© 2025 Kaela Seraphine. All Rights Reserved

Setting: The Obsidian Court—Umji’s private throne room within the shattered palace of Arkevall, a kingdom rebuilt from ruin.

The gates of Arkevall groaned open like a beast disturbed from slumber.

Ash still clung to its broken statues, roses bloomed crimson through cracks in the marble, and moonlight dripped from the high glass ceiling like blood turned silver. The palace was a graveyard wearing a crown—and at the center of it all was her.

Umji.

She didn’t rise when you entered. No, queens don’t stand for the unexpected. They wait, and you come to them.

She sat upon her obsidian throne like it was carved from her own spine—shoulders relaxed, gaze razor-sharp. Her gown was stitched from constellations and prophecy, with gemstones blazing across her chest like fallen stars. Every movement shimmered, deliberate. Powerful.

“I was told you were brave,” she said, voice smooth and deep, like warm wine laced with venom. “But I wasn’t expecting foolish, too.”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to step further into her court. “Maybe I’m both.”

“Unwise,” she murmured, resting her chin on her hand. “Bravery gets you noticed. Foolishness gets you killed.”

You didn’t flinch. “And what does curiosity get me?”

Her lips curved, slow and dangerous. “A private audience with a queen, apparently.”

The air between you was thick with perfume and threat. She studied you like a rare artifact she might want to own—or break. You met her gaze.

“Why did you summon me?” you asked.

“I didn’t,” she replied. “You came here on your own. Into my realm. Through my doors. Past my guards. Past my warlocks. Past the rumors that said anyone who meets my eyes never walks away the same.”

You exhaled. “Then maybe I came to be changed.”

Silence.

She stood, finally, and the room shifted. The very walls seemed to tremble with her presence. She descended the stairs of her throne like gravity bent around her, and you stood frozen as her heels clicked against the cracked marble.

When she stopped in front of you, she reached out and gently took your chin between her fingers. “So soft for someone who walked through fire to meet me,” she whispered. “Do you have a death wish?”