The Mage Queen Book 1: The Princess

Erkalla hated being disabled.

But she couldn't help but wryly smile at the reason why she ended up in the wheelchair. The damage Anastacia dealt to her was something that even her own magic couldn't keep up with. The magic that made her feared, immortal, and gained her title the "Dark Knight" was nothing in the face of Anastacia's magic. And all it took, was that one emotional outburst to burn her skin all the way to her nerves.

She could only imagine what would happen if Anastacia became fully aware of her power and became self-actualized.

It took her a few days to get the feeling back in her fingers. Now, each twitch of her finger sent a slight itch that even resting it on a pillow made her want to claw them all off. She grunted in annoyance while staring out the window.

"Her magic... that confirms everything," Erkalla muttered. "That kind of magic and density isn't usually found in today's magoi."

She fought a lot of magoi over the years and only a few had that kind of magical density and affinity to White Magic. But Anastacia's had an extra element to it. It wasn't just purifying but imposing. Anything that it deemed a contradiction or evil was to be destroyed. As the memory of Anastacia's power flashed through her mind, she shuddered.

"I haven't felt that close to Death in 400 years," Erkalla chuckled darkly and looked at her burned hand. She smirked. "But now I know..."

Suddenly, she heard a rapping on the door. "It's open."

The door creaked open as the healers stood aside to reveal Queen Regina.

"Erkalla." She smiled.

Erkalla bowed her head. "Your Majesty." She gestured to her wheelchair. "My apologies for my lack of a proper curtsy."

"No need. I understand. The damage done to you was quite extensive."

She chuckled. "Yeah, I am quite surprised that the princess was capable of such."

Queen Regina sat in front of her, beckoning her lady-in-waiting. "Would you like some tea?"

"Do you have Ginger Tea?"

"Ah a preference for strong flavor."

"She practically burned me through all the way to my tastebuds. The only thing I can taste is that Deusforsaken ginger."

"Ah, right" —Queen Regina nodded to her lady-in-waiting who curtsied— "My apologies for my lack of knowledge of the extent your injuries."

Erkalla snickered. "It's alright. I just eat what I can. I've lived on dried bread crumbs and rocks before."

A frown marred the queen's features. "Surely, you jest."

"I wish I was especially with the question I'm about to ask you."

"Oh?"

"How long have you known?"

The queen raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"How long have you known?" Erkalla repeated.

Erkalla noticed the queen pale as she sighed. When the lady-in-waiting came back, the queen whispered something to her. The lady-in-waiting curtsied before ushering the healers out with her. Once they were out of the room, Queen Regina exhaled sharply. She clasped her fair hands together and matched Erkalla's icy blue eyes with her stormy grey ones.

"For years. It's not easy to hide," the queen replied.

Erkalla stiffly nodded. "Were they aware?"

"Of course. They insisted."

"How long did they intend to keep up the charade?"

The queen sighed and shook her head sadly. "I don't know."

That means they were really planning to keep it up, Erkalla thought as she bit her lip. At first, she had her suspicions. The change had not only been too abrupt but too difficult to mask. Although the change was welcomed by many, very few knew of what had truly happened.

"My last command from the queen and king before they passed was to protect the princess no matter what." Erkalla gripped the armrest of her wheelchair. "So who am I supposed to protect from whom?"

Queen Regina sighed. "That's a question that even I wished I had the answer to."

Her stomach lurched as the Stormcleaver landed. Anastacia gulped. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she stood in front of the exit of the ship. She stared at the door as her feet remained glued to the floor. When she reached out for the door, her arm began to tremble. Was she really ready for this?

Someone then held her arm to stop it from trembling. She looked down to see Rowen smiling.

"We made a pinky promise," he beamed.

Anastacia's heart calmed down at his innocent smile. "Yes, we did."

Suddenly, Marick emerged from the hallway. "Alright" — he slung his gunblades on— "you ready?"

She nodded.

The three of them reached out for the door and slid it open. Anastacia squinted as the shining sunbeams stung her eyes. She raised her hand to cover her eyes and stepped out, wincing as something sharp pierced the soles of her flats. Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she lowered her hand only to have a desolate and dilapidated sight of the once glorious city to greet her.

Her heart sank at the empty city square. The fountain had dried up so much that the algae from the moisture permanently painted the white stone black. Even the statues of Sofiene's animal, the five-clawed owl, had cracks and suffered erosion with time. The paint of the houses had paled from neglect with the wrought iron grills of their gates rusting over. Stone pillars stood, partially shattered with much debris littering the streets. Although she never really left the castle, Anastacia could only imagine how much life the city square once had.

"Told you the place was a mess," Marick said as he walked up beside her.

Anastacia nodded.

"We can't stay too long. The moment the sun begins to drop, we go."

"Yes." She nodded numbly. "Let us make haste to the citadel then."

She clenched her hands into fists and walked through the streets. Each corner she saw greeted her with a bloodstained view with skeletons decorating the lawns. She fought the urge to vomit, immediately looking away when she saw a small skeleton lying on the ground. Her mind swirled at the sight of the cobwebs and her head felt light. She shook her head and massaged her temple, trying to focus on the fading sounds of her feet crushing the bloodstained debris under them.

"This is awful," she murmured. "How could anyone be capable of this kind of cruelty?"

Ghostly childish laughter filled her ears, causing her to whip around. She heard running and faint giggling all around her as children began to run through the street. She smiled at the sight until something hot licked her skin. She looked forward only to see the whole city consumed in a large fire and the laughter now drowned out bloodcurdling screams and the howling inferno. Her heart raced and her palms became sweaty. She stopped walking and her throat dried up to the point she could do nothing but croak.

"Ana!" Someone dragged her out of her daze.

She whipped around and prepared to slap the one who called her only to see Rowen looking at her with concern. Anastacia also felt a tight grip on her wrist and saw Marick holding her hand.

"Take it easy. Breathe," said Marick. "Spacing out and reminiscing isn't going to help" — he let go of her hand— "just keep walking."

Anastacia nodded and quickened her walking, ignoring all the buildings. Marick was right. She came here for answers and her spacing out was wasting precious daylight. Although ghostly waves of laughter and screams filled her ears, she strode past them and closing her eyes.

"My apologies but I must find out how things happened before I can address your pleas," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. Please wait for me..."

At the end of the town square, she found herself in front of the citadel's entrance. The torn banners bearing Sofiene's insignia were a dead giveaway. Her eyes began to water but she wiped them away.

"I am here now," Anastacia said. "I need to find out what happened."

But where to start?

"So, where do you want to start?" Marick asked, rolling up his sleeves. "Place looks like a Behemoth rampaged through it."

Rowen nodded. "How about the libraries or the bedrooms? People always find stuff there."

Anastacia pondered for a moment. Standing in the foyer of the citadel brought a wave of nostalgia. It was a place once lit by a glowing chandelier and filled with the scent of freshly picked lavender Asters. She smiled sadly at the sight of the dried-up ones, wilting in the cracked vase.

No time to reminisce, Anastacia shook her head. "Let's check my room."

With the pirates following behind her, Anastacia went up the stairs. The three walked through the silent hallway with only the cracking of the mosaic shards being the only source of the sound. She quickened her pace until she found the door marked by an Aster. Her hand hovered over the wooden carving for a moment. Dread filled her as she let her hand rest on the doorknob.

"Alright," Anastacia breathed.

She opened the door to her room, coughing as the dust invaded her nose. The creaking of the wood caused her stomach to knot up and the sight of the destroyed room did nothing to soothe her anxiety.

Anastacia ventured deeper into the room and stood on top of the dusty rug. Dust suddenly fell on her head and caused her to snap her head up towards a gaping hole. There was a chandelier once, she thought.

She walked towards her desk and brushed the dark red dust off the white marble. Anastacia sniffed her fingers only to have a metallic smell assail her. She snorted it out and shook her head.

"I don't like the smell of this place," Rowen said. "It smells."

"Smells nothing, Sprout. It reeks of blood," Marick grumbled. He turned to Anastacia. "The Abyss happened here?"

Anastacia exhaled. "This was where I was supposed to die if not for Erkalla."

"You mean the angry little woman who was with you?"

She nodded.

"Why didn't you bring her then?"

"She didn't want me to come here."

Rowen drummed his fingers on his chin. "Doesn't that mean she's hiding something?"

Anastacia nodded. "Quite obviously. The only question is what. She never reacted violently with the other questions."

"Must be that nasty for her to lose her marbles," Marick said. "Though, I might have an idea as to what it is..."

Puzzled, the princess saw Marick looking behind the curtain that had fallen over the tapestry. "Like what?"

He then drew the curtain aside. "Something maybe the royal family didn't want to tell you."

Tears formed in Anastacia's eyes when she saw the tapestry on the wall. She stretched her hand out and traced the frayed threads that struggled to hold the image of her face together. However, something caught her eye when she found dye on the tapestry on her fingers.

"Marick? Carpet dye should not come off easily, yes?" Anastacia asked.

Marick nodded. "That it doesn't. Why?"

She showed him her fingers. "Someone dyed the painting recently."

"Well, well, looks like we found a lead." Marick pulled out his gunblade. "You might want to step back."

Anastacia stepped back and let Marick shoot a stream of water towards the tapestry. As the dye washed off, Anastacia paled at the sight. Why would they hide something like that from her?

What was hidden under the dye was an image of a little girl who looked exactly like her.