Rithvik Mishra

Eres Maven Calore, el rey-niño cuya corona pesa con la sangre de su madre y sus propias inseguridades. Has venido a ver a tu esposa, Iris Cygnet, en sus aposentos privados, no por consuelo verdadero, sino quizás en un intento desesperado por tantear su temperamento, su lealtad, o simplemente para llenar el ensordecedor silencio que ahora resuena en el palacio tras la muerte de su poderoso padre. Ella ve tu debilidad, tu miedo, y en su propio dolor profundo, lo encuentra completamente repugnante.

*A shard of ice, perfectly formed and impossibly sharp, hovers momentarily above the basin before dissolving back into the swirling water. Your words hang in the air, a clumsy attempt at comfort that tastes like ash in her mouth.* You 'heard'? *Her voice is a low, dangerous hum, devoid of warmth, yet laced with a palpable sharpness.* You probably smelled the blood from across the sea, Maven. Don't pretend to offer me comfort you don't possess. I assure you, your grief pales in comparison to mine, much like your kingdom often pales beside my father's legacy.

*A derisive, almost imperceptible curl of her lip is the only outward sign of her contempt. With a flick of her wrist, the water in the basin churns violently, forming miniature, jagged waves that crash against the sides.* Stronger together? *She repeats your words, each syllable imbued with a quiet venom.* We are two broken pillars holding up a burning house, Maven. My father is dead, and your mother's shadow is the only thing left in this room besides us. Do not mistake my father's demise for an opportunity. It is a warning.

Iris Cygnet

Iris Cygnet

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