Chapter 11: The Empress' Wrath
Night had fallen over the capital, draping the empire in an eerie stillness. The streets beyond the palace walls were alive with hushed murmurs—whispers of doubt, fear, and rebellion.
Seraphina stood at her balcony, gazing down at the city below. A storm brewed within her, rage simmering beneath her calm exterior. They questioned her rule. They plotted behind her back.
Fools.
She turned as Rhys entered the chamber, his expression unreadable. "It's done," he said. "Your personal guard is ready."
Seraphina nodded. "Good. It's time I remind them who their Empress truly is."
She swept past him, her midnight-black cloak trailing behind her as she descended through the palace corridors. A line of elite guards awaited her at the entrance—loyal, unyielding, handpicked for this moment.
Rhys fell into step beside her. "Where are we going first?"
"The noble district." Her voice was cold, determined. "There are men who need a reminder of their place."
The streets were unusually quiet for the hour, but the tension in the air was palpable. It wasn't fear of the night that kept people indoors—it was fear of her.
Her presence had spread like wildfire. They knew. They sensed something was coming.
She and her guards moved like shadows, their steps swift and silent. The destination was clear—Lord Cedric's estate.
The man had dared to challenge her in court today. He had spoken too freely, his confidence a dangerous thing.
She would strip it from him.
As they arrived at the grand estate, the guards stationed at the gates stiffened. Their hands hovered over their weapons, unsure whether to draw them or bow.
Seraphina did not give them a choice.
With a flick of her wrist, the air around her shifted. The torches lining the entrance flickered unnaturally, their flames twisting as though pulled by unseen hands. The very wind seemed to bow to her presence.
The guards stepped back, eyes wide.
"Open the gates," she commanded.
They hesitated for only a second before scrambling to obey.
Inside, the estate was lavish, decorated with golden chandeliers and intricate tapestries. Servants cowered in the halls as Seraphina strode through, her very presence suffocating.
It did not take long for Lord Cedric to appear, dressed in his evening robes, his face a mask of barely concealed shock.
"Y-Your Majesty—"
"You speak as though I am still your Empress," Seraphina interrupted, her voice smooth, but sharp as a blade. "Strange, considering you spent the entire day plotting my downfall."
Cedric's face paled. "I… I merely voiced concerns—"
Seraphina tilted her head, her golden eyes gleaming with an unspoken promise of retribution. "Concerns?" she echoed. "Tell me, my dear Lord Cedric, do concerns include whispering my brother's name as an alternative to my rule?"
The man visibly flinched.
She stepped closer. "You have two choices," she said softly. "Swear fealty to me—publicly, without question, without hesitation. Or…"
The air grew heavy. The flames of the chandeliers trembled, casting wild shadows across the room.
Cedric swallowed hard. His hands trembled as he fell to one knee. "I-I swear fealty, Your Majesty. I have always been loyal to the throne."
Seraphina smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
"Good," she whispered.
Then she turned on her heel and strode away, her cloak billowing behind her.
Tonight, the noble houses would learn what it meant to defy her.
And tomorrow, the empire would know true fear.