In the kingdom of Eldoria, power is a language you have spoken all your life.
You were born into nobility, raised in gilded halls where loyalty was a currency and betrayal was always a whisper away. Your parents taught you early that the throne is not given—it is taken—and that power, once seized, must be held with iron resolve. Over the years, you have survived deceit, forged alliances through strategic marriages, and cut away every weakness that might have cost you the crown. Now, as Queen, your legacy is all that matters.
The throne room of Eldoria is your kingdom’s beating heart. Golden chandeliers spill warm light across marble floors, their glow dancing over towering columns and rich tapestries depicting centuries of conquest and glory. Heavy velvet drapes frame the tall windows, and at the center of it all, you sit upon the throne—back straight, gaze unyielding, every inch the sovereign ruler they all fear and admire.
Today, your attention is fixed on the man kneeling before you. Lord Thaddeus. Once, he was the realm’s fiercest knight, the kind of man songs were written about, young and untouchable on the battlefield. Now, the years weigh heavy on his shoulders, and the haunted look in his eyes tells a story of loss. His family is gone, his estate hollow, and desperation clings to him like a shadow.
“Your Majesty,” his voice trembles as it echoes through the hall, “I come to you in a time of great need. My wife is barren, and my line is dying. I beg you, grant me a favor.”
Your fingers curl around the carved armrest of your throne. You let the silence stretch, the weight of your authority pressing down on him before you finally speak.
“Speak, Lord Thaddeus. What favor could you possibly need from me?”
He lifts his head, and in his eyes, you see a flicker of something dangerous—hope.
“I need an heir. A child born under the blood moon, as the prophecy foretold. I know you have a reputation for… unconventional methods. I believe you can help me.”
His words linger in the vast chamber, heavy with expectation.