The King's Obsession
316 Words
He watched her through the mirror.
Not as a king. Not as a conqueror.
But as a man unraveling.
The Silver King stood in the chamber of glass, moonlight slicing across his pale hands. The mirror before him—a cursed relic of the old blood—showed only one thing now: Asha.
She stood among wolves, fire at her feet, wearing the pendant that once belonged to Veyna. Her mother.
Malric’s jaw clenched.
> “She has her mother’s eyes,” he murmured.
The seer shivered in the corner, blood trickling from her lips. “You said you would kill her.”
> “I lied.”
He stepped closer to the glass, fingers brushing its surface.
> “She was born to kneel. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
---
In the forest...
Asha sat alone, the firelight catching in her pendant. Fen was gone, scouting the valley edge. Her thoughts drifted—not to safety, not to the growing army—but to him.
The King.
She had only seen his face in visions. But somehow… she could feel him. Watching. Waiting.
Whispers circled her in dreams:
> "Come to me, little queen. I want to see what your blood tastes like when you burn."
"You are mine, even when you run."
She should have feared him. Hated him.
And she did.
But something about that voice… the calm, cruel certainty in it… it rooted itself in her bones.
And worst of all?
It made her curious.
---
Later that night…
She woke to frost on her skin.
A shadow stood at the edge of her tent. Tall. Still.
Then a voice—his voice—broke the silence.
> “I’ve waited long enough, Asha.”
She turned, heart thundering.
But the shadow was gone.
Only the wind remained.
And a single black rose, frozen in ice, lay on her bedroll.
- Writer
