The Obsidian Mirror
Princess Lyra of Eldoria gazed at her reflection, a placid image of grace and beauty. Her maids fluttered around her, their movements a practiced ballet of silks and soft whispers. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and the subtle metallic tang of fear, though Lyra attributed it to Elara’s usual pre-ceremony jitters. Today was the annual Ritual of Temperance, a tradition Lyra had always been told was a blessing, a sacred anointing of purity and strength for the royal bloodline. She was merely a vessel, a symbol of Eldoria’s timeless devotion to peace and order.
E.g. ：I caught my husband and my best friend in our bed, and my world shattered.
- 1、The Obsidian Mirror
- 2、A Prick of Destiny
- 3、The Crimson Bloom
- 4、Unveiling the Ancient Truth
- 5、Echoes of a Forgotten Lineage
- 6、A New Dawn, A Terrifying Truth
- 7、The Fox and the Crown
The grand chamber of the ancient palace, usually a sanctuary of quiet opulence, seemed to hold its breath. Gold gleamed from every surface, catching the light from sparkling crystal chandeliers. Flowing silk curtains draped the towering windows, and ancient magical artifacts adorned pedestals, their surfaces polished to a blinding sheen. Lyra had always found comfort in this room, a place that felt like home. She had no idea the secrets it held, or the true nature of the ‘temperance’ she was about to undergo.
A Prick of Destiny
Elara, her most trusted maid, approached with the ceremonial gown, a masterpiece of ivory silk interwoven with countless pearls. Her hands, usually steady, trembled ever so slightly as she helped Lyra into the ornate garment. Lyra barely noticed, lost in thoughts of her future, of a reign she hoped would be peaceful and just. As Elara fastened the last pearl clasp near Lyra's collarbone, a tiny, almost invisible silver thread, woven intricately into the fabric, snagged.
With a soft, almost inaudible 'snick', the thread snapped. Elara gasped, her eyes widening in a mixture of fear and clumsy apology. She hadn’t meant to. But the damage was done. A faint pinprick of discomfort registered on Lyra’s skin where the thread had caught. It wasn't pain, not truly, but a sudden, icy tremor that seized her very core. It felt as though a vital circuit had been breached, a dam suddenly cracking under immense pressure.
The Crimson Bloom
Lyra’s breath caught in her throat. Her vision blurred for a dizzying moment, then sharpened with terrifying clarity. The calm sapphire of her eyes began to shift, a faint crimson glow blossoming from within her pupils. Elara, frozen mid-apology, stared in horror. The other maids, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, paused their preparations, their faces contorting into masks of confusion and growing dread.
The air in the magnificent chamber crackled with an unseen energy. The silken curtains, moments ago still and serene, began to billow violently inward, as if a gale had erupted from within the very stones of the palace. The golden ornaments on the dressing table began to vibrate, their delicate chiming growing into a frantic rattle. Elara stumbled backward, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a rising scream. A low, guttural growl rumbled from Lyra's chest, a sound utterly alien to the gentle princess.
Unveiling the Ancient Truth
Terror became palpable. "Princess! What's wrong?" Elara cried, her voice trembling. The other maids echoed her, their anxious questions layering into a cacophony of fear. But Lyra couldn't answer. Her jaw clenched, her head thrashed as an invisible force seemed to wrestle within her. The faint crimson glow in her eyes intensified, painting the intricate patterns on the ceiling in an eerie, pulsing light.
The vibration in the room escalated. A heavy silver crown, resting on a velvet cushion nearby, suddenly leaped from its stand and clattered to the marble floor, rolling away with a hollow clang. One by one, the dozens of scented candles illuminating the room snuffed out instantly, plunging the chamber into a shadowy twilight, save for the terrifying, growing crimson light emanating from Lyra. A faint, almost imperceptible red mist began to spread from beneath her skin, rapidly engulfing her.
Echoes of a Forgotten Lineage
The maids shrieked, their composure shattering. One brave, or perhaps foolish, maid reached out to steady Lyra, her hand instantly recoiling from an invisible surge of heat. The crimson mist solidified, forming a dazzling aura that pulsed with ancient, uncontrollable magic. Objects in the room began to not just vibrate, but to shake violently. Crystal goblets slid from shelves and crashed to the ground. Paintings rattled in their frames.
Then, with a terrifying, primal roar that seemed to tear through the very fabric of reality, Lyra threw her head back. A dazzling torrent of crimson ancient magical energy exploded outwards from her, sweeping across the room. The opulent silk curtains whipped into a frenzy, tearing from their ornate rods. Flowers from delicate vases, decorative jewels, and even entire pieces of light furniture were swirled into the air, caught in the vortex of raw power.
