Chapter Six: The Rise of a Kingdom

Chapter Six: The Rise of a Kingdom

The battlefield had gone silent. House Merridan was no more.

Annabelle stood atop the highest tower of Black Hollow, the corrupted bow Leeching Horror resting in her grip. The people gathered below, their faces illuminated by torchlight. These were not warriors. They were farmers, traders, artisans, and scholars—ordinary people who had been abandoned by the king, overtaxed, left to suffer.

No more.

She raised her hand, and silence fell.

"This is no longer a village," she declared, her voice echoing across the square. "This is a kingdom. And you are no longer subjects to a weak and gluttonous king—you are the people of my nation."

Murmurs of uncertainty rippled through the crowd.

Then she spoke the words that would define her rule.

"You will not be ruled by fear. You will not suffer while nobles grow fat off your labor. You will have a voice."

The murmurs turned to cheers.

For the first time, Annabelle was not just a warlock, not just a conqueror.

She was a queen.

Annabelle wasted no time.

She formed a council—not of nobles, but of the people themselves. Merchants, blacksmiths, healers, scholars, and warriors were given a seat at the table. The laws of Black Hollow were written, not in the blood of the oppressed, but with the ink of those who would shape its future.

She personally ensured that food, shelter, and protection were available to all. Those who had once feared her now worshipped her.

She was not human. She was something more.

And yet, Victor still saw her.

Late one evening, as she stood overlooking her growing kingdom, Victor approached.

"I thought you'd be afraid of me by now," she mused without turning.

Victor stepped beside her, his eyes unwavering. "You think I fear you?"

She smirked, glancing down at him. She was taller now, towering over him, her horns casting jagged shadows across the walls.

"You should."

Victor shook his head. "I don't. I never have."

Silence stretched between them.

Then, with steady resolve, he took her clawed hand in his.

Annabelle stiffened. She had crushed the life out of men with that very hand. And yet, Victor held it as if she were still human.

"I love you," he said, his voice firm. "I don't care what you've become. You are Annabelle. You are my queen. And I will stand by you until the end."

For the first time in years, Annabelle had no words.

Then, she pulled him close, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Then stay by my side. Always."

Days later, riders arrived.

Not soldiers. Not mercenaries.

Her former house.

Annabelle stood on the steps of her throne as they entered, flanked by shadow demons. The nobles who had cast her out now stood before her, expecting death.

Instead, she smiled.

"Tell your king," she said, "that I will spare you. You have done me a great service."

The noble in front hesitated. "Service?"

Annabelle's grin widened. "You made me strong."

She let them leave.

The only ones she would ever spare.

And with that, she sent a final message to the kingdom:

Black Hollow was no longer just a rebellion. It was an empire. And war was coming.