Chapter 87: The Lingering Curse**
The heavy silence in the Queen’s chamber was shattered by the soft gasp of Princess Imogen.
“She’s awake…”
Lucian’s head snapped toward the bed. His mother, Queen Elara, blinked against the dim candlelight, her lashes fluttering as she stirred from her long slumber. Relief flooded the room like a breaking dawn.
“Mother,” Lucian whispered, stepping forward.
Elara’s tired eyes focused on him, and a slow, weak smile curved her lips. “My son…” Her voice was hoarse, but warmth filled her tone.
Lucian sank onto the edge of the bed, grasping her frail hand. His sisters, Imogen and Isabella, hurried to her side, both trembling with emotion.
Seraphina watched silently, standing near the doorway.
Elara’s gaze eventually drifted to her. A flicker of something unreadable passed over the Queen’s face before she exhaled softly.
“Seraphina.”
Seraphina stepped forward, hesitantly at first, but as she met the Queen’s gentle expression, some of her tension eased.
“You are back.” Elara’s voice held certainty, as if she had never doubted it.
Seraphina gave a small nod. “I am.”
Elara’s fingers tightened around Lucian’s. “I knew she would return.” Her gaze remained locked on Seraphina, eyes filled with an understanding Seraphina wasn’t sure she deserved.
A lump formed in her throat. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”
“You are here now,” Elara murmured, then, after a brief pause, her expression shifted.
“The King…”
Lucian stiffened, his grip tightening. His voice was quiet, heavy. “He’s gone, Mother.”
Elara closed her eyes for a long moment. The weight of those words settled heavily on her, but when she opened them again, her resolve was unwavering.
“Take me to him.”
Lucian hesitated. “Mother, you’re still weak—”
“Please.” The quiet plea in her voice made the room still.
Lucian exhaled slowly, then nodded.
Seraphina remained silent as they helped Queen Elara out of bed, draping a thick robe around her shoulders. A part of her wanted to refuse the request—to shield Elara from the sight of the lifeless King—but she also understood.
She would not be able to rest until she saw him.
And neither would Seraphina.
\---
\### **The King’s Resting Chamber**
The moment Seraphina stepped inside, a chill ran down her spine.
The air was thick, *wrong*. The torches burned lower than they should, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls. The room smelled of incense, but beneath it, something bitter and unnatural clung to the air.
Dark magic.
She didn’t even have to say it aloud. She *felt* it.
Her fingers twitched. Magic thrummed beneath her skin, reacting to the sinister presence in the room.
Lucian and his sisters walked ahead, their attention focused on the covered body at the center of the chamber.
Queen Elara inhaled sharply as she neared the bed, where the King’s still form lay beneath a heavy silk shroud.
“My love…” she whispered.
Lucian placed a steadying hand on her back.
Seraphina took a slow step forward, her unease growing with every breath. The shadows in the corners of the chamber seemed to stretch unnaturally, curling like tendrils of unseen forces.
And then—
She heard it.
A whisper.
No—*laughter*.
It was faint at first, like an echo carried through the walls, but it was there.
Mocking. Sinister.
Seraphina’s heart pounded. She turned sharply, scanning the room, but the royal family noticed nothing.
Her hands curled into fists. *Something is here.*
Taking a breath, she strode toward the King’s body.
The laughter grew louder.
Seraphina ignored it.
Her fingers reached out to touch the King’s covered hand—
Pain.
White-hot pain shot through her fingertips, searing up her arm like fire.
She gasped and recoiled, clutching her hand as a burn mark formed across her palm. The pain wasn’t physical—it was deeper, like something had attacked her very essence.
Lucian turned at once. “Seraphina?”
Seraphina staggered back, staring at the King’s body in shock. The laughter around her twisted into a low, guttural growl.
“Dark magic,” she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s here.”
The room tensed.
“What?” Isabella’s face paled.
Seraphina forced herself to stand straight, her breath uneven. “There’s something—*someone*—lingering over his body. Something that shouldn’t be here.”
Lucian’s expression darkened. He reached for his sword out of instinct, even though a blade would be useless against what they were facing.
Queen Elara’s voice was steady, though grief lined her face. “What kind of magic, Seraphina?”
Seraphina looked down at her burned palm, then back at the King.
“The kind that doesn’t want him to rest.”
The weight of those words sank into the room.
Isabella let out a shuddering breath. “You mean… someone cursed him? *Even after death?*”
Seraphina nodded. “And it’s still here.”
Another pulse of energy rippled through the air.
This time, the others *felt* it.
Lucian’s grip on his sword tightened. Elara inhaled sharply. The twins clutched each other.
Seraphina turned to the shadows, her magic humming as she prepared for whatever was lurking.
Then—
A voice.
Low, distorted, filled with amusement.
“You shouldn’t have come back, little witch.”
Seraphina’s breath hitched.
The air grew colder. The torches flickered again, casting eerie movements against the walls.
Lucian stepped closer to her. “Who is that?”
The voice chuckled. “You already know.”
Seraphina’s lips parted. *The Dark Shaman.*
He wasn’t here physically—no, this was something else. A *remnant* of his power, something left behind to keep his presence lingering in the palace.
She swallowed, forcing her voice to remain calm. “What do you want?”
The laughter faded.
And then—
“I already have it.”
A chill ran down Seraphina’s spine.
The torches flickered once more—then *snapped* out completely.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Lucian moved on instinct, pulling Seraphina behind him while Imogen and Isabella gasped.
“Elara!” Lucian’s voice was sharp.
“I’m fine,” the Queen’s voice responded, though it was laced with fear.
Seraphina’s heart pounded. She stretched out her senses, searching through the darkness.
The laughter was gone.
The presence had vanished.
But the damage was done.
When the torches finally reignited, Seraphina turned back toward the King’s body.
The burn on her palm throbbed.
The royal family stood in tense silence, eyes darting toward her for answers.
Seraphina exhaled, voice quiet but certain.
“This isn’t over.”
Lucian nodded grimly. “No, it’s not.”
Queen Elara reached out, brushing trembling fingers against the King’s covered chest. A tear slid down her cheek.
“We must put him to rest,” she whispered.
Seraphina clenched her fists.
Not yet.
Not until she uncovered what had truly been done to him.
The Dark Shaman had left something behind.
And whatever it was—
It was still waiting.
\-