Chapter 2: Whispers in the Wind
The celebration lasted for days.
In every street of Delhelm, lights flickered long into the night. Music echoed from towers and rooftops. The return of King Isen and Queen Ivy had breathed new life into a kingdom that had waited in silence for too long.
But joy can sometimes be a thin veil over something darker.
And in the quiet corners of Delhelm, shadows were stirring.
---
The sun was just beginning to rise when Aiden slipped out of his chambers.
He wandered through the dew-covered palace gardens, chasing butterflies and soft laughter from the previous night still ringing in his ears. He followed the curved stone path toward the old greenhouse, drawn by a gentle glow behind the glass.
Inside, ivy vines wrapped along every beam. Forgotten flowers bloomed in silence.
But something was… strange.
He stepped closer to the center and found a withered rose, dark purple and crackling with a faint, unnatural energy. The petals were stiff. The stem oozed black liquid.
Aiden reached for it.
"Don't touch that."
He froze.
Behind him stood Orien, eyes sharp, hand on his sword.
Aiden stepped back. "What is it?"
Orien approached, crouching by the flower. He didn't touch it either. "That's no natural decay… This plant is infected. With something I don't recognize."
"Magic?"
Orien's brow furrowed. "Maybe. Or maybe something worse."
---
Later that day, inside the palace, Queen Ivy walked through the infirmary wing with a soft smile. She had come to check on the people. But what she found made her steps slow.
Dozens of beds filled the corridor.
And on them—people coughing, sweating, trembling.
Eyes bloodshot.
Skin turning pale.
Some—unconscious.
The healers were working, but even they looked weary. One of them, a young woman named Elia, turned to Ivy with desperation in her voice.
"It's spreading," she whispered. "We don't know how."
Ivy's smile vanished. "What is it?"
Elia shook her head. "It started in the eastern market. First a fever… then the coughing. Now even children are falling ill. We've never seen anything like it, Your Grace."
Ivy's hand went to her necklace.
Her thoughts raced.
Could this be what she saw in her dream?
A burning kingdom… people crying… smoke choking the skies.
---
In the war room that night, Isen, Ivy, Tenley, and Orien stood around the ancient stone table, the map of Delhelm glowing faintly beneath their hands.
"A sickness," Ivy said, her voice steady. "It's not just in the city. Reports are coming in from nearby villages."
"Symptoms?" asked Tenley, arms crossed.
"Fever. Cough. Fatigue. Fainting. The healers don't know what it is—or how to cure it."
Orien nodded grimly. "Aiden found a black-veined flower in the greenhouse this morning. Magic residue, but twisted. It might be connected."
Isen stared at the table, the weight pressing down on his shoulders.
"This isn't just illness," he muttered. "It feels like something sent."
Tenley narrowed her eyes. "A curse?"
"Or worse," Ivy whispered.
They looked at each other in silence.
They had faced battles. Monsters. Evil kings.
But this…
This was quiet. Invisible. Deadly.
---
That night, Ivy woke in a cold sweat.
She gasped, clutching her chest. Her dream had returned—only clearer.
She saw the city burning. People fleeing. A child—Aiden—coughing as black mist wrapped around him. In the center of it all stood a masked figure… tall, cloaked in shadows, watching from the spires of the palace.
Watching her.
"Ivy?"
Isen stirred beside her.
She turned to him, eyes wide. "It's starting."
And outside, in the streets of Delhelm, a second child collapsed beside a lantern stall.
His mother screamed.
And no one saw the black mist rising from his mouth.