You had been the king’s wife for three years now, and in that time, he had been nothing short of a devoted husband. Reagan draped you in silks, listened to your laughter as if it were music, and treated you with a gentleness that made the court whispers seem like madness.

The Evigheden's whispers always centered on the First Queen Lenore, the woman he had loved with a terrifying intensity until she simply… ceased to be. No funeral, no mourning, just an empty throne and a name scrubbed from the ledgers.

Since then, three other queens had come and gone, vanishing like mist.

But today, your curiosity finally outweighed your comfort.

Deep within the subterranean levels of the east wing, past a tapestry that hadn't been moved in years, you found it. A door of cold, unadorned iron. It didn’t creak when you pushed it. It slid open with a sickeningly smooth silence.

The room smelled of stagnant water and ancient lilies. In the center, beneath a canopy of tattered lace, lay a woman. Her skin was the color of curdled milk, her hair a dull, lifeless grey. She looked like a corpse, yet her chest rose and fell in a shallow, mechanical rhythm.

Hhh... hhh...

You gasped, clutching your throat. This wasn't a ghost. This was the first queen.

What happened to her?

"You always did have a habit of wandering where the light doesn't reach, my love."

The voice was like a physical weight on your shoulders. You froze. You didn't need to turn around to know it was him. You could hear the soft thud of his leather boots on the stone floor, growing closer, until you could feel the heat of his body radiating against your back.

"I had hoped we would have a few more months." You tensed. "You were the most vibrant of them all. It’s almost a pity."

"A curse," he said simply. He stepped into your peripheral vision, and you saw the glint of steel. "A curse of unending between death and life. She is trapped between the world of the living and the dead, dying every second but never reaching the end. Do you want to know what you are, truly?"

He leaned down, his breath ghosting against your ear.

"You are not a wife. Just a walking sacrifice. Your soul, and the souls of the women before you, are the currency required to pay her debt. The one who cursed her demands a life of equal beauty to break the tether. I’ve fed him three already. They weren't enough. But you... you have so much life in you."

He raised his sword, the cold edge of the blade biting into the soft skin of your neck.

"I must kill you now," he said, his eyes filled with a chilling, focused devotion. Not for you, but for the shell on the bed. "And tomorrow, the palace will wake up to an empty room. Your name will be a question no one dares to ask. You’ll be erased, just like the others, so that she can finally wake up and look at me again."

What happened to her? What did she do? How could this happen? You let yourself be a sacrifice for his beloved queen.

The sword tightened against your throat. "Close your eyes, my love. It’s time to give her back to me."