6. Prolouge

“The feast is ready, and the ritual,” a servent informed, “It will begin once you’re ready.”

She nodded her head before gesturing him to leave. She glanced over at the baby with his face, stained with filth and blood, for one last time before slamming the door shut.

A smile graced her lips immediately as she looked at the feast spread in front of her. It was a grand banquet to commemorate the historical event - The Fall of the King. Yes, she defeated the King, alone. Without his queen, Kris was almost too powerless. It didn't take long before she took the highly-desired realm of the empire.

“You’re here, my-”

“Spare the formalities,” she spat at their obvious hypocrisy.

If she had not overthrown the kingdom, none of them would respect her, let alone bowing their heads in front of her now. Times were different now; she was the undefeated one.

“We shall begin now,” she commanded. 

Her eyes fell on an exquisite plate, and her gaze softened instantly. 

“Is that it?” She frowned, brows knitted together.

“Yes,” a man confirmed her suspicion.

As he presented the dish in front of her, she tensed up unconsciously.

“Begin the ritual,” he declared.

The men started chanting loudly, as she took a sip of her favourite red wine to clear first. The meat was sliced into smaller pieces of cubes. She placed one of them into . The first bite was tasteless, but the second bite was revolting. She almost threw up, as she felt the scales that lingered on her tongue. That after taste was unbearable. Nonetheless, she swallowed them, completely against her will. Then again, did she even have a choice? She needed it, badly.  

She remembered looking at his descendant. To be exact, their sole descendant. The last heir of the fallen King. The evidence of the love between Kris and Seohyun. She had cruelly scratched his flawless face with her sharp fingernails, that was painted in pitch-black, until blood began to appear from the open wound that she had created. She chuckled at the mere sight of the crimson-red liquid oozing out slowly.

But as soon as she heard the deafening cries of the baby, a frown crept up her face. She hated those cries; those helpless cries that she, as the undefeated, once had. She hated the weak, and even so, she hated her weaknesses. 

What a crybaby, she scoffed.

She took one last bite of the ‘delicacy’ before taking another sip from the glass. She wiped the red liquid that was dripping from , and she didn't exactly know if it was the wine or was it Kris’s fresh blood. 

At last, the ritual was finally over. 

“Long live, Your Majesty.”

Immortality was now hers.