Sin
The queen’s transformation was silent—a ripple of magic that shimmered through the dim light. Droplets trickled down her armor, her eyes hollow and staring at her son’s body.
His eye, dull with exhaustion, locked onto Oliver, whose faint sobs echoed through the room like a dirge.
The one she thought might be a brother she never had.
They watched as she crouched down, running her fingers through Gideon’s dark hair. Max opened his mouth, grimacing at the reminder he couldn’t speak.
Max, Sin said softly into his mind.
He whipped his head over, meeting her gaze with a serious expression.
Can you hear me now? She added.
His eye watered. I can.
Sin’s heart pounded as she heard his mental voice for the first time in what felt like forever—I can hear you.
Tears blurred her vision as the barriers between them shattered.
What was that?
I don’t care.
Neither did Sin when his lips met hers. She reached her hand up to cup his cheek, but forgot how brutalized his skin was when he winced.
She pulled back, but he grabbed her hand and kept it there.
It wasn’t a deep, passionate, disrespectful kiss considering their audience. But it was firm, an unyielding promise.
You’re really here.
We’re here. And I’m never leaving your side.
He broke the kiss, eyeing her with something intense. As if my little blade has a choice? You are mine, Sin. I won’t lose you again. Not to them, not to anyone..
She smiled broadly at his possessiveness, threading her fingers through his hand, and immediately, the reality of the room sunk their happiness underwater.
The queen’s hands trembled as they reached for Gideon’s body, her breath hitching in a strangled sob that echoed through the cold halls. Her face twisted—a blend of rage, sorrow, and desperation—as she hesitated, unable to bear the weight of her child, even in death.
Max struggled for her, but Oliver held his hand up and aided her. Despite his own pain, Oliver moved to carry Gideon’s body, his face set with determination as silent tears traced paths through the grime on his cheeks.
Sin wasn’t certain if she was believing what she was seeing, but that didn’t warrant forgiveness.
The Queen straightened, ready to lead the way when serpentine soldiers filled the hall. When they stepped out of the cell, they lined up, creating a path for her, for them, the queen stood there frozen, clenching her fists like she was mentally preparing for this walk she never wanted to make.
Soldiers wiped their blades and raised them, forming a tunnel. She took the first step, and her shoulders shook with sadness for the preview to the funeral’s walk, and march to the throne.
The soldiers at the end left their positions to aid Sin and Max to walk, but one hand reached for Sin, and Max was snarling viciously. Though he could barely stand himself, he refused for anyone else but him to help her.
Sin rolled her eyes at Max’s stubborn growl, but a pang of warmth twisted in her chest. Even now, weakened and barely able to stand, he still tried to protect her.
They hobbled through, and one slip through the blood had a soldier helping Sin, ignoring Max’s growls.
“Thank you,” Sin said softly to her, and gave Max a look of warning.
The silence of the castle was suffocating, broken only by the whispered prayers of those hoping for mercy and the slick, unsettling squelch of blood beneath their feet.
Even the kingdom’s soldiers who kneeled, surrounded by serpentine soldiers standing guard around them, were silently waiting for their fate to be decided.
The queen halted as her gaze found them, dozens of them gathered together, staring at the floor in her presence.
She looked to the officer stepping towards her.
“Your highness, the soldiers you see gathered here, they aided in the escort bravely. We wished to leave their fate to you.”
She walked right past him, not caring about any of that. Not when she had a dead son being carried behind her.
He bowed at her retreating form.
They continued to lead a path for them, for her, all the way to the throne room.
In between the soldiers surrounding them, Sin could see the floor was a patchwork of death—limbs twisted at unnatural angles, faces frozen in expressions of terror.
The stench of decay mixed with blood hung thick in the air, clinging to Sin’s senses as she stepped through the remnants of the fallen, their vacant eyes staring into oblivion.
The Iostrian serpentine soldiers stood motionless, but their eyes seemed to glimmer with an unnatural light—almost reptilian, as if something ancient and cold lurked beneath their helmets.
Sin shivered, feeling the castle around her, the very stones beneath her feet, pulse in time with the queen’s labored breaths, as if the fortress itself had been brought back to life under her rule.
As they approached the throne, the silence grew heavier. So many what ifs and what nows lingering in their minds.
The queen paused before the dais, her eyes fixed on the throne that once symbolized power and authority, now a seat of grief and vengeance.
She stood before the throne, staring at it silently before she turned around, facing the people pouring into the room.
Everyone silently waited for whatever she was about to say or do.
A few of the other king’s witches rushed in with cots and supplies, and just like that, the throne room turned into a sanatorium.
“You,” the queen called, pointing at the witch who was directing the others. “Come here.”
A soldier led her forward. She shivered violently, her eyes darting around the room as if looking for a way out. She swallowed hard, her throat visibly tightening, and when her gaze finally met the queen’s bloodstained face, her body seemed to shrink into itself.
“What is your name?”
The girl stammered, “R-Raven.”
Silence thickened as the queen just stared at her, and Sin realized why.
The queen simply raised her brows at the girl, and she crumbled.
“We… we had no choice,” Raven trembled, stammered, her voice barely a whisper.
She dared to look at the queen before glancing away.
“Ursula promised us freedom, but…” the mention of her name had gasps echoing.
“But those of us who resisted were… spelled into silence. Our minds were not our own when they willed it.”
“And who are they?” the queen commanded.
“Jocelyn and Audrira.”
The queen’s gaze bore into Jocelyn’s as she asked Raven, “And were you one of those who resisted?” The words were simple, but the weight behind them demanded absolute truth.
Sin knew she wasn’t the one in power here, but she couldn’t help the step she took towards Jocelyn, as if to protect her, Max forced to hobble with her.
Raven swallowed hard. “Yes, and I was punished for it greatly, also being forced to do whatever they wanted.”
“And what was that?” the queen asked, uncaring about whatever punishment it was that she received.
Her voice broke as she continued, “We… we were to use magic that would lead Sin to the library, to a tome that would call to her and consume her soul.”
She looked down, her lips quivering with fear.
Queen Ecythis muttered an order for her to help with the injured, still staring at Jocelyn as Raven scurried away.
“Jocelyn also stopped me from opening that tome,” Sin said.
“All that tells me is she has no loyalty. What do I do with someone like that?” Silence stretched as Ecythis and Joscelyn held each other’s stare.
“I need her,” Sin said, unable to stand the silence a moment longer.
“You need her watched at all times. Like an uncivilized dog, if I dare let her live,” the Queen countered.
Sin swallowed hard. “If I am to help build this new rule with you,” Sin dared say, finally gaining the full attention of the Queen. Silently reminding her who helped her out of her cage. The only reason she will now sit on the throne.
“What are you doing?” Max asked Sin mind to mind.
Sin ignored him as she pressed on. “Then you will want the unity and power. And all free witches on your side.” Sin let the unspoken words speak for themselves, that all witches would be freed. “You’ll need an allied coven.”
Pride and understanding flooded the bond. Ecythis turned to face Jocelyn. Who still stood stone faced as she awaited her fate.
“You,” the Queen practically snarled. “Will be under Sin’s charge. Alive and where I don’t have to deal with you or look at your face. And if you betray us?”
The Queen didn’t have to finish the threat as the truth of it sank in—what fate would be hers, the same as that of the kings.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Jocelyn breathed a relieved exhale as she said those words.
Ecythis never looked at her again when she turned away. Facing the now silent room.
“Today,” the queen’s voice echoed across the throne room, cold and unforgiving, “the people of this land will decide what kind of queen I will become.” Her eyes swept over the crowd, each person shrinking under her gaze.
“Shall I be your trusted ruler, or your tyrant?” A ripple of fear passed through them, audible in the gulps and shifting feet of those who dared not meet her eyes.
One of the Iostrian soldiers appeared beside her, draping a bloodred regalia across her shoulders. The queen ascended the dais, each step deliberate, her now bloodstained robes trailing behind her like a scarlet river.
She paused for a breath, the world holding still as her fingers grazed the armrest of the throne.
Then, with a slow, inexorable grace, she lowered herself into the seat, her eyes never leaving the people before her.
The room seemed to contract around her as if the throne itself was drawing in the light, leaving only her figure—commanding, unyielding.
To Sin, it was as though the throne itself had swallowed her whole—accepting her rage, her grief, and transforming it into an aura that seemed to darken the entire room. The air thickened, heavy with the silent acknowledgment of her rule—a rule forged in death and blood.