Chapter 92: A Price Too High**
The palace was in turmoil.
Word of what had happened in the throne room spread like wildfire. Servants whispered in hushed voices, guards exchanged uneasy glances, and the royal family was left in shock.
Seraphina had collapsed.
Lucian stood frozen outside her chamber, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands trembled at his sides, clenched into tight fists. The moment he had heard the news, a cold dread had taken hold of him, sinking into his bones like ice.
Seraphina…
She had used her magic to rid the king’s corpse of the dark energy, despite knowing the cost. Despite knowing that every time she wielded her power, it stole away pieces of her life.
And now she lay motionless.
The physician emerged from her room, his face grim. Lucian stepped forward immediately, his throat dry.
“How is she?” His voice was sharp, urgent.
The physician hesitated. “She’s stable, Your Highness, but weak. Her body has been severely drained. If she continues like this, there is no telling how much time she has left.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened. He had only just learned the truth—about what magic did to her, about how much she was sacrificing.
And it filled him with rage.
Not at her, but at *everything.*
At the gods who had cursed her with such a gift. At the Origin Relic that held the key to her salvation, yet offered no clear answers. At himself, for letting this happen.
He stormed into her chamber.
Seraphina lay on the bed, her face pale, her breathing shallow. Her silver hair, once radiant, was now tangled against the pillows.
Lucian sank into the chair beside her, his fingers twitching as he fought the urge to touch her, to shake her awake.
“You stubborn fool,” he muttered under his breath. “Why would you do this?”
The room was silent, save for the faint crackling of the fireplace.
Lucian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t care about the council, or the throne, or even the kingdom at this moment.
He just wanted her to wake up.
\---
The royal family gathered outside Seraphina’s chamber, whispering amongst themselves. Queen Elara stood with a hand over her chest, her eyes filled with worry.
“She knew… she *knew* that using her magic would harm her,” the Queen whispered.
Princess Imogen frowned. “And she still did it anyway.”
“She wanted Father to rest in peace,” Isabella added, her voice laced with guilt. “Even if it cost her.”
Queen Elara wiped her eyes, a rare show of emotion. “Lucian must be devastated.”
Ava, who had been standing nearby, crossed her arms. She had no words to offer, though a tiny smirk threatened to appear on her lips.
Seraphina was weak.
Lucian was worried about her.
This was the perfect opportunity to solidify her place as his wife.
\---
Days passed, and Seraphina remained unconscious.
Lucian barely left her side. The council called for meetings, nobles offered their condolences, and preparations for the king’s burial continued—but Lucian only focused on Seraphina.
It wasn’t until Ava finally forced her way into his study that he turned his attention elsewhere.
“You can’t keep ignoring your duties, *husband*.”
Lucian shot her a glare. “Leave.”
Ava stepped closer instead, her red gown flowing around her. “You haven’t touched me since our marriage, Lucian. Do you even acknowledge me as your wife?”
Lucian scoffed, his patience thinning. “Do not test me, Ava.”
“I *am* your wife,” she pressed, reaching out to touch his arm. “You have a duty to—”
Lucian grabbed her wrist before she could lay a hand on him. His grip was firm, his eyes dark with contempt.
“My duty?” His voice was low, dangerous. “The only duty I regret is allowing this farce of a marriage to happen.”
Ava flinched.
Lucian let go of her wrist and turned away. “Get out.”
She clenched her fists, seething. But she knew better than to push him further.
For now.
\---
The day of the burial arrived.
A grand procession was held in honor of the fallen king. The kingdom of eldoria gathered to mourn, their heads bowed as the ceremony commenced.
Lucian stood before his father’s casket, dressed in dark royal attire, his expression unreadable. He felt… *empty.*
His father was gone. His kingdom was in turmoil. And Seraphina, the one person who had fought to give the king peace, was still unconscious.
The burial proceeded as tradition dictated. The royal priests chanted prayers, and the elders spoke of the king’s reign. The people wept.
But Lucian?
He only felt numb.
As the ceremony came to an end, he turned his gaze toward the palace.
Toward Seraphina’s chamber.
*Wake up, Seraphina.*
*Please.*
\---
That night, as the palace settled into uneasy silence, Lucian sat by Seraphina’s bedside once more.
The candles flickered, casting soft golden light over her face. He watched her, studying every fragile detail—her closed eyelids, her parted lips, her slow, steady breaths.
Then—
A faint whisper.
“...Lucian?”
Lucian’s heart nearly stopped.
His eyes snapped to her face as her eyelids fluttered weakly.
“Seraphina?” His voice was rough, disbelieving.
Her lips moved again, barely a breath.
He leaned in, desperate to hear.
Then, just as her eyes slowly began to open—
She exhaled sharply and coughed violently, her entire body trembling.
Lucian panicked. “Seraphina—!”
She gagged—her back arching as she coughed harder, spitting dark liquid onto the sheets.
The royal physicians, alerted by the noise, rushed in at once.
Lucian watched, horror-stricken, as she continued to choke on the remnants of the dark magic that had nearly consumed her.
Her sacrifice had come at a cost.
And Lucian was terrified of how high that price would be.
\---