Chapter 15

The Serpent’s Mark

☕ Support the story → ko-fi.com/cielomilo

Join the Circle of Firstlight 💫

The great halls of the palace felt colder now.
It wasn’t just the winter creeping in — it was something else. Something darker, slithering unseen through corridors lined with gold.

The air smelled faintly of candle wax and iron, of silence held too long.
Every servant who bowed did so a little too quickly. Every noble’s smile lingered a heartbeat too long.

And Aurelia De Claire-Von Salastian, Queen of the Realm, could feel it in her bones — fear had returned to her court.

Two days after General Rhys’s death, his funeral was held at dawn.
Snowflakes fell like ashes over the courtyard as Aurelia watched his casket lowered into the earth.

He had been one of her father’s knights — loyal to House De Claire since before she was born.
And now, his blood soaked into the soil beneath her crown.

Kairos stood beside her, silent. The wind caught his cloak, the faint scars on his cheek visible beneath the hood.
Neither spoke. Words would have felt too small, too fragile.

When the last hymn faded, Aurelia placed a white camellia upon the grave — a flower of mourning and truth.

“I will find who did this,” she whispered.

Kairos heard her — though she hadn’t meant for him to.
“I know you will,” he said quietly. “And I’ll make sure you’re not alone when you do.”

Back in the palace, the investigation had grown desperate.
Dozens of servants had been questioned. Records cross-checked. Passages sealed.
But the trail was elusive. Every clue led to another dead end, another empty corridor.

Until Kairos found something in the old library.

A hidden drawer beneath the ledgers of royal correspondence — sealed with wax, the crest almost rubbed away.
Inside was a single folded parchment, yellowed with age.

When he opened it, the words made his stomach twist.

“To my loyal servant —
Continue what we began. When the time comes, strike from within.
The blood of De Claire must end for the empire to rise anew.”

And below the signature…
A mark in black ink — shaped like a serpent coiled around a crown.

That evening, Aurelia read the letter three times before she spoke.
Her voice was soft, but it trembled. “This handwriting… it’s identical to my father’s old advisor — Lord Verrien.”

Kairos frowned. “Verrien was executed before your coronation.”

“Exactly,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Which means whoever wrote this carries his seal and his secrets. And perhaps… his cause.”

Her fingers tightened around the letter until it crumpled.
“He once whispered that our family had grown weak — that peace was the death of power. I thought those were just words of a bitter man, but…”

Kairos stepped closer. “You think his followers still live.”

“I think his poison never left this palace.”

They worked through the night, tracing every servant, every noble, every correspondence linked to Verrien’s name.
One stood out — a steward who had once served under him.
He had disappeared years ago… then reappeared as a clerk within Aurelia’s treasury.

His name: Lucen Maris.

The following day, Aurelia walked into the treasury with Kairos at her side.
The hall was quiet, save for the scratching of quills and the turning of ledgers.

Lucen stood near the far desk — an unassuming man with ink-stained fingers and kind, weary eyes.

When Aurelia approached, he bowed deeply. “Your Majesty. I wasn’t expecting—”

“Spare the formalities,” she said coolly. “Tell me, Steward Maris, how long have you served this palace?”

“Ten years, Majesty,” he said evenly. “Since the last years of your father’s reign.”

“Ah,” she said, feigning thoughtfulness. “Then you must have known Lord Verrien well.”

Lucen’s quill froze mid-air.
He smiled faintly, too quickly. “Only in passing, Majesty. I was but a servant then.”

“Yet your records show you joined his household before the rebellion,” Kairos interjected. “And that you were promoted after his death.”

Lucen’s smile faltered. His hands trembled ever so slightly.

Aurelia stepped closer, her voice low, calm — dangerous.
“Tell me, Lucen. Do you recognize this seal?”

She placed the parchment before him — the serpent coiled around the crown.

Lucen’s face drained of color.
For a heartbeat, the room went utterly silent.

Then he bolted.

“Kairos!”

Before the word fully left her lips, Kairos was already in motion — vaulting over the desk, sword flashing in the dim light.
The other clerks screamed and scattered as the steward fled down the corridor, papers flying like panicked birds.

Aurelia followed, her heart pounding. The chase echoed through the marble halls — boots against stone, the clang of doors flung open.

Lucen reached the lower stairs, but Kairos caught him by the collar, slamming him against the wall.

The steward gasped, a dagger slipping from his sleeve. Kairos kicked it away, his blade pressing against the man’s throat.

“Talk,” he growled. “Who sent you?”

Lucen laughed — a brittle, broken sound. “You think this ends with me?”

Aurelia approached slowly, her expression unreadable.
“You betrayed your king. You conspired against your queen. For what? Power? Money?”

Lucen’s eyes flicked toward her — and in that moment, something feral glinted there.
“For salvation,” he hissed. “You think your family brought peace, but all you’ve done is chain this kingdom in weakness. The serpent will rise again — from within your own bloodline.”

Before Kairos could stop him, Lucen bit down — hard — on something hidden between his teeth.
He convulsed once. Twice.
Then went still.

Poison.

The silence afterward was deafening.

Aurelia stood frozen, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Kairos swore under his breath, lowering the body gently to the ground.

When he looked at her, his voice was quiet. “He meant it. Someone else is still out there.”

Aurelia nodded slowly, her throat tight. “And now we know where to look.”

“Where?”

She met his eyes — and the weight in her voice made his stomach drop.

“He said within my bloodline.”

That night, Aurelia stood alone before the mirror in her chamber.
Her reflection stared back — the crown heavy upon her head, her eyes dark with exhaustion.

She remembered her mother’s voice, soft and steady: “The crown will never destroy you, Aurelia — only what you hide from yourself.”

And now, she wondered… what had her family hidden?

What secret, buried in the blood of De Claire and Von Salastian, could still bring ruin to them all?

Outside, thunder rolled across the skies.
And far below, in the city’s old catacombs, a figure cloaked in shadow lit a single candle — pressing their hand against the same serpent seal.

“The time is near,” they whispered. “The Queen’s blood will open the gate.”