/-Unknown pov-/
That evening, they dined together.
Just the two of them.
As they ate, she reminded him of the royal stables: how she used to sneak sugar cubes to the horses, and teased him about the stable boy who might've had a crush on her.
Pain flared through King Alias' heart.
Taralynn spoke of the books she wanted to read and the places she hoped to visit. When she said, "I want to fall in love before I'm twenty," King Alias forced a smile and gently squeezed her hand.
But then the royal guards entered.
He stood up. With trembling lips, he gave the order.
"Take her."
Taralynn's smile slowly dropped. Her eyes widened. "Papa? What… what are you talking about?"
The moment her father refused to meet her eyes or offer any explanation, Taralynn knew the King of the North had done something she would never forgive.
______________________________
The ritual chamber hadn't been used in over a century, but bloodstains of animals were visible.
Taralynn stepped inside without a word, until her eyes met the altar where her childhood friends stood.
Princess Aurelie of the West and Princess Elowyn of the East.
She stopped cold. "You too?"
They nodded, lowering their gaze.
"My father told me the truth," Elowyn murmured.
Aurelie licked her chapped lips. "We're saving the world."
Taralynn glared at them. "This isn't salvation," she spat. "It's pure wickedness… a damn lie our fathers told us so we can accept our fate." tears welled up in her eyes. "I… I am not ready to die."
Aurelie and Elowyn broke down crying. What else could they do? What hope was left? What use was their belief now?
They were all going to die. As they cried, three sisters of the Pale Chorus stepped forward and took their places behind each of them.
None of the girls saw the swords hidden beneath the sisters' shawls.
If they had, they would have tried to run.
They only stopped crying when the Pale Lady brushed Taralynn's cheek with her cold shriveled fingers.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "But this is the cost of the veil's protection. If we don't do this, demons will eat everyone and turn them into the undead. The Creator demands it. We must only obey."
Then, she raised her hand.
And brought it down.
The sisters' swords sliced across the girls' throats.
Blood spurted out in thick, dark jets, spraying the Pale Chorus sisters. It soaked their clothes, dripped down their chins, and pooled on the cold ground.
King Alias of the North, King Draven I of the East, King Raleigh I of the West, and their queens watched on without shedding a single tear.
The sacrifice was done.
But the second prophecy of a curse… did not go away.
____________________________
Eighty-five years later, King Alias died quietly in the arms of his Queen—Sera.
Though he was surrounded by thousands of personal guards and family, he never sought joy in their embrace.
His heart belonged only to Taralynn, his beloved daughter.
In his private room, he kept her portraits, and a small wooden box filled with things she once treasured as a bright girl: 2 smooth river stones, a dead flower, 3 carved toys, and a worn-out doll.
All useless.
Immediately the king passed, Queen Sera gathered every memory that tied them to Taralynn. She burned the portraits, the box, the creepy doll, every-single-thing that reminded House of Raventhorn of Taralynn.
Her heart broke again and again. At the end, grief consumed Queen Sera. Within a year, she too was claimed by a complicated heart stroke that left the Castle Court of Veldera stunned.
Though the kingdom mourned deeply, the Black throne couldn't be empty.
That very night, King Aldrich Raventhorn—the second born, and first son of the family was crowned King of the North.
His reign began with quiet strength, lasting fifty years.
And so peace settled over the land… or so it seemed.
The question was: who knew the prophecy and curse would pass down from one generation to the next?
King Aldrich was aware of the crown's burden, yet he chose to ignore it. Each time his Queen, Isolde, tried to reason with him not to forget the sacrifice his father made to keep the undead at bay, he refused to listen.
"Let the dead keep their secrets!" King Aldrich yelled one night after dinner. "I swear to the Creator, Isolde. If you repeat this madness about blood sacrifices again, I'll kill you myself."
Queen Isolde's heartbeat quickened as she struggled to find her next words. "For over a hundred years, your father held to a promise. I can feel the unrest in the kingdom, Aldrich… if you would just listen…"
A sharp sound echoed through the room.
Queen Isolde gasped, her cheek going numb from the force of his slap. Outside the chamber, the guards and maids flinched. None of them had gotten proper sleep in days. It was always like this.
Whenever the Queen dared to speak her mind, the King would silence her with a slap.
Then fuck her mercilessly. After that, they would all spend the night tending to the Queen's thigh bruises and split lips.
"I will not indulge in this fucking superstition. You're all insane!" King Aldrich thundered. With blinding speed, he grabbed her by the throat. "If you weren't my queen, I would've killed you already!"
In a fever of rage, he tore her nightgown.
"Aldrich…" Queen Isolde warned. She knew what was coming. Still, she closed her eyes… caught between fear and bitter disappointment. Lately, she could hardly tell the difference between the two.
King Aldrich yanked down her undergarments without ceremony. There was no teasing, or whispers of sweet nothings. He lifted her legs midair, drew out his thick, hot cock, and slammed into her slit without warning.
Queen Isolde hissed through her teeth. "This is madness, Aldrich. It's consuming you…"
"Shut up, woman," King Aldrich growled, desperate for release. His grip around her throat tightened as he pounded harder. Each of her helpless cries seemed to make his cock grow thicker inside her.