Nytherion Aetherys

The castle's great hall was magnificent. For the first time in centuries, human and elven banners shared the same space, hanging side by side on white marble pillars. Crystal chandeliers reflected the light of hundreds of candles, while long tables laden with delicacies welcomed nobles from both kingdoms.

The celebration was meant to symbolize the end of a war that had spanned generations.

But the atmosphere was far from peaceful.

Humans viewed the elves with suspicion.

Elves viewed humans as inferior creatures.

At the center of it all was the new couple.

Nytherion Aetherys, the King of the Elves.

And his new wife, the second princess of the human kingdom.

The two had barely exchanged a word since the ceremony.

She remained impeccable in her dress, maintaining the posture of a princess raised never to show weakness. Seated beside her husband, she limited herself to responding only to what was necessary, while he maintained a serene and distant expression, speaking only when etiquette demanded.

The toasts have begun.

Political speeches too.

Until a noble elven man, already altered by the wine, raised his goblet with a mocking smile.

"I admit... I expected the first human queen to at least resemble a star. No... a moonless night."

Some elves chuckled quietly.

Others simply looked away, lacking the courage to reprimand him.

On the human side, several nobles clenched their fists.

She remained motionless.

Her expression remained serene.

But on the inside...

Those words were not new.

I had heard similar comments since I was little.

That her skin was too dark.

That a princess should appear more delicate.

That his brothers were more handsome.

He had learned to face swords.

He had learned diplomacy.

He had learned strategy.

But those words still touched an old wound.

She lowered her eyes for just a moment.

Just one.

Enough time to hide the pain.

• All good.

I'm used to it.

Nytherion didn't even look at her.

The exact moment those words hit her...

The fragment of the Abyss attached to the necklace around her neck began to pulsate.

Once.

Then another one.

Beneath his clothes, the old marks scattered across his chest burned faintly, illuminating in an almost imperceptible purple glow.

A deep voice echoed in his mind.

She was injured.

His expression did not change.

His eyes remained fixed on the nobleman.

• Wound?

There was no blood.

No weapons.

No sign of attack.

The voice answered before he could even finish the thought.

— Not in your body.

The necklace's shine intensified.

The marks pulsed again.

— In your soul.

For the first time that night, Nytherion turned his eyes to the queen.

She had already regained her composure.

Chin held high.

A steady gaze.

As if absolutely nothing had happened.

But the Abyss never lied.

She was suffering.

And someone was responsible.

His chair slid slowly across the stone floor.

The entire hall fell silent.

He stood up.

His mere presence was enough to make the music stop.

The nobleman's smile vanished.

The king's voice came out low.

Controlled.

Much more frightening than a scream.

"Repeat."

The elf swallowed hard.

"M-my king... I just..."

"No."

Nytherion stepped forward.

"Repeat exactly what you said about my queen."

The silence grew as heavy as steel.

No one dared to breathe.

Up until that moment...

Everyone believed that the King of the Elves would remain indifferent.

Ultimately, it was just a political marriage.

A human.

A foreigner.

But they were wrong.

Because insulting that woman no longer meant insulting just a human princess.

She now wore the Elven Crown.

She was the Queen of the Elves.

And nobody...

Absolutely no one...

He would disrespect his queen in front of him.

Meanwhile, hidden from everyone's eyes, the necklace around his neck continued to emit a soft purple glow, satisfied that it had fulfilled its duty.

The Abyss had felt its pain.

And she had made sure that her king felt it too.