Royal Reboot: Level up, Your Majesty!

Silence of the Senses

1

Eydis tilted the quartz, watching the last rays of daylight struggle to make it shine. It was nothing more than a dull, dusty lemon drop compared to the heirlooms she once wore. But an exiled queen living off a library paycheck and riding a yellow bus couldn’t afford to be picky.

Astra slid into the vinyl seat beside her, as animated as a statue. “Your taste in pebbles,” she said, eyeing the quartz, “is as questionable as your napping habits.”

Eydis smirked. “Oh, this one’s not for me. Some people understand subtlety.”

Astra’s automatic scowl shifted into something close to genuine annoyance. Evening light poured over her hair and made her look irritatingly ethereal. 

“But for you, amethysts,” she mused.

The Ice Princess's eyes widened. "Amethysts? Why so?"

"Serenity and intuition.” Eydis’s grin widened as Astra almost, almost smiled.

“Didn’t take you for the crystal nonsense type.”

“Ah, Astra,” Eydis said. “In a world where people shoot fire from their hands, nonsense is a matter of perspective.”

The bus vibrated onward. Sleep tugged at Eydis’s lashes; she refused to nod off on Astra’s shoulder a second time.

Dignity, thy name is not Eydis.

She surveyed the nearly deserted bus. Last run of the night. Seats everywhere.

And yet… hmm.

Eydis leaned closer. “All these open seats, yet you’re right here. Coincidence, or just good taste?”

Astra straightened, pink blooming across her cheekbones as realisation dawned. She made to move, but Eydis brushed a fingertip across her wrist.

"Relax,” Eydis said quietly. “Your brooding silence is preferable to most company.”

Astra muttered something under her breath but stayed put. “Drool on me again, and I’m billing you for dry cleaning.”

Eydis gasped. “Dry cleaning? In this economy? Astra, the Treasury is held together with hope and unpaid overtime. Besides,” she added with a grin, “I wouldn’t dream of leaving a mark on you.”

“Mark?” Astra frowned. "Forget it."

“A gentle touch, applied with care and the right pressure, can work wonders on even the most stubbornly damp—“

“Eydis!”

“—Garment,” Eydis finished. “Isn't that how those washing machines work, Astra? Where was your mind going?”

Astra glared at the window as if contemplating throwing herself through it. “Is your brain physically incapable of a straightforward thought?”

“I could think in straight lines.” Eydis beamed, “but why waste the curvature of possibility?”

Astra’s lips twitched, but she caught herself. “Between drools and essence…,” she stopped as Eydis’s grin widened. 

Played!  

Right into her trap.

The bus screeched to a stop. St. Kevin’s. 

Eydis rose with a grace she had no right to, given the scuffed boots and mismatched earrings. “Time flies when the dialogue is stimulating, doesn’t it?”

Astra scoffed. “Stimulating? You—”

“Until next time, Your Grumpiness.” Eydis winked and vanished down the aisle.

The doors folded shut. Astra stared after her, annoyance giving way to reluctant amusement.

Eydis turned the so-called lemon drop in her palm, letting the final splinters of light work their quiet magic. Cheap, yes, yet...

It still gleamed.

As Eydis headed for the Dining Hall (the cafeteria, really; apparently, draping dinner in white tablecloths was enough to elevate boiled vegetables into ceremony) she noticed a queue of students snaking across the quad, restless, oddly eager.

At lunchtime, the doors were always open to all. But dinner demanded reverence. Arrive late and dinner meant instant noodles. She had learned that the hard way after an unfortunate tennis court incident left her running a week-long noodle-based survival test.

Disturbingly, she’d even started enjoying Tom Yum. A betrayal of bloodline, really.

Astra chose not to join the line. She spun on her heel and stalked away.

“Patrol duty,” she muttered over her shoulder, which translated neatly to I refuse to die eating that beef slab again.

Eydis slid in beside Natalia, Colette, and Birgit, who vibrated near the double doors. If hunger made a sound, this was it.

“How’d the contact lens fitting go?” Natalia grinned. “Did you traumatise the doctor?”

“Traumatise? Please. I’m a delight,” Eydis answered, though a strange tension distracted her.

The doors flew open before she could elaborate. Students surged forward like they were charging into battle. And in a way, they were.

Inside, the battlefield waited.

A long table sagged beneath mediocrity. Roast beef floated in oily brown gravy. Even the hungriest rat might have thought twice. And yet, the crowd attacked it like it was a royal feast. Forks scraped, voices rose.

Birgit wrestled with her ninth juice box. Eydis sighed, plucked it away, and finished it in one gulp.

“Hey!” Birgit screeched, bouncing on her toes.

“Sugar addiction is the gateway to everything terrible,” Eydis said, entirely calm.

“I need it,” Birgit insisted, trembling.

Colette jabbed at her with half a baguette. “Franchement, your juice-box fixation scares me.” She bit down hard enough to crack walnuts; even Envy might have applauded.

Impressive, hissed the serpent, uninvited and unhelpful as usual.

Natalia nodded, or so Eydis assumed since a vanishing bag of marshmallows hid most of her face. Where had she even found those?

Before Birgit could launch into a lecture on juice-box rights, a thud interrupted. 

Two previously mild-mannered boys were now locked in a death match over a single, limp carrot.

"YOU TOOK MY CARROT!" 

"Took more 'n yer fair share, YA FARKIN’ IDIOT!" 

A rogue Brussels sprout arced through the air, splattering against Ms May’s pristine blouse. She blinked, lifted the vegetable, and popped it into her mouth.

“Harumph.” She swallowed it whole.

That should have been the strangest moment of the day. It was not.

Birgit’s hands quivered as she reached for more juice.

“Stop,” Eydis said, covering Birgit’s sticky fingers.

Birgit jerked away. “Don’t steal my nectar!”

“Nectar?” Eydis said. “You’re getting poetic.”

“One more sip and I might… I might…” Shivers rippled through Birgit; pupils shrank.

Oh? 

Not good.

Eydis caught Birgit reflexively before she collapsed.

“What’s happening?” Natalia and Colette shouted together, finally remembering there were things beyond carbohydrates.

“Infirmary! Now!”

They quickly carried Birgit out of the hall, her delirious muttering about juice crimes fading into the distance, but Eydis’s mind had already leapt elsewhere.

This was Gluttony.

But not the version she expected. No visible excess. No grotesque cravings. No scent of rot or compulsion. As if muted.

It was the food, wasn’t it?

Gluttony wasn’t indulging them. He was starving them. Slowly. Subtly. Leeching vitality at the source. The poison lay in decay, not indulgence.

Eydis had been spared for one reason alone: she hadn’t been eating here.

How long had this been happening? Since she rejoined the girls for meals, or even longer?

A cold splash broke her focus: water from her overturned cup slid over her fingers. She hadn’t felt it fall. Across the room, two boys collapsed to the floor. Writhing. Foaming. Theo sat beside them, silver eyes wide with something close to fear.

“Look up!” someone yelled.

Thick purple mist bled from the ceiling, creeping like an oozing nightmare. Shadows stretched across every face.

“The Purple Smoke,” Theo said. “It’s here.”

He rose.

“Everyone evacuate. Now.”