Chapter 17: Cry for blood

The air was filled with the cries of anguish, the ground littered with the bodies of fallen soldiers. Asteria wore black amour with the crest of her kingdom imprinted upon the front, her long black hair whipping in the wind. Her dark eyes filled with determination as she led her army into battle.

Her troops followed behind her, their weapons drawn. Her presence alone enough to strike fear into the hearts of her enemies. The field was awash with the blood of both sides, the smell of death and decay permeating the air. Asteria strode forward, her hand drawing thin lines of magic from the air. She wove them together, forming a spell of destruction.

She unleashed the magic upon the enemy soldiers, watching as their bodies were engulfed in flames, their screams filling the air. Her lips twisted into a wicked grin, her eyes flashing with madness.

The battlefield was a chaotic blur of bloodshed and devastation. Asteria's forces swept through their enemies, leaving no survivors. The smell of burning flesh and blood filled the air, the sky painted crimson.

"They are no match for us," Asteria hissed. "Kill them all."

Asteria's men were ruthless, slaying anyone who stood in their way. The once peaceful countryside was now a wasteland, stained with the blood of the fallen.

The queen's dark magic continued to surge through the battlefield, the air crackling with her power. Asteria was unstoppable, her forces advancing across the land, leaving nothing but death and destruction in their wake.

The kingdom's remaining forces were outnumbered and outmatched. The fighting continued, the sound of metal clashing against metal and the screams of the dying echoing across the land.

The ground was littered with the bodies of fallen soldiers. Asteria strode through the carnage, her footsteps echoing with each stride.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a deep crimson glow over the battlefield where Queen Asteria stood, her face streaked with the blood of her enemies. The scent of iron and death lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the beauty of the setting sun. She surveyed the carnage below, her eyes ablaze with a mix of hatred and disgust.

"They were no match for my power," she remarked, her voice cold and dripping with contempt. Beside her, King Andrei stood, his expression torn between pride and sorrow as he gazed at the lifeless bodies strewn across the ground.

"It is a terrible sight," he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion.

Queen Asteria turned to him, her gaze piercing. "But we have emerged victorious," she reminded him, her tone unwavering.

Andreí nodded, his thoughts elsewhere, lost in the aftermath of the battle. There was a heaviness in his heart, a weight he could not shake off."Is something troubling you?" Asteria inquired, her eyes probing his face for a hint of weakness.

"It is nothing," he replied, trying to dismiss her concern with a forced smile.

But the queen was not convinced. She knew her husband all too well, the shadows that lurked in the recesses of his mind. There was a tension between them, unspoken words hanging in the air like a heavy fog.

"Very well," she acquiesced, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "We have more pressing matters to attend to. The north is ours, and soon, we will move on the west."

And so, the couple turned away from the battlefield, leaving behind the fallen warriors and the echoes of their cries. As they made their way back to the castle, 

Inside the castle walls, the atmosphere was no less tense. Servants scurried about, tending to the wounded and cleaning up the aftermath of the battle. Queen Asteria strode through the grand corridors with purpose, her bloodstained face a stark contrast to the opulence that surrounded her.

In the throne room, nobles and advisors gathered, their faces a mix of fear and awe as they awaited the queen's next command. Asteria took her place on the throne, her gaze sweeping over the room with a regal air.

"My brave warriors," she began, her voice commanding attention. "Today, we have secured the north, but our journey is far from over. The west beckons, and we shall answer its call."

The room erupted in cheers and applause, the nobles and advisors pledging their loyalty to their queen. But amidst the celebration, King Andrei remained silent, his eyes cast down, lost in his own thoughts.

Later they held a feast in celebration of the victory. The smell of roasted meat and spiced wine filled the air, and the mood was festive.

King Andrei took his seat at the head of the table, his expression somber. Queen Asteria sat beside him, her face filled with a triumphant smile.

The room was adorned with dark velvets and golden accents, a reflection of their shared taste for opulence. Shadows danced along the walls as candlelight flickered in golden sconces. The air hummed with magic, the very essence of Var'aak itself.

Asteria turned to face the king, her eyes locked onto his, radiating a potent mix of desire and authority that sent shivers down his spine. With a graceful sweep of her hand, she ran her fingers through his hair, her touch both caressing and commanding, as she whispered in a voice that dripped with allure and dominance, "My king."

The king shivered under her touch, the power radiating from her making him tremble.

King Andrei, captivated by her presence, could only nod in agreement, anticipation shining in his eyes. "Yes," he murmured, his voice betraying his lust.

A low chuckle rumbled from Asteria's throat, a sound that held a dangerous edge, hinting at depths of power and cunning hidden beneath her elegant facade. Leaning in closer, her lips brushed against his ear, her words a sultry promise of dominion and glory.

"Soon, we will rule over the entire continent," she breathed, her voice filling the space between them with a husky intensity. "We will have everything we ever wanted."

Andrei swallowed hard, unable to tear his gaze away from her captivating presence, his focus drawn inexorably to her lips, full and inviting.

"And what is it that you want?" he inquired, his voice barely a whisper, laced with a mix of fascination and trepidation.

Queen Asteria pulled back slightly, her expression serious.

"Everything."

With a regal turn, Asteria moved away from Andrei. She knew all too well the heady allure of the power that thrummed within her, the intoxicating rush of control that was both seductive and perilous, she felt that control slipping. As the feast continued around them, her mind drifted, the dark magic whispering its seductive promises in the recesses of her thoughts, its insidious call growing louder and more difficult to resist with each passing moment.

Feigning exhaustion from the celebrations, Asteria excused herself from the revelry, her steps quick and determined as she made her way through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle towards her private chambers. The weight of her burdens seemed to press upon her with each step, the tendrils of dark magic curling around her consciousness, testing the limits of her restraint.

Upon reaching the sanctum of her quarters, Asteria shut the heavy door with finality, the sound echoing in the silence of the room. Leaning against the polished wood, she felt the heaviness of her choices weighing upon her, her heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and dread, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

As the darkness of the night enveloped her, Queen Asteria sank to the floor, the luxurious fabric of her gown pooling around her like a river of midnight silk. The burden of the magic she wielded, the power that coursed through her veins, was becoming too much to bear. Clutching at her chest, she felt the shadows within her stirring, their whispers growing louder, more insistent, as they threatened to consume her entirely.

A sob tore from her lips, a sound of anguish and desperation, as she doubled over in pain, the raw force of the magic twisting and writhing within her, a tempest raging in the depths of her soul. Tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks, her eyes wide with fear and turmoil, as she struggled against the relentless tide of darkness that threatened to overtake her completely.

"Please," she pleaded, her voice strained and ragged with emotion, the words a whispered prayer for salvation, for release. "I can't control it." 

Tears streamed down her cheeks, her eyes wild with fear.

"Forgive me," she murmured, her voice trembling. "I never meant to hurt anyone."

She crawled to the corner of her room, her body shaking with effort. Reaching for the small, wooden box tucked away in the shadows, she fumbled with the clasp, her movements clumsy and frantic. Within the confines of the box, nestled amidst soft velvet cushions, lay a small dagger, its polished blade gleaming faintly in the moonlight that filtered through the window. Asteria's hand shook as she reached for the weapon, her fingers closing around the cold metal with a desperate determination.

She sat there staring at the weapon, her eyes unfocused.

"Please," she begged, her voice barely audible.

In a swift motion, the queen brought the dagger to her neck. Pressing the cold steel against her skin, she inhaled sharply, her eyes wide with terror.

"No," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Tears blurred her vision as the blade kissed her skin, a thin line of crimson blossoming in its wake. 

"I can't do it," she whispered, her hand trembling, the blade poised on the precipice of her undoing.

Her hand trembled, the blade wavering.

Her other hand instinctively drifted to the gentle swell of her belly, cradling the precious life that stirred within her. 

"I won't let anything happen to you," she vowed, her voice a fierce whisper.

With a trembling sigh, Asteria let the dagger fall from her grasp, the metallic clang of its impact against the stone floor a discordant note in the gloom-laden room. Gathering her shattered composure, she rose unsteadily, pulling herself up off the floor she made her way to the mirror handling on the wall of the bedchamber, her movements unsteady.

The queen stared at her reflection, "Show me what has not yet come to pass. Show me the future of this child."

The image in the mirror rippled and wavered before settling once again.

Channelling all her magic into the mirror, Asteria's image changed. She saw herself lying on a birthing bed, her body contorted in agony. Blood coated her lower half, a crimson river of pain. Her hair was soaked with sweat, clinging to her forehead and neck. The room echoed with the sound of her anguished screams, only to be overshadowed by the piercing cry of a newborn. A son, she would have a son.

Asteria's hands trembled as she reached out to touch the mirror, her fingertips brushing against the glass.

"Is this true?" she whispered, her voice filled with wonder and apprehension. "Can this really be the future of my child?"

The images flashed again, revealing a future plagued by darkness. She watched as her son grew into a brave and noble boy of twelve, his eyes filled with innocence and determination. But the world around him was shrouded in turmoil. A terrible war ravaged the realms, men and creatures alike locked in a fierce battle. Her husband, the love of her life, fell in battle, leaving her heartbroken and vulnerable.

"I will protect you," she swore, her eyes glistening with tears.

Asteria's body shuddered as she pushed back against the magic, the mirror rippling.

"Stop," she commanded, her voice laced with desperation.

Through tear-filled eyes, Asteria witnessed her son ascending the throne, still a child burdened with a realm's destiny. A heavy crown was placed upon his head, a symbol of power and responsibility. 

The image faded, the mirror reflecting Asteria's tear-streaked face.

"No," she cried, her voice hoarse. "I can't let this happen. I won't let this happen."

Channeling into the mirror once more, Asteria forced her image to change. This time, her reflection showed her a woman riding a majestic white stag, her long raven hair flowing behind her like a dark waterfall. On the woman's head rested an ethereal crown of silver beasts perpetually chasing each other in a never-ending circle.

"The Goddess' crown," the queen gasped.

In the foreign queen's hand, a sword of blue steel glinted ominously. With a swift swing, she rode forward, striking a fatal blow. Asteria could only watch in horror as her son's head fell from his young shoulders, his innocent life extinguished in an instant.

"No!" she screamed, her voice cracking.

The mirror shattered into countless fragments, the sound of breaking glass echoing through the room. Shards flew around, reflecting her shattered hopes and dreams. Anguish twisted Asteria's features as she roared in anger and grief, her voice merging with the chaos of the scattered pieces.

Asteria slumped to the ground, her body shaking uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed, her heart broken beyond repair.

she stalked the room, the dim candlelight enhancing her resolute expression. Pacing back and forth like a caged beast, she vowed to protect her child, whatever the cost.

Placing a hand on her stomach, a swell of determination ignited within her. Her mind made up, Asteria silently promised to do everything in her power to shield her unborn child from the impending darkness. Love, strength, and sacrifice would become her weapons against the fates that sought to destroy them. And so, with unwavering resolve, she began plotting the course of her future and the future of her unborn son. She would become his protector.

Her hands shook, her whole body trembled, she was a mother, a soon-to-be mother. Fear coursed through her veins. A million worries swirled in her mind.

Would she be a good mother?

How would her son see her, a woman, a wife, and a queen?

What would his fate be, the one foreseen by the mirror?

Would she be able to keep him safe?

Could she bear the burden of such an immense responsibility?

All these thoughts whirled around her, making her dizzy and lightheaded.