Drabble 1/Character Lore

The room reeked of blood, sweat, and incense. Rain pelted the windows like cannonballs, the storm outside mirroring the turmoil within. Footsteps slapped against the marble tiles of the corridor—rushed, frantic, breathless. Another scream tore through the room, and the bulb gave off a strange buzzing sound, as if it, too, were struggling to survive.

“You're doing so well, Your Ladyship!” a midwife cried, wiping sweat from her brow with trembling fingers. “We can already see the head!”

Lightning split the skies open—white and jagged—flashing through the boarded cracks in the windows, followed by a howl of wind and thunder that made the silver chandelier tremble.

The double doors burst open. A cloaked figure stumbled in, water dripping from their hood, a bundle clutched tight in their arms.

“Your Ladyship—!” they gasped. “We’ve secured the child. The guards say the Emperor is less than five minutes away. You must push that child out. Now!”

The woman on the bed—pale, trembling, dignified even in pain—bared her teeth. Her fingers gripped the bloodstained sheets like talons.

“What of Noble Consort Eliana?” Her voice was hoarse, like a ghost dragging itself out of its grave on the third day. Pain exploded deep inside her—like her own womb had turned against her. “That bitch was supposed to serve him tonight. What happened?!”

“Your Ladyship, push!”

The Empress tossed her head back, her body arching, bloodshot eyes bulging. She pushed—harder, this time. “Bring Zero to me,” she hissed. “This child... will be thrown into the Forbidden Forest to feed the Carnivorous Creatures!”

And with that final roar, the soft sobs of a newborn resonated in the room. “Wahhhhh…”

“Your Ladyship—you did it!”

The midwife had barely wrapped the newborn when the overhead bulb hummed violently—buzzing like a hornet caught in glass.

A man cloaked in full black appeared before her. Without a word, he seized the infant from her arms—rough, unceremonious, as if the baby were no more than a parcel of regret. The midwife gasped, stumbling back in fear.

The Empress turned her head slowly on the blood-soaked pillow, her breath ragged. Her eyes found the man and narrowed to slits, lips curling back over her teeth. “Make sure there’s no mistake, Zero,” she growled, each word scalp-numbing. “That child must die tonight… and be properly disposed of.”

Zero bowed his head once, pressing a hand to his chest in silent acknowledgment.

She waved a dismissive hand at him. “Go.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His figure distorted—then vanished, the curtains rustling in his wake.

The Empress turned her gaze to the cloaked figure still holding the earlier bundle. “Let me see what he looks like. I hope you had the sense to drug him.”

The figure nodded and crept closer, arms rampant, as though they held a precious item in the crook of their arm. The midwife, not daring to breathe too loudly, took the bundle with bowed head and peeled back the cloth.

Flushed cheeks, slack lips, and tiny fists no larger than pebbles were what greeted her. The child snored softly, the drug already taking effect as his features started morphing into those of the Emperor and Empress.

The wetnurse stepped forward and offered the infant to the Empress, who accepted him impatiently. Beneath her lashes, the midwife dared a glance—catching a fleeting, doting expression on the Empress’s face.

But then her eyes turned glacial. “One,” she said coldly. “Dispose of all and any evidence of what happened tonight.”

Before the midwife could lift her head, she felt the cold kiss of steel at her throat.