The Dark Kingdom

The blue sky was a relief after days of unrelenting rain in the Light Kingdom. Sunlight warmed my skin as I sat curled into my favorite rocking chair on the small balcony outside my chambers. My muscles loosened, tension easing from my shoulders as I tilted my face toward the light and let my green eyes drift closed. For a brief moment, I allowed myself peace—something rare these days. The chair rocked softly beneath me as I pushed thoughts of council meetings and kingdom affairs from my mind. Today, of all days, I needed this quiet. I needed the reminder that light still existed. I ran my fingers through my long red hair, working out the knots. Hooves thundered against stone far below, frantic and fast. A voice echoed through the courtyard—sharp with panic. My hands froze, this moment of peace shattered. “I must see the king immediately! I have urgent news—” My eyes flew open. I gathered my skirts and rushed to the balcony railing, peering down three floors to the palace gates. I couldn’t see much from this height, but I didn’t need to. The kingdom's messenger was racing towards the palace. Terror was etched plainly across Vincent’s face as the guards threw open the gates and his horse skidded to a halt. Vincent barely dismounted before sprinting toward the palace doors. My stomach dropped and I bolted. My skirts weighed me down as I ran down the winding stairs, my pulse pounding louder with every step. By the time I reached the grand hall, Vincent was bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for air. My father stood before him, rigid and unmoving. King Gabriel Lavender. Ruler of the Light Kingdom. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his salt-and-pepper hair cut close to his head in a futile attempt to hide the gray he despised. His brown eyes were sharp, unyielding. Commoners whispered that his face was carved from stone—and they weren’t wrong. He rarely smiled. Rarely softened. Cold and angry defined my father now. There had been no room for warmth since my mother died. The thought of her sent a familiar ache through my chest. Two years had passed, yet the pain still lived deep in my veins. Talia Lavender—Queen of the Light Kingdom—had been beauty and kindness incarnate. Tall and graceful, with strawberry-blonde hair and bright blue eyes, she possessed a heart far too big for the fragile world she lived in. She walked among the people every Sunday, listening to their worries, offering comfort where she could. She loved this kingdom fiercely. And when she left it, part of the kingdom died with her. Two years without her laugh echoing through the palace. Two years since my father’s smile last dared to exist. “Layla.” My father’s voice snapped me back to the present—short, sharp, final. “Yes, Father?” I answered, stepping fully into the hall. Vincent had finally caught his breath, standing straighter now, though fear still clung to him like a second skin. “Return to your chambers,” my father ordered. “Father, please—” “SILENCE!” The word cracked through the hall like a whip. I lowered my gaze immediately, bowing my head to hide the sting behind my eyes. “Yes, Father.” I turned and began climbing the stairs, each step heavier than the last. “What now, Vincent?” my father demanded. I paused on the first landing, lingering in the shadows. At nearly twenty-five, and the sole heir to the throne, I had every right to know what plagued my kingdom. “Ten more went missing last night,” Vincent said quietly. “Taken from their bedchambers in the village.” My breath caught. “Do you have a list of names?” my father asked. I heard the faint crinkle of parchment before his voice rose, sharp with fury. “Half of this list is children, Vincent!” “I know, sire,” Vincent replied, his voice small. “We need to find who’s taking our people—and soon.” Silence followed, heavy and dangerous. “Get out there and find me answers,” my father roared. “Speak to every family of the missing. Do not return until you do.” I flinched. Footsteps echoed behind me. I didn’t wait to see who they belonged to. I climbed the stairs quickly, retreating to my chambers and forcing my face into calm neutrality—something I’d learned to master since my mother’s death. But no amount of composure could quiet the truth pounding in my chest. I was days away from my coronation to be Queen and the kingdom was crumbling. The Light Kingdom was losing its people. But how? Instead of returning to my chambers, I locked myself in my study. Potions, magic books, and crystals were sprawled across my desk, a chaotic constellation of my craft. The flickering candlelight cast long, dancing shadows across the walls, making the room feel alive—almost sentient. The Light Kingdom, a kingdom of witches who thrived on sunlight and magic. Our nights were short, and our days long to ensure our kingdom's strength. Everyone practiced some level of light magic within the kingdom and the royal family was made up of the most powerful witches and warlocks. I am the sole heir, to be crowned Queen on my twenty-fifth birthday, a fortnight away. My father has been dreading my coronation, suggesting I was not ready and now, with our village disappearing, I am beginning to agree with him. With only a few days left until I am Queen, the disappearances have been increasing. Who or what could be causing the disappearances? There was an answer to the mystery. I just had to find it.