[ONGOING: New Chapters Every Sunday]
Kingsblade. Rise of the Raven Queen.
Her kingdom is in ashes.
She's supposed to save it, but there's one problem.
She doesn't remember she's the queen.
She doesn't remember anything at all.
With war looming on...
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Liliana pulled her tousled mop of hair from its leather tie and folded back the stiff sheets of her bed. Gingerly, she removed her long, weathered leather vest and then sat on the bed to remove her tall red-brown boots. As she stretched to peel off her sweat-soaked soaks, the soreness in the small of her back from her wound in battle returned. She wrinkled her nose as she stared at the two lopsided rolls at her bedside; she really shouldn't put off laundry any longer. Her sword bounced against her thigh from its place on her belt.
Nearly forgot to take it off, she thought, rubbing her eyes.
Liliana traced the thick, worn seams that held her cream tunic together with her eyes. Stains from sweat and battle covered it as well as nicks and bare patches from many years of use. She sighed and didn't even bother to remove the stiff corset she had worn during the battle the day before nor the thin layer of chain mail that lay beneath her tunic. She, like the night previous, was unable to make her wearied limbs obey her.
She was afraid if she kept it up for much longer, she wouldn't be able to fall asleep without them both: chain mail and smelly corsets.
Adeniyi's words from years before echoed in her ears:"I do not envy the poor man who will be your husband."
Liliana grinned despite herself as she remembered her reply. "Oh, I don't think you'll have to worry about anyone ever wanting to marry me."
Adeniyi never had said anything else on the subject.
Outside, the wind whined and moaned as it swept around the cornices of the Hold. But beneath that, Liliana heard an unearthly cry. One of wailing and sobbing. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up; dread crept into her bones. Then, they came.
Shadows crept through her room like little wisps of a bad dream only these stalked their prey in the waking world.
The young woman slammed her eyes shut as her mouth went as dry as cotton and dread twisted its way up from her stomach to her throat.
Not again.
"This Sight is more of a curse than it is a blessing," she growled, shooting an angry glance toward her stone ceiling. "You hear that, Elindir? Your gift is dumb. You can take it back."
The world around her shifted and warped. The meager candlelight flickering from her nightstand bent and bowed as shadows poured in and pooled on her floor.
Why couldn't she control it? This was her Sight after all, wasn't it? She was the one who could walk in both the spiritual and physical realm. Surely it wasn't allowed to walk in on her?
Shaking, she snatched her sword from its sheath and pointed it toward the shadows. "Who are you?" Her voice caught as a scream rose up in her chest. No. She would be brave. "What do you want?"
Above everything else, she heard maniacal laughter grating over her ears. The shadows thickened around her, swirling around her legs and bare feet. Another scream—more shrill and deafening than before—sent the shadows fleeting back into the corners of the room. Her arms trembled as the sound of someone dragging chains across her floor reached her ears, and the shadowy shapes of the undead tugged along great iron links. One caught on the edge of her bed and tugged it slightly forward before it disappeared.
