Death

"I can show you a picture of her," Ian said quickly, still catching his breath.

He grabbed the backpack and yanked open the zip. He put his hands inside and he found the power bank. His phone had been dead, no surprise. He plugged it in fast, waited, thumb hovering over the screen as it booted up.

The queen stared at the device with narrow, unblinking eyes.

The moment the screen came alive, glowing with its soft light, she actually took a step back. Like it startled her. Her eyes darted across the surface of the phone as Ian swiped it open and tapped on his gallery.

"Here," he said, holding it up so she could see. "That's her. Clara. My grandmother."

On the screen, a photo taken in warm lighting. Clara sat in her living room, her silver hair tied up in a bun, glasses low on her nose, a soft smile curling the corners of her lips. She wore the same necklace Ian had just been wearing. The same emblem.

The queen's expression changed completely, she stared.

It was like all the color drained from her face at once. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her breath hitched.

Ian saw it immediately. "You... you know her."

She said nothing, still staring. Ian stepped forward slowly, cautiously. "You've seen her before. Haven't you?"

The queen didn't answer, she didn't nod either. Just stunned look on her face, a memory? A realization?

Ian's heart started to race for a different reason now. "How do you know her?" he asked. But she didn't answer

The queen's hands dropped to her sides, her fingers limp, the necklace still hanging loosely in one hand. Her lips moved as if to speak, but no words came out. Just breath. Uneven. Shaken.

And Ian... Ian had no idea what the hell was going on. He didn't press her anymore.

She looked like she was spiraling in a storm of her own memories, memories he couldn't begin to understand. He just stood there, watching her. Breathing lightly. For a moment, the silence between them stretched too long, but he didn't dare interrupt it. Something about this felt strange to him.

After what felt like minutes, she finally moved. Her eyes blinked slowly, like someone waking from a strange, painful dream. Her fingers curled tighter around the necklace. Then she looked at him again, and this time, there was no fury in her gaze, no hostility, no contempt. Just realization.

She took a breath, sharp, deep and suddenly the distance between them disappeared in two quick steps.

"I believe you, Ian," she said, her voice low but certain. "I have... abilities. I can feel truth and lies. And you..." she shook her head, almost like she was still trying to convince herself, "you are not lying."

Ian furrowed his brows. "You can feel lies?"

She didn't answer that. Not directly. Instead, she stared at him for another long second.

Then, without a warning, without a single word, she dropped to her knees.

Ian's heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

"What the—?" And then she bowed her head low.

Ian staggered back slightly. His bare feet shuffled against the stone floor. "Whoa—hey, what the hell are you doing?!"

The Queen of an entire damn kingdom, this tall, powerful, ruthless woman who had ordered his execution just hours ago, was now kneeling before him. Bowing, head low.

Ian just stood there like an idiot, eyes wide, completely at a loss. He looked around the room, even though there was no one else there.

She was kneeling to him. Nothing made sense to him anymore.

"May I stand, my lord?" she asked respectfully.

Ian blinked, caught off guard all over again. My lord? The words didn't sit right in his ears, like they belonged to someone else entirely.

"Uh… yeah. Please. Stand." His voice came out uneven, unsure.

She rose gracefully, her robes falling back into place as she looked him in the eye. That same unshaken authority she had always carried was back in full force now, but… it was different somehow. Warmer. Respectful.

"I have to fix this," she said. "To prevent your death. I need you to stay in this chamber. Don't step out until I return."

Ian was too stunned to say anything. He just nodded, and she left the chamber without another word.

Few minutes later, the door opened again.

The queen entered, behind her came two others, one was a tall woman in robes of dark green and gold, clearly a mage, and the other was the prisoner from the cell across from Ian's.

Ian straightened up immediately. "Hey...what's he doing here?"

The queen didn't answer right away. She simply motioned for the prisoner to step beside Ian. Then she gave a nod to the mage.

The robed woman began to chant something low. Her hands and eyes then glowed....and right before Ian's eyes, the man's face began to change.

His skin tone adjusted. His jaw reshaped. His nose, his cheeks, even his hair—red now, just like Ian's.

Ian stumbled back, alarmed. "What the hell—?"

The queen turned to him, calm as ever. "He'll take your place. In the gallows."

"What?!" Ian's heart hammered. "You can't just...That's inappropriate!"

"He was sentenced to death already," the queen said with a cold tone. "And the people need a redhead to hang. You don't understand the weight of this kingdom, nor its laws. Let me do what I must."

Ian turned to the man, the prisoner looked dazed, still adjusting to his new face. "You, do you even know what's happening?"

The man shook his head slowly. "Doesn't matter. Was gonna die anyway."

Ian felt sick. "No. This isn't right. You can't just..."

"You can't stop it," the queen said. "Not now. The crowd waits. And this spell only lasts ten minutes."

The mage gave a quiet nod to confirm. The queen, satisfied, called to the guards. They stepped inside, took the prisoner by both arms, and began to escort him out.

"Keep him in here," she ordered as she stepped out last.

The heavy doors locked behind her, Ian rushed to the window.

He could see the gallows down below. And the people he saw earlier filled the courtyard, all craning their necks to see. And soon the queen arrived….Standing at the front, with her guards. And beside her....him. Or rather, the man who now looked just like him.

The queen raised her hands and began speaking. A speech. The wind stole most of the words before they reached Ian, but it didn't matter. He knew what was coming.

The crowd roared, they jeered.

The noose was placed on the stranger's neck...and then a guard pulled the level. The board beneath the stranger gave way and he dropped...His feet kicked for a second… then stopped.

Ian sank to his knees, his hand over his mouth....He had never seen someone die like that. Not for him. Not because of him.

His chest ached and his stomach twisted, but there was no changing it now. He had survived...by someone else's death. He didn't know whether to feel grateful… or damned.