Novel Bin
Chapter 47: The Whisper of a Curse
The capital buzzed with unease.
From the noble estates to the commoner streets, everyone whispered the same thing—
"The King is cursed."
They spoke of strange shadows in the palace, of his sleepless nights and growing paranoia. Of the black feathered omen that arrived with the Third Prince’s gruesome death.
Of the letter—the one written in his own son’s blood.
The King, once feared and revered, now walked with haunted eyes.
And Seraphis?
She giggled in the darkness.
"I guess it’s true," she mused, perching on a rooftop in her white raven form. "After all, I was the one who spread the rumor."
The city below her shivered in fear—and she bathed in the chaos.
But her work was far from over.
There was still one more piece to move.
The Queen.
A Queen’s Crimes
The Queen was known for her beauty, her grace, and her cunning.
But behind her golden silks and jeweled crown was a woman steeped in blood and deceit.
She was responsible for kidnappings, poisonings, and silencing anyone who dared defy her.
She framed innocents for her own crimes—turning once-loyal subjects into convicts and corpses.
She had killed, erased, and rewritten history for the sake of her throne.
And Seraphis?
She couldn’t wait to meet her.
The Infiltration
The palace gates were under heavy guard.
Since Lucius’s death, security had tripled.
Crossbows aimed from every tower.
Mages reinforced the walls with enchantments.
And the King himself barely slept, always watching, always waiting for the next attack.
Seraphis, still in her raven form, soared above it all.
She glided over the palace gardens, her white feathers catching the moonlight.
Then, in a whisper of magic and shadow, she shifted.
One moment, a bird.
The next—a royal maid.
With a silver tray in her hands and a bow of servitude, she slipped past the guards like a shadow in the night.
No one questioned her.
No one saw her for what she was.
She moved with trained grace, step by step, towards the Queen’s chamber.
A Late-Night Visit
The Queen’s private quarters were lavish and suffocating.
Golden chandeliers. Velvet drapes. The lingering scent of lavender and perfume.
She was seated by her vanity, brushing her obsidian-black hair, humming to herself.
"Another sleepless night, Your Majesty?"
The Queen froze.
Her gaze met the strange maid reflected in the mirror.
A maid she didn’t recognize.
Seraphis smiled, slow and knowing.
"Forgive me for intruding," she continued, stepping closer. "But I’ve prepared a special tea… just for you."
She set down the tray, lifting the ornate teacup with elegant fingers.
"A blend of the rarest herbs, meant to soothe the mind… and loosen the tongue."
The Queen narrowed her eyes.
"Who sent you?"
Seraphis chuckled.
"Does it matter?"
The Queen studied her for a moment—then, with a calculated smile, took the cup.
And drank.
The Taste of Terror
It took seconds.
Her grip tightened around the teacup.
Her breath hitched.
Her body stiffened.
The Queen gasped, eyes wide in horror as she tried to move—but found she couldn’t.
Her limbs felt heavy, her tongue sluggish.
"Paralysis?" she managed to choke out.
Seraphis sighed dramatically, taking the cup from her shaking hands.
"Oh no, nothing so simple."
She tilted the Queen’s chin up, her touch cold as death.
"It’s something much more fun."
The Queen’s heart pounded.
She could still breathe.
Still see.
Still think.
But she couldn’t move.
Couldn’t scream.
Couldn’t do anything but watch—as Seraphis took out her playing cards and began to sharpen them.
"Now then, Your Majesty… shall we play a game?"
The Game of Truth
Seraphis plucked a single playing card and held it before the Queen’s terrified gaze.
"Each question I ask, you will answer."
She twirled the card.
"If I suspect you’re lying… well, let’s just say this card is very, very sharp."
She let the blade-like edge graze the Queen’s cheek.
A thin red line appeared, followed by a slow, beading drop of blood.
The Queen shuddered.
Seraphis smiled.
"Good. Now… let’s begin."
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