Queen Seraphine did not like mysteries.
Mysteries implied gaps.
Gaps implied someone else had moved pieces on her board without permission.
She sat perfectly still on her throne, fan half-open in one hand, the other resting lightly against the armrest carved from blackwood and bone. The chamber around her was cathedral-wide and cold, lit by witchlights that never flickered.
The Sinister Seven had failed.
King and Joker two of her sharpest instruments had returned with excuses instead of a calamity.
And now the air itself had carried something impossible.
Music.
Not the kind played by court bards.
Not the kind used in rituals.
This had been a lullaby that reached across distance like a hand sliding under a locked door.
Seraphine for the first time in a long time had felt something brush the edge of her awareness.
She narrowed her eyes.
Show me, she commanded, not to a servant, but to the artifact embedded in the dais beneath her throne.
The calamity-scryer obeyed.
A pulse of light ran through the veins of the stone.
Then the artifact glowed.
And an image unfolded in the air like smoke being forced into shape.
Derpy.
The boy from another world.
Standing in moonlight.
Small dragon wings protruding through torn fabric.
A thin dragon tail flicking behind him like it didn’t yet know how to belong.
His hands were lifted not in battle, not in defense but as if he were playing an invisible instrument.
And there was a mouse girl half his size wrapped around him from behind.
Clinging.
Protective.
Possessive.
Seraphine’s lips parted.
Then she exhaled a single breath.
So it was the boy’s doing.
Her gaze sharpened.
The image wavered, but the sensation didn’t.
If his power could reach her throne room if a lullaby could cross wards older than kingdoms then this was not a problem she couldn't ignore.
Seraphine rose.
Her heels clicked once.
Then again.
She began pacing, fan snapping open and shut in a steady rhythm.
If he can touch this place, she murmured, then he can touch anything.
Her fan flicked.
The corner of her mouth lifted not warm, not kind but satisfied.
Maybe I don’t send hunters, she mused. Maybe I send a greeting.
Her eyes gleamed.
Let’s see how strong he is.
A soft sound slipped from her throat the kind that sounded like silk being pulled across a blade.
Then she turned, cloak whispering behind her, and left the throne room without calling for a single guard.
Because she did not need them.
The corridor to the lower chambers was warmer.
Not from comfort.
From containment.
The castle’s roots held prisoners the way a spider held prey quietly, patiently, forever.
Seraphine’s steps slowed as she approached the iron-latticed doors.
Sir Reginal stood at attention beside them, armor polished, posture rigid, eyes forward.
He did not flinch when Seraphine arrived.
He never did.
Your Majesty, he said, voice flat.
Open it, Seraphine replied.
Reginal obeyed.
The locks clicked.
The door groaned.
And inside
Hina was perched on the edge of her bed like she’d been waiting for the moment to pounce.
Her hair was immaculate.
Her expression was not.
It was too sharp.
Too bright.
A look that belonged to someone who had learned to laugh so she wouldn’t scream.
Seraphine stepped in.
I have a job for the both of you, she said.
Hina’s expression dropped instantly.
No, she said, simple as that.
The vines answered her anger.
They erupted from the stone floor with a wet crack twisting, thorned, hungry and shot toward Seraphine’s throat.
They stopped inches from her.
Frozen.
Held in place by nothing visible.
Seraphine didn’t move.
The vines simply stopped.
As if the world itself had been told no.
Seraphine looked at them like she’d been offered a boring gift.
Unimpressed.
Why now? Hina demanded, eyes flashing. Why all of a sudden you wanted me here?
Then as if the question wasn’t enough
Hina did a jester’s cartwheel across the room.
She landed in a bow, giggling, arms spread wide like she was on stage.
Never giving your own daughter a chance, she sang, voice lilting with poison. Always deciding what’s best for her. Always deciding. Always.
Her expression snapped into something colder.
I’m not your daughter, she said. You once knew. I’m your prisoner, Mother.
The word Mother hit the room like a thrown knife.
Sir Reginal’s hand tightened on his spear.
Seraphine’s face didn’t change.
But she moved.
She crossed the room in three steps.
And she hugged Hina.
It was sudden.
It was intimate.
It was wrong.
Hina went rigid, like a doll with its strings pulled too tight.
Seraphine’s voice softened into something that could have been love if it wasn’t sharpened at the edges.
If you do this job, Seraphine whispered, I will listen to whatever request you have.
Hina’s throat bobbed.
Her eyes darted.
Suspicion.
Hope.
Hate.
All fighting for space.
This job is important, Seraphine added.
Hina hesitated.
Then slowly
She nodded.
Fine, she said, voice too light. But if you lie
I won’t, Seraphine cut in.
Hina’s expression shifted again.
Not happy.
Hungry.
Seraphine stepped back, fan snapping open.
You and Sir Reginal will go, she said. You will greet the young man.
Her eyes narrowed.
Ask him to have an audience with me.
Sir Reginal inclined his head.
Hina tilted hers.
Why? Hina asked, sweet as sugar.
Seraphine’s expression thinned.
Because I don’t think my Sinister Seven can handle this calamity, she said. And I fear what it becomes if I let it grow.
The artifact’s glow still lingered behind Seraphine’s eyes.
Derpy.
Wings.
Tail.
Music.
A boy being claimed.
Seraphine closed her fan with a sharp snap.
Bring him to me, she said.
And she left them with the order hanging in the air like a curse.
Moonlight again.
Fog again.
The Whispering Hollows didn’t care about queens.
Lenora adjusted her grip on Derpy’s shoulder as they moved, eyes scanning the trees.
Derpy walked on his own now, but he kept glancing back like he expected the forest to swallow someone.
Lewd stayed glued to him, half a step behind, hands fidgeting at her dress.
Vespera led, rings quiet but ready.
Riven trailed near Lenora’s side, watching Derpy with that intense, curious stare.
Derpy’s voice finally broke the silence.
Is everyone okay? he asked.
Lenora didn’t answer immediately.
Because the honest answer was no.
But she looked at him really looked
And heard the faintest echo of that lullaby still trapped in the air.
We’re alive, Lenora said at last. That’s what matters.
Derpy nodded, swallowing hard.
His wings twitched.
His tail curled once around his ankle like it was trying to hide.
And somewhere far behind them in a castle that thought itself untouchable
A queen had just decided to reach for him