Meriel
The War Council hall in Izzadar’s palace was cold. Not merely from the stone walls, but from what was being prepared upon the table. The largest map was laid out, spread wide, its edges curled from repeated opening and folding. The lines were drawn in black ink—mountains, rivers, cities, and the Dark Kingdom at its heart. Candles were scattered at the edges, their flames dancing with every small breath, gleaming on the ink and casting shadows across faces.
There were three of them.
Meriel, King of Izzadar, stood at the head of the table. His eyes did not move from one point on the map—the Dark Kingdom. His gaze was resolute. His entire body was frozen save for his fingers, which tapped slowly on the table’s edge. Tap… tap… tap. He was not angry. He was focused. He saw the battle before it began.
Across from him stood Layla. Her gaze moved across the map with fear. Her fingers gripped the table’s edge as if she feared falling—knuckles white and trembling. Her tension was visible in her shoulders, in the way she stood—a woman in a place she had not grown accustomed to. She wanted to say something. Her lips parted. Then closed. The words would not come.
Beside Meriel stood William. He leaned on his cane, his weight shifted to his good leg. He looked at Meriel and smiled. The smile was calm—lips curving slowly, deliberately. But the eyes behind it moved. Reading. Calculating.
Then William raised his cane—high, quietly. The iron tip caught the candlelight, and he placed it somewhere on the map.
The cane pointed to the Dark Sea.
Meriel looked at him. His brow furrowed. His expression was a complete question.
“My war is here,” said William. His voice was low. Level.
Meriel looked at Layla. Then at William. His hand rose from the table, fingers spreading. “Why? One army. United. We could break any wall. Topple any bridge.”
“A united army is a single target,” said William. His voice was low. Level. His fingers wrapped tighter around the cane. “The sea will not make us weaker. It will make us unseen. If all goes as it should—Thornholl falls. And Robert’s head with it.”
Layla opened her mouth. She tried to say something. Her hand rose from the table—then fell. But Meriel interrupted her:
“A war at sea without ships—how is that possible?” He leaned forward, both hands now flat on the table.
“Indeed. But as far as I know, Izzadar already has its own ships.” William tilted his head.
“For decades the ships have been dead. As dead as the sea they were meant to ride.” Meriel’s voice was flat. “The sea has abandoned us for decades. The kingdom abandoned the sea as well.” His hand swept across the map dismissively.
“Can they float?” William’s eyes narrowed.
“If we have time. To repair them. Perhaps.” Meriel nodded slowly.
“Then we find the time. Ships are wood. Wood can be fixed. But we need men who know all the sea routes to lead those ships.” William tapped his cane once on the floor.
“There are men who left the sea long ago. They can be persuaded.” Meriel’s jaw tightened.
While they debated, Layla left the council. Without a word. Her footsteps were soft, but quick. The door closed behind her with a muffled click.
William looked at the door. Then at Meriel. “What is wrong?”
“I do not know.” Meriel’s shoulders rose and fell.
William returned to the map. His finger traced a line. “If the ships sail—where do they sail to?”
He raised his cane and placed it on the map. The iron tip pressed into the parchment. “Here.”
The point indicated the rear of the Dark Kingdom.
“Many have fallen because they did not watch their backs properly. Why? Because they do not have eyes behind their skulls. But even if this one had eyes, they would not be enough, because of the darkness he carries on his back.” William’s voice was quiet.
“The rear of the kingdom. You know you will face Salter’s ships if you decide to fight in those waters. I do not believe that the man who calls himself the King of the Six Seas will allow you to pass through his seas.” Meriel crossed his arms over his chest.
“I know. If I must face him, I will. But I will pass through the High Isles. A wide berth. So I may take time before I reach Thornholl.” William shrugged one shoulder.
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“Marcus has eyes there.” Meriel’s eyes narrowed.
“Let him look. A man sees what you show him. Nothing more.” William paused. He contemplated the map. His finger traced the isles. “I walked the shipyard. Fifty ships. Not many. But enough.”
“When did you inspect the ships?” Meriel’s head tilted.
“Yesterday. I took a tour of the kingdom. And I looked at that side of it.” He raised his eyes. “A man who calls himself King of the Six Seas—I must know his waters better than he does. The sea will not favour us. So we will use something that will not favour him either.”
“What is it?” Meriel leaned forward.
“Darkness.” William paused. Then he continued: “And you. You face Robert, hmm?”
“I know who my enemy is. I will break his walls. Shatter them. Enter. And take his head.” Meriel’s fist clenched at his side.
“No, my lord. You will not break his walls, Because, as far as I know, he won't be there. I'm not completely sure, but time will tell. Until that time, You will walk through the front gate. When I open it. Wait at a distance. Watch for the signal.” He paused. He looked directly at Meriel. His eyes were steady. “I saw him. In Thornholl. His eyes. A man who lets you break his walls—that is not the clever man I saw. Blind or not, he will see you coming.”
Meriel was silent. He was thinking. His fingers drummed once on the table. Then he said: “What did you say about Robert?”
“Blind.” William’s brow furrowed.
“No. Before that.” Meriel shook his head.
“Clever?” William tilted his head.
“Yes. Clever. Is that what you saw?” Meriel stepped closer.
“Yes.” William nodded once.
“Strange. I have known Robert my whole life. And hated him for most of it. But from my knowledge of him, he is not clever or cunning. He is logical and strict. He also hates war. Even Gerald, before he died, used to argue with me about that man’s realism.” He paused. He gripped the table’s edge. His knuckles paled. “But what happened? Why would he cut off Gerald’s head for no reason? Why would he spread chaos across the entire continent? What is his goal? War? No. I do not think so. He is too cowardly for that.”
“What do you mean?” William’s eyes narrowed.
“I do not know. But that day in the maze—the Robert I knew went in. A different one came out. Something happened in there. Something I cannot explain. And since that day, I have thought of nothing but revenge. As if he wants me to.” Meriel’s voice dropped.
“It does not matter. We must focus now. What happened, happened. I do not know Robert as you know him. But I know what a crown can do to the minds of kings. Especially in a dark place. Nothing would surprise me. So let us focus on our war now. Nothing else.” William’s hand rose and fell.
“Yes. I drifted. Forgive me.” Meriel straightened.
Sersine
Inside Sereine’s chamber in the maidservants’ wing, the light was dim. A small oil lamp on the table. Shadows danced on the walls. The room was narrow. A bed. A mirror. A wooden chair. A small, closed window.
Sereine stood before the mirror. In silence.
But she was not seeing her reflection.
She was seeing her brother. Marcus. Standing before her. Looking at her with disappointment. The face in the mirror was clear. His eyes were sharp. His mouth was tight.
“What? You could not do it? Why? Is that not why you are there in the first place?” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
Sereine looked at him. At the reflection. At the shadow that resembled her brother. Her hands hung at her sides.
“I thought I could. But I could not. Forgive me.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Marcus smiled. A calm smile. His head tilted. “Why? Did honour stop you?”
She did not reply. Her eyes dropped to the floor.
“If honour stopped you, then it has become your enemy, sister. Those who climb to the top do not climb with honour on their shoulders; rather, they climb upon it. Do you think honour saved you that day? It did not. I abandoned our father, our mother, our brother. I abandoned them, and my honour with them. If I had stayed there without moving, hesitating, we would both have died.” His voice fell upon her like small stones.
“Do not hesitate, sister. I sent you there for a reason. You know what you must do. Do it before the war begins. The lives of kings are not guaranteed. Especially when war is brewing all around.”
Sereine turned. She went to her bed. She sat down. Her chest tightened. She was debating her principles. She looked at her hands. At the hand that would do what she had been sent to do. She heard her brother’s voice as if he were still in the room. But she no longer looked at the mirror.
Then came a knock at her door.
She rose, startled. Her hand flew to her chest. She went to the door. She opened it slowly.
Layla stood at the door. Sereine looked at her. “You are awake.”
“Good. I want to talk with you. May I come in?” Layla’s hands were clasped before her.
Sereine opened the door in silence. Layla entered. She looked around. At the bed. At the mirror. At the window. She smiled. “You can speak in front of me, then?”
“Yes.” Sereine nodded.
Layla stood before Sereine’s mirror. She looked at her reflection. “Why do you pretend to be mute anyway?”
“I do not pretend. I grew up alone. Words were not given freely. I speak when my tongue chooses. Not when others do.” Sereine’s hands folded before her.
“And you chose to speak with me?” Layla turned from the mirror.
“With you—I had no choice.” Sereine’s lips curved slightly.
“Tell me about your brother. What you said—was it true? Is he a bad man?” said Sereine. The room was quiet. The lamp crackled faintly.
“No, no. It was only in a moment of anger. When a woman is angry, she does not remember what comes out of her mouth.” Layla shook her head.
Sereine said, “Why did you come here? Forgive me. I only wanted to know if there was a specific reason.”
“No. There is no reason. I, too, was not in a place that allowed me to speak. So I came to have a little chat with you.” Layla shrugged one shoulder.
“I see.” Sereine nodded.
“Outside, war is all that matters. And what does a woman like me know of war? I have never been in one. I have never held a sword. I do not know our enemies. Or even our allies. So I stood there. Silent.” Layla’s voice was quiet.
“A woman finds her place hard in this world.” Sereine’s eyes softened.
“Every day,” said Layla.
Sereine looked at Layla. “Wine?”
“No, thank you. I will leave you to rest. It seems working in this palace is tiring.” Layla went to the door. Then she stopped. Her hand rested on the frame. “Goodnight, klara. I truly enjoyed talking with you. Thank God you are not mute. You are a lifesaver.”
Sereine smiled. “Goodnight. I hope you find your place.”
Layla left. She closed the door behind her.
Sereine remained standing. She looked at the door. At the small gap through which light crept. The sound of Layla’s footsteps faded down the corridor.
Then she returned to the bed. She sat down. She looked at the mirror. At the woman sitting there.
It was another woman looking back at her now. Not klara. Not Sereine.
It was something between them.
And the thing she would do was drawing nearer.