The woman's hands tightened even more, her knuckles pale against the simple fabric of her dress. Her breathing grew shallow, each inhale and exhale trembling with the weight of the memories she was about to unveil.
After another long, shaking breath, she finally opened her mouth, her voice barely rising above the whisper of the wind between the trees.
"My lord... my name is Seraphina Windmere," she said, each syllable falling from her lips with solemn dignity.
Arthur's gaze sharpened immediately.
The name itself was unfamiliar — but what caught his attention was what followed.
"I am the last blood of the Hurricane Kingdom... the sovereign power that once ruled the outer region of the Dark Forest in the south."
Arthur's body stiffened slightly.
His mind raced.
The outer region of the Dark Forest — the very place he had spent countless efforts trying to understand, trying to uncover its mysteries.
Every attempt so far had ended in half-truths, fragmentary maps, unreliable rumors.
And yet now, kneeling before him, was a living witness — a survivor — to the history that had been lost.
Arthur leaned forward slightly, his entire being focused on her, sensing that what she was about to say might change everything.
Seraphina lowered her head even further, the heavy strands of her long chestnut hair veiling her face.
"But one day..." she began, her voice cracking slightly, "a disaster fell upon us."
Arthur watched as her hands clutched tightly at her knees, trying to steady herself as she recalled the nightmare.
"A large... and endless army descended upon our kingdom," she said, her words laden with terror that had not faded despite the years.
"They were not just humans, or beasts... they were something else. Something unnatural."
Her eyes lifted slightly, distant and hollow.
"They moved like shadows across the land — swift, merciless, unstoppable.
Walls that once stood for centuries crumbled like sand before them.
Magic wards, ancient formations, sacred guardians — all shattered as if they were nothing."
She sucked in a deep breath as if steadying herself against a rising tide of grief.
"They said... 'You are not worthy to rule this forest.'
And then... they began the slaughter."
Her voice broke entirely at the word.
Arthur could almost see it through her eyes — the blackened skies, the screams rising into the burning air, the crashing of towers and the thunder of falling walls.
Seraphina's shoulders trembled.
"They killed everyone.
Men, women, children... not even the smallest babe was spared.
They tore through the kingdom like a wildfire fueled by hatred, destroying not just life, but even memory — so that no trace of the Hurricane Kingdom would remain."
Tears welled up in her eyes but did not fall. She clenched them back with a pride so deeply rooted it must have been bred into her blood.
"My father... King Althoran Windmere... and all the heroes, the sages, the guardians of our realm — they fought.
They fought with everything they had.
And when even the hope of victory died, they fought only to carve a single escape route."
Her voice was thick with emotion, her body taut with remembered terror.
"They sacrificed themselves to give me a chance to live.
Before I fled, they sealed my royal bloodline — locking away my powers, my birthright, hiding it even from myself so that the invaders could not sense me."
Arthur listened in silence, his heart tightening with each word.
Seraphina pressed her hand against her chest, as if feeling the weight of that seal even now.
"I ran..." she whispered. "I ran through forests thick with blood and smoke. Through rivers choked with ash. Over hills where once stood cities now reduced to bone and ruin."
Her voice became hollow, a ghostly echo of the past.
"I don't remember how long I ran.
Hours... days... perhaps longer.
I was wounded, exhausted, barely more than a spirit clinging to a broken body."
She lowered her gaze again, shame and helplessness etched into every line of her face.
"That was when... the goblins found me."
Arthur's hands tightened slightly into fists, but he remained silent, letting her speak.
"I was too weak to fight back.
They captured me easily — like a hunter scooping up a wounded bird."
Her voice grew colder, darker.
"They beat me. Starved me. Dragged me into their filthy dens like a trophy."
Seraphina's entire body seemed to shrink, as if trying to protect itself from the memories.
"But even then... even when I was chained, battered, and half-dead... I fought."
Her hands balled into fists on her lap.
"They tried to break me — again and again.
But I killed one of them with my bare hands when he tried to drag me into their breeding chambers."
Arthur's jaw tightened, a shadow passing through his eyes.
"I bit off his ear," Seraphina continued, her voice growing sharper with remembered rage. "Gouged out his eyes.
I screamed until my throat was raw and blacked out from the beating that followed."
She inhaled slowly, gathering herself.
"The beating should have killed me," she said simply.
"But it didn't."
Her eyes, so full of grief and pain moments ago, now burned with a deep, simmering strength.
"From that day, they remained cautious of me.
They feared my fury, even when I had no strength left."
The forest around them seemed to fall utterly silent, as if holding its breath in respect for her story.
Arthur studied her in the quiet that followed — this woman who had endured hell itself and emerged, broken perhaps, but unbowed.
Beneath her battered surface burned the embers of a spirit that refused to die — and Arthur, who had seen much cruelty in his life, recognized something rare in her.
He exhaled slowly, leaning back slightly against the tree trunk.
"You have suffered... far more than anyone should," he said, his voice low and even. "And yet you endured."
Seraphina bowed her head even lower, her forehead brushing the dirt before him.
"My lord..." she whispered, her voice raw with sincerity.
"I have nothing left to give but myself.
If you would allow it... I offer you my loyalty, my strength, and my life."
Her words struck Arthur deep, not with the force of a soldier's pledge, but with the desperate, steadfast honesty of someone who had lost everything — and still chose to fight.
The wind stirred gently, rustling the leaves above them, and the sunlight filtering through the branches lit Seraphina's hair with a soft, almost ethereal glow.
Arthur was silent for a long moment, letting the gravity of her story settle between them.
Finally, he extended his hand toward her.
"You will have a place here," he said quietly.
"And you will never kneel in chains again."
For the first time, Seraphina lifted her eyes fully to meet his.
In them, Arthur saw the faint glimmer of something long buried — hope.
Slowly, reverently, she reached out and placed her hand in his, and in that simple touch, a bond was forged — not of power or politics, but of survival, trust, and the shared dream of rebuilding something lost.
Seraphina seemed to remember something, her brows knitting slightly in thought. A moment later, she lifted her hand, her fingers moving gracefully through the air as she chanted in a soft, melodic voice — the language old and forgotten, carrying a weight of power and memory.
Golden light shimmered into existence above her palm.
Slowly, as if summoned from the very air itself, a key materialized — forged from pure radiant gold, intricate ancient runes engraved along its surface. It hovered for a brief moment, gleaming warmly in the filtered sunlight, before settling lightly into her waiting hand.
"My lord," she said, presenting the key to Arthur with both hands, her posture humble but her voice steady, "this is the Key of the Treasure Vault of the Hurricane Kingdom."
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, focusing intently on the artifact.
Seraphina continued, her words measured and grave.
"My father had the vault built deep within this forest, hidden within a place shrouded by ancient curses. He believed that no one — neither humans, nor beasts, nor even greedy kings — would dare to venture too deeply into this accursed land."
Her fingers brushed reverently over the key's surface, as if it were the last fragment of a lost world she could still touch.
"When I was imprisoned in Kaldor's filthy town," she said, her voice tightening, "I overheard the goblins speaking. They talked about a 'vault filled with treasures' — how the kobolds and goblins had begun fighting amongst themselves, searching desperately for a key that none of them had ever actually seen."
She shook her head slowly, a faint, bitter smile tugging at her lips.
"I realized then — they were talking about my kingdom's treasure vault.
The vault my father had hidden away with so much foresight."
Arthur's mind sharpened, his thoughts quickening.
A lost royal vault hidden somewhere within the Dark Forest — guarded for decades, perhaps centuries, by layers of natural danger and ancient wards — and now, by some strange twist of fate, its key lay in his hands.
Seraphina's voice grew softer, her gaze distant as she spoke of the past.
"When we were at the height of our power," she murmured, "monsters like goblins and kobolds... they were nothing more than ants to us.
Their strongest warriors could be slain with the flick of a finger by our lords and knights.
They would never have dared even to look upon the banners of Hurricane Kingdom, let alone covet its treasures."
A faint tremor passed through her as the memory of better days collided with the cruel reality of the present.
Arthur studied her for a long moment, feeling the heavy silence settle around them — the tragic contrast between what had been and what remained.
He reached out slowly and took the golden key from her hands.
The metal was strangely warm against his palm, humming faintly with ancient magic, as if it still remembered the touch of the kings who had ruled before.
Arthur tucked it safely away inside his inner cloak, feeling the weight of both responsibility and opportunity settle across his shoulders.
He then looked back at Seraphina, his tone steady but inquisitive.
"Can you tell me more about this forest," he asked, his voice calm but edged with curiosity, "and the lands that surround it?"
Seraphina lifted her head, nodding slightly.
The morning sun glinted off the delicate strands of her hair as she gathered her thoughts, preparing to speak again — to finally reveal the secrets of the land Arthur had long sought to understand.
The leaves rustled softly around them, the earth beneath them ancient and listening, as if the forest itself waited for her story to be told.
"my lord-.....
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(Offcourse i am creating suspension 😁)