lucien stiffened.
Several nobles stepped backward.
Elaria frowned.
“What is it?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Which was answer enough.
The object was important.
Dangerous.
Ancient.
Finally Varis spoke.
His voice barely above a whisper.
“The Shadow Court.”
The name echoed through the room.
Elaria had never heard it before.
But everyone else clearly had.
Fear filled their faces.
Fear and dread.
The kind reserved for nightmares.
⸻
Selene slowly took the coin.
Her hands trembled.
“The Shadow Court was destroyed.”
Varis looked unconvinced.
“So we believed.”
The room became silent again.
The implications were terrifying.
If the Shadow Court still existed—
Then the enemies from nineteen years ago still existed too.
Which meant the attack on the palace had never truly ended.
It had merely paused.
Waiting.
Preparing.
Growing stronger.
⸻
Later that night…
Long after everyone left…
Elaria sat alone again.
Unable to sleep.
A princess for three days.
Already someone had tried to kill her.
The irony wasn’t lost on her.
The old life suddenly seemed much simpler.
Yet one detail refused to leave her thoughts.
The assassin.
Not the attack.
Not the dagger.
His eyes.
For one brief moment before he fled—
She had seen them.
And they looked familiar.
Disturbingly familiar.
As though she had seen them somewhere inside the palace.
Somewhere very close.
⸻
Far below the palace…
Inside forgotten tunnels…
The assassin knelt before a hooded figure.
Blood dripped from a wound on his temple.
“The mission failed.”
Silence followed.
Dangerous silence.
The hooded figure slowly rose.
Ancient power filled the chamber.
Then a cold voice spoke.
“Then we proceed to the second phase.”
The assassin lowered his head.
“What about the heir?”
The figure’s face remained hidden beneath darkness.
Yet a smile appeared.
A terrifying smile.
“If we cannot kill her…”
“We will make the kingdom fear her.”
- Writer
