A Mysterious Warning

The royal hall was bathed in dim, golden light, the flicker of torches casting long, dancing shadows across the towering walls. Argider sat at the head of the table, her chin propped on one hand, while her three wives flanked her. The atmosphere was tense, crackling with unspoken friction, as the messenger stood before them, cloaked in shadow. Their voice was calm yet cold, like a winter breeze that carried the promise of a storm.

"A grave threat approaches your palace," the messenger intoned, their hooded figure almost blending into the shadows. "And it comes from within."

The words hung heavy in the air, sinking like stones into a pool. Argider felt the weight of them settle in her chest, but it was her wives who broke the silence.

"This is absurd," Esmeralda said, folding her arms with a huff. "I'm sure this so-called 'threat' is just Faeralys plotting to look more dependable. She's always trying to outshine me."