The Damned Decree...

The castle, still shrouded in the heavy air of grief, witnessed the swift transformation of the kingdom under King Aldric's mourning rule. The echoes of the Queen's tragedy lingered in every stone corridor as the grieving king, consumed by anger and sorrow, sought retribution for his loss.

In the grand hall, adorned with banners bearing the royal crest, King Aldric addressed the courtiers, nobles, and assembled guards. His voice, once commanding yet kind, now bore the weight of grief and rage.

"I decree a creation for an Order of Witch Hunters is needed! All who join, know it is an honourable and necessary role!" The king's proclamation reverberated through the hall, cutting through the sombre atmosphere. "The Order of Witch Hunters shall track down and eliminate every witch that plagues our realm! No magic shall persist in harming this kingdom any further!"

Cersie, the princess with fiery hair and eyes of ocean blue, stood amidst the courtiers, her gaze meeting her father's with a mixture of disbelief and defiance. The words hung in the air, a dark cloud over the once proud castle.

"Father, you cannot condemn an entire group for the failure of one!" Cersie's voice rang out, her eyes ablaze with determination.

The king's stern expression betrayed the turmoil within. "Silence, Cersie! You know not the pain that magic has brought upon this family. It has cost me your mother and your unborn brother. The witches will pay for their treachery!"

"But not all witches are responsible, Father! The witch who attended Mother's birthing tried to help. She wasn't the cause!" Cersie begged her father, but her pleas only fell on deaf ears.

King Aldric's face hardened, and his eyes narrowed. "Enough! I will not hear any defense of those who wield dark powers, especially from my own daughter! The Order of Witch Hunters will bring justice to this land."

The courtiers shifted uncomfortably, sensing the rising tension between father and daughter.

Unable to contain her frustration, Cersie spoke with defiance. "Father, this is pure madness! You're condemning innocent people. What about their families? What about their children? Where is the justice in that?!" A tear fell down Cercie's face. "I understand that your grieving but so am I! She was my mother!"

The king's patience wore thin. "Cersie, you test my patience. This is my decree, and you will respect it."

A tense silence hung in the hall as father and daughter locked eyes in a battle of wills. The courtiers exchanged uneasy glances, aware of the rift tearing through the royal family.

"You leave me no choice, Father." Cersie's voice wavered between defiance and sorrow. "I- I cannot stand by and watch the innocent suffer for crimes they did not commit."

King Aldric's anger flared, and with a wave of his hand, he pointed towards the exit. "Leave, Cersie. Go to your room. I will not tolerate your dissent in my court."

Cersie, her eyes never leaving her father's, turned and walked away, her steps heavy with the weight of a kingdom divided. The grand doors closed behind her, shutting out the murmurs of the courtiers and the stern decree that hung over the castle like a storm cloud.

Alone in her room, Cersie stared out of the window, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

"What do you hope to achieve, Father?" Cersie whispered to herself, her reflection in the glass mirroring the turmoil within.

In the quiet solitude of her room, the sounds of the castle took on a sinister undertone. Beyond the stone walls, the rhythmic clang of blacksmiths forging new weapons resonated like a dark symphony, a prelude to the impending hunt. The air was thick with the scent of molten metal, a sharp contrast to the once-familiar fragrance of the royal gardens.

Cersie's eyes wandered to a display case in the corner of her room, housing the symbol of her father's authority and grief, the king and queen's crown. Crafted with meticulous detail, they both bore the weight of responsibility and loss. The jewels embedded in the golden circlets sparkled, reflecting the dim light of the chamber, and each intricate carving told a story of a kingdom in turmoil.

The castle that was once a symbol of unity and strength, now echoed with the footsteps of witch hunters preparing for a dark crusade.