A crown of borrowed magic

prologue

Ten years ago.

"Mama, can you tell me a story?" little Eliana asked, her fingers twisting the hem of her dress. It was late and dark; she ought to have been asleep, but her thoughts spiraled endlessly toward the great houses.

"What story would you like to hear, my little star?" Ophelia replied, threading the needle she used to stitch Eliana's gowns.

Eliana's eyes sparkled. "The one about the twelve noble houses!" she exclaimed, eager for the tale she had heard countless times since birth.

The story was mandatory, whispered to every child as soon as they could suckle at their mother’s bosom. Some called it “Woe to the House of Greed.” It was a tale peculiar to every house in the land of Bor.

Ophelia rolled her eyes. She had told Eliana the story too many times to count, yet her daughter’s fascination never waned. Clearing her throat, she began.

"Long ago, there were twelve noble houses of Bor, ruling the land in the absence of kings. Blessed by the gods, each house received magic for their kind."

Eliana squealed, but Ophelia hushed her.

"The birth of magic called for a festival across the land—a celebration to display the gifts the gods had bestowed. The houses were called in order of their discovery: House Weryn, House Belor, House Ashbourne, House Ravencroft, House Varly, House Soryn, House Whitlbel, House Blackrune, House Ereyn, House Nislir, House Slothill, and House Chryl.

"But when the council summoned House Nislir—the quietest of all the houses—the lady of the house burst into tears.

'Greetings to all who celebrate with great joy, for you have found a box of power from the gods. While I slept,' she cried, 'the lady of House Soryn stole my gift. My house has no power and has been cheated of our magic! I plead for justice!'

"House Soryn protested, but a seer from House Ravencroft saw the two gifts in Soryn’s possession and declared them thieves.

The lord of House Blackrune interjected, 'How certain are you that they are thieves?'

"But the other houses dismissed him, for he loved the lady of House Soryn. They voted upon the punishment to befall the disgraced house, and all agreed: they would become a spectacle. They could not destroy the house entirely, for that would upset the balance of power. So it was kept alive, yet humbled—reduced to something less than dogs fighting for scraps.

"The remaining eleven houses devised the Games—a brutal contest meant to humble and torment the accused lineage. Generation after generation, their descendants were forced to compete, their blood carefully controlled and interwoven to ensure the curse endured. To the rest of the realm, they were no longer nobles, but mere entertainment."

Before Ophelia could continue, she found Eliana fast asleep. She tucked her daughter in, smoothing the covers, and washed her tiny feet with sea worm’s blood—a ward against evil.

But for how long could she continue?

Evil lingered close, biding its time. One day, it would come knocking at her door. And Ophelia wondered if she would ever be ready—for herself, and for her daughter.