Hakayas povThe armies of the Shadow Alliance gathered like storm clouds on every horizon. Scouts spoke of banners black as night, of priests wielding fire older than kings, of mercenaries sworn by blood rather than coin. But all their strength meant nothing compared to her.The shadow woman. The heir I had not chosen. The other me.Every step I took through the palace echoed with her voice. Every glance into a mirror showed her eyes staring back. Even the lilies that bloomed at my feet bent toward darkness now, their petals streaked with crimson as though they, too, were divided in loyalty.War was coming, yes, but it was also already inside me.We met them on the plains north of the capital.My army stretched wide, rebels and freedmen and outcasts bound beneath banners of violet flame. The lilies bloomed in great carpets behind us, their roots trembling with hunger.Across the field, the Alliance waited. Black banners whipped in the wind. Priests chanted, their voices weaving into s

Lilly/Darkside's povFrom the moment she could walk, Lily was unlike any other child. Her cries shook the rafters, her laughter made flames flicker, and her eyes... violet, touched with silver, marked her as a child of gods and curses alike.The people whispered her name in fear and awe: Dark Side.No one dared find the courage to approach her, nor could any man be brave enough to seek her hand in marriage.It sometimes bothered her the way people looked at her or whispered strange words behind her, but she never let it stick, for she was blueblood and something in between.Her Mother, Queen Heartless, raised her in both tenderness and warning. "You are born of sorrow," she told her daughter, brushing her hair by candlelight. "But you may yet choose your path. Never let the darkness consume you, Lily. Never let grief be your only master."Heartless prayed hard that her precious treasure would live a life different from both hers and that of Evilside.Lily looked at her mother through

The storm passed. The sky cleared, painted in gold and crimson as though the heavens themselves bled. The battlefield lay silent, trees uprooted, rivers scorched dry, stone cracked, but the gods were gone. Their thrones shattered.At the heart of the ruin knelt Lily, her arms wrapped around Sayal’s still body. Her tears soaked his chest, her cries echoing through the desolation.She had won. She had broken the curse. And yet, like her mother and grandmother before her, she had lost the one she loved most.The gods were cruel; they plagued her bloodline with pain and grief. Their gifts were not a blessing, but a curse. Who could live without the one they loved?“Why?” she whispered to the sky. “Why must love always end in death?”The air stirred, carrying the scent of lilies. The blossoms of the great tree drifted down, and Evilside’s voice rose, low and mournful.“Because love is the sharpest power of all,” she said. “It defies gods, it defies time, but it cannot escape sacrifice. I l

For nine long months, Queen Death carried her child beneath a heart heavy with dread. Each sunrise brought whispers of hope from King Theron and silent prayers from her servants, but each night she woke trembling, haunted by her great-grandmother’s voice.“If it is a son, his breath shall not see the fourth spring…”Some nights she dreamt of a cradle made of roots, the soil swallowing it whole. Other nights she felt the baby’s kicks and dared to smile, whispering, “You’ll live. I’ll make sure you live.”Theron adored her all the more in those months. He would rest his hand upon her growing belly and tell stories of the world beyond Devon’s borders, of the crystal mountains, the seas that glowed under moonlight. “One day,” he said, “our child will see them all.”She smiled for him, even as her tears fell after he slept.The labor came with the breaking of a storm.Lightning split the skies, and the palace trembled. The midwives hurried through the corridors, their faces pale, their pra

Spring returned to Devon, but its warmth brought no comfort.The bells that once rang for Aurelion’s birthday were silent now, their echoes replaced by whispers and prayers. The queen, cloaked in mourning black, rarely left her chambers. Her eyes, once bright as amethyst, had grown dim, yet within her womb, new life stirred, small and defiant against the weight of sorrow.Every night, Death sat by the window, gazing toward the horizon where the mountains kissed the mist. “You will live,” she whispered, her hand over her belly. “You will live, little one. You must.”The kingdom prayed for the queen. The priests blessed the palace walls. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.Even Dark Side prayed for her daughter's sanity.But there was one who did not pray, one who only watched.From the edge of the unseen world, Evilside stood in shadow, her form half spirit, half memory. Her blossoms glowed faintly in the gloom.“She defies me again,” the goddess murmured, her voice soft as thunde