"Ha ha ha ha!"
Rylsia laughed heartily, her voice echoing off the stone walls of her chamber as she twirled with glee. Her dark robes swirled around her ankles, her feet barely touching the ground as she danced with wild delight.
What the entire kingdom believed—that Celia had struck her own father—was, in truth, her doing. And no one suspected a thing.
She stopped spinning and shook her head in disbelief at how perfectly everything had gone.
"Fools," she muttered under her breath. "All of them."
Still smiling, she walked to the edge of her bed and pulled out a dark, cracked mirror wrapped in red velvet. Sitting down, she placed it on her lap and whispered an incantation in a language long forgotten. The mirror's surface rippled like water, then stilled to reveal a pale, stern face—Alsyria, her older sister and co-conspirator.
Rylsia grinned and leaned closer to the mirror.
"Yes! I gave that brat king a fatal blow to the head. I'm sure by now he's dead!"
Alsyria didn't smile. Her expression remained cold and unreadable.
"Yeah... good job," she replied flatly.
Rylsia pouted. "Come on, Alsyria. At least pretend to be excited."
Alsyria raised an eyebrow. "Celebration can come later. We move to Step Two."
Rylsia nodded slowly, her lips curling into a wicked smile.
"Without a king, the continent will be in chaos," Alsyria continued. "It will be easier to burn it all and rebuild it under our command. But listen—killing the king is not enough. You must wipe out everyone who carries royal blood. If they have no heir, they'll have no hope."
This time, Alsyria smiled. Not with joy—but with hunger.
Rylsia leaned back against her pillows, folding her arms.
"Don't worry. I've already started planning that part. But you should've seen their faces when the king collapsed! Especially Celia's."
She chuckled.
"That brat still thinks she did it."
Alsyria narrowed her eyes.
"Speaking of which, how did you even get access to the training ground? It's heavily guarded."
Rylsia grinned.
"Simple. While everyone was focused on breakfast and morning routines, I cast a wind-cloaking spell and slipped into the royal training grounds unnoticed. Celia was scheduled to spar with the king that day—how convenient. I just needed to wait for the right moment."
She stood up and began reenacting the moment.
"When she swung her sword, I released a compressed gust of wind laced with dark magic. It hit the king right in the head at the exact moment her blade touched his arm. No one saw me. No one even knew I was there."
She laughed again.
"It was flawless. They all saw Celia holding the sword, they all saw the king fall—and they assumed she did it. Even the doctor believed it."
Alsyria finally gave a nod of approval.
"Clever. Let them destroy her spirit while we destroy the rest."
Rylsia's smile faded slightly.
"And what about Dylria?"
Alsyria's face turned serious.
"She's dangerous. She senses things others can't like wind magical powers. Watch her closely. If she starts suspecting anything... deal with her."
Rylsia nodded, the weight of the next steps settling on her shoulders.
"Understood. I'll make sure she sees what I want her to see."
The mirror darkened as the connection faded. Rylsia placed it gently back under the bed and looked toward the window. Outside, the kingdom continued on, blind to the shadows growing within.
She whispered to herself,
"Let the world mourn its king... while we prepare to rule it."