The pale body of Queen Vesania submerged into the warm, flower-scented water of her luxurious bath. Around her, vibrant tapestries adorned the walls, creating an atmosphere of opulence that contrasted with the relentless cold radiating from her being. Her face, immutable, serene, and distant, mirrored the essence of the city she ruled: austere and ruthless.

While her young lovers attended to her in reverent silence, the Queen observed the city from a large window. Candlelight danced across her flawless face, casting shadows on her delicate cheeks. From that high vantage point, she gazed at the empty streets and the overcast sky with an inscrutable expression, as if the vastness of Eret was merely a game board under her icy gaze.

One of her lovers, a young woman with golden hair and fearful eyes, shivered at the cold air seeping through the open windows.

"Your Majesty, the wind... it feels different today."

The Queen, without looking away from the city, responded in a cold tone that left no room for doubt.

"The wind is just wind. It has no power to change anything. Only the weak fear it."

To the Queen, power was everything. Weakness, in any form, was something she despised and would not tolerate in her presence.

---

Dozens of meters below ground, in the depths of the palace, a group of nobles known as "The Crows" conspired in secret. Tired of Vesania's tyranny and the oppression she wielded over Eret, they had been forging a coup for months to overthrow her. This night, they saw the unsettling wind disturbing the city as a sign that the moment had come. In a dark, damp hall within the catacombs, covered in faded banners of fallen houses, the leaders of the rebellion discussed the final details.

At the head of the group was Lord Ravon, a man with steely eyes and an imposing presence, whose demeanor commanded a charged silence of obedience and tension in the shadows. His meticulously crafted plans paid homage to the ancient gods of Eret. Like incarnate shadows, the nobles in the room whispered in low chants, renewing vows of revenge and loyalty to an ancient power—one that, according to legend, awakened bloodthirsty whenever the city's stability hung by a thread.

"Tonight will mark the end of Vesania and her reign of shadows," Ravon said firmly, his eyes gleaming with an almost feverish intensity as he scanned the faces of the other nobles. "Today, Eret's story will change forever. We will not rest until the Queen falls and her name becomes a forgotten echo."

Beside him, Lady Seraphine, a woman with hair black as night and eyes as sharp as her tongue, flashed a cold smile, nodding slowly, her thoughts as sharp as the hidden blades beneath her dark cloak.

"Let us not forget that underestimating her would be the worst of mistakes," she whispered, her words resonating in the damp stone walls. "Vesania is cunning… and more dangerous than many here can imagine."

"Cunning, yes," murmured Lord Orson, a man bent with age but whose gaze had not lost its defiant spark. "But her thirst for power has blinded her. Tonight, the Queen will discover that, in the shadows, thorns as sharp as her cruelty grow."

Ravon remained silent for a moment, observing the fire in his comrades' eyes. He knew they were all on the edge of their own decisions, driven by accumulated rage and the promise of freedom.

"Listen well," he added, raising his voice to capture their full attention. "There is no turning back. Once our men cross the palace gates, Eret’s fate will be sealed. Tonight, our loyalty is not to ourselves or our fallen houses but to the promise of a liberated city."

With a decisive gesture, Ravon extended his hand, and the other nobles took it one by one, sealing a silent pact. The Crows, like shadows, scattered in different directions, each with a clear and precise mission.

As Seraphine slipped into the shadows, she cast one last glance at Ravon, with a spark of challenge and complicity.

"For Eret… and for all that we have lost," she murmured before disappearing into the darkness.

And so, the echo of their footsteps faded in the catacombs, while above, in the palace, Queen Vesania remained, still unaware that the night had chosen to turn against her.

In her chamber, the Queen sat before a gilded mirror. Her fine and elegant hands slowly ran an ivory comb through her lustrous blonde hair. She regarded her reflection with cold satisfaction. In her mind, she was the embodiment of absolute power, an untouchable figure, and the idea of anyone daring to challenge her seemed as absurd as the wind now battering against the windows.

However, beyond the Queen’s sight, something was brewing in the palace’s darkest corners. The Crows had infiltrated guard posts, poisoning loyalty with promises of freedom and a new dawn. One by one, the soldiers who had served the Queen for years found themselves questioning their devotion, wondering if their fear of the Queen was stronger than their desire to live in a free city.

Lord Ravon and the woman with black hair, Lady Seraphine, stopped before an iron door that had remained shut for decades. It was a secret entrance known only to the ancients, one that would lead them directly to the base of the Queen’s tower. Ravon looked at Seraphine, and she nodded with a cold glint in her eyes. Without a word, Ravon pushed the heavy door, which opened with an ancient creak, revealing a spiral staircase ascending into darkness.

Meanwhile, in the city, citizens, unaware of the unfolding plans, began to notice the strange force of the wind. Windows were closed more firmly, and fires were lit to ward off the unusual chill that had settled in the air.

Back in the tower, the Queen felt an unexpected shiver. She set the comb down on the table and frowned as an uneasy sensation took hold of her. Something in the air, beyond the wind, whispered to her that she wasn’t as safe as she thought. Her cold, calculating eyes narrowed as her thoughts turned darker. With a decisive gesture, she rose and called for her personal guards, but only the echo of her voice replied.

The Crows cautiously ascended the spiral staircase leading to the Queen’s chamber, the sound of their footsteps drowned by the roar of the wind battering the tower. The group of conspirators moved with determination, confident that the end of the reign of terror was only a few steps away. Lord Ravon and Lady Seraphine, at the front of the small procession, exchanged a look of resolve. The door to the Queen’s chamber was near, and the thrill of imminent victory shone in their eyes.

But as they turned the final curve of the staircase, the group came to an abrupt halt. Before them, in the middle of the torch-lit corridor, stood a man, perfectly still. Darkness seemed to envelop him, but the matte black armor he wore stood out clearly in the dim glow of the flames. The knight stood between them and the Queen, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

Lord Ravon frowned. He raised a hand for the others to stop as he observed the knight warily.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

The knight did not respond immediately. Instead, he took a step forward, causing his armor to emit a soft creak. His gaze, mostly hidden behind the mask covering his face, moved first to Ravon and then to Seraphine. There was no emotion in his stance, only a cold determination.

"You don’t have to die tonight," the knight finally said, his deep voice void of any trace of doubt. "Go back the way you came."

Lady Seraphine let out a dry laugh, incredulous at the suggestion. She stepped forward, holding her dagger firmly.

"And what makes you think you can stop us on your own?" she replied with a tone full of disdain.

The knight did not move. Instead of answering with words, he drew his sword in a fluid motion, letting the black blade gleam faintly under the torchlight. The metallic sound of steel cut through the corridor’s silence.

Feeling the situation turn dangerous, Ravon gripped his sword hilt tightly and glanced at Seraphine out of the corner of his eye.

Without further warning, the black knight advanced swiftly toward them. The fight was swift and ruthless. Ravon drew his sword just in time to block the first strike, but the force of the impact pushed him back. Seraphine attempted to flank the knight, but he spun with inhuman speed, intercepting her attack with a precision that left her momentarily stunned.

Ravon launched a direct thrust, but the knight dodged with a sidestep, and with a swift counter, disarmed the leader of the Crows. Ravon’s sword clattered to the ground. Before he could recover, the knight struck him in the chest with the pommel of his sword, sending him against the wall.

Seraphine took advantage of the knight’s distraction and lunged at him with her dagger raised. He, with an almost dismissive ease, raised a hand and caught her neck with lethal precision, lifting her off the ground as if she weighed nothing. Seraphine’s fingers released the dagger, which fell with a dull sound. The knight held her suspended in the air for a moment, his unyielding gaze locked onto hers. Then, with a smooth and forceful motion, he pushed her back, making her stumble and fall to her knees, coughing as she struggled to regain her breath.

With both conspirators disarmed and vulnerable at his feet, the knight observed them in impenetrable silence. His breathing remained calm, measured, as if the fight had been nothing more than mild amusement. The cold indifference in his gaze made it clear he found no worthy challenge in them, as if they were mere shadows in his path.

Before he could deliver the final blow, the chamber door opened. The Queen stepped out, draped in a royal cloak that billowed in the wind blowing through the corridors. She observed the scene before her, with the defeated Crows at her feet and the black knight standing among them.

"So, you have come after all," the Queen said in a low, calm voice as her gaze met that of the knight.

The knight slowly lowered his sword, bowing his head in a gesture of respect.

"I have fulfilled my duty, Majesty," he responded, with the same coldness he had shown in battle. "Eret needs a strong ruler. I will not let it fall into the hands of traitors."

The Queen offered a smile that died before reaching her eyes.

"What I need is loyalty," she said, stepping toward him as she gently brushed her fingers across the man’s face. "And it seems you are more loyal than I thought."

"Take these traitors away and imprison them," the Queen commanded, her voice returning to that of an unyielding sovereign. "We will deal with them later."

The knight nodded, and without another word, he dragged Ravon and Seraphine into the tower’s darkness, as the wind howled with a force that seemed to want to tear down the very walls of the palace.