The Sin Eater Chronicles

Kida crouched on the floor, knees pressed to the cool stone, wrestling with a sense of unreality. She had laid Aiyara's head on a cushioned bolster, carefully smoothing the princess's hair. The meager glow of torches cast flickering shadows, and the quiet hush in the antechamber felt too calm for the devastation that had erupted across the palace. Kida's heart pounded, her thoughts a chaotic spiral.

She could not shake the images branded into her memory: Aiyara standing proud against the mocking suitors, her voice echoing with righteous anger. Then the lightning burst of color from Aiyara's body, the cyclone of unimaginable force, the screams and thunderous collapse. Now Aiyara looked asleep, her dress stained with grime, ripped at the seams, the delicate embroidery torn beyond recognition. Kida's eyes flicked over the princess's shoulders and arms, half expecting to see open wounds, but aside from bruises and a layer of dust, Aiyara's skin remained unblemished.

"It doesn't make sense," Kida whispered. She curled her fingers around the edge of Aiyara's ruined gown, tears threatening to well up. "No suitor drew a weapon. No one lunged at her. Yet the palace exploded. Could one of them have cast a spell?" She glanced over her shoulder at the queen, who stood nearby, silent but attentive.

Meilara's expression was grim. "We don't know what might have been hidden. Dragons were present, dwarves had artifacts, the Church arrived with their new saint. Anyone could have used sorcery or triggered a device." Her voice trailed off, though a distant look suggested she was not entirely convinced that was the case.

Kida's mind latched onto the Dragon Empress, recalling how the regal, draconic figure had spoken cryptically about calm seas never forging a great sailor. Could it have been a threat? A subtle curse? Then there was Lord Ithildris, the elven lord who seemed gracious enough, but elves often carried deep magic. Could he have manipulated the situation for reasons unknown? The possibilities spiraled. "What if the Empress did this? She made some veiled comment about turbulence and storms. Could she have ignited the princess's anger—twisted it into a magical explosion?"

The guard captain, overhearing, stepped forward. He was used to Kida's direct nature. "I considered that too. But it's all speculation. We've no proof. And no sign the Empress cast anything. She left the festival courtyard to greet dwarves outside, or so some say. Besides, the damage was centered on the princess herself." He hesitated, as if grappling with whether to voice a more unsettling conclusion. "If it were an external attack, we'd have found some sign of a magical signature on the outskirts, not from within."

Kida gripped the princess's limp hand. The faint warmth there offered little solace. She gazed at Aiyara's dirt-smeared face, remembering how bright those features had been earlier. "Why won't you wake up?" she murmured, biting back a sob. "I should have protected you. That was my duty. I was your guard, your friend."

A sorrowful hush filled the chamber. The queen's eyes reddened with unspoken tears. "Kida, if this was some form of magic, it overwhelmed everyone. You could not have shielded her from it. None of us could have." Her gaze lingered on her daughter's dress, noticing a large tear that ran from waist to hip. The embroidered wave patterns were shredded, the once-glittering threads covered in dust. "She's hardly recognizable."

Kida's stomach churned. She felt a hollow guilt gnawing at her insides, even though she knew logically there had been no chance to stop an unknown power. She recalled seeing a swirl of color around Aiyara, a strobing aura that seemed to feed on her fury. Kida had reached out, trying to calm her friend, but it was as if the wind itself had hurled her back.

She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead. "Could it really be that Aiyara did this herself?" The notion seemed too horrible to accept. Aiyara was sweet, well-mannered, if sometimes headstrong—never malicious or destructive. Yet the reality was plain to see in the devastation beyond these walls.

Captain Roland cleared his throat. "We do not know if she truly did it, or if some curse manipulated her. But we can't ignore that the epicenter was the dais where she stood. The floor is scorched in a radius around that spot. The columns fell outward. Witnesses say they saw light coming from her body." He paused, sighing deeply. "Either she was the source, or something latched onto her."

Kida shuddered, remembering how the princess's dress had begun to glow at the seams, as though the threads were lit from within. The memory was surreal, but it had happened in a split second. "She never learned any magic. That's for sure," she said, recalling how Aiyara sometimes envied elves for their natural arcane gifts, or dwarves for their runic stone-shaping. "Why would it choose now to show itself?"

No one could answer. The hush deepened, pressing in on their ears. Outside, from the half-blocked corridor, they heard a soldier shouting for more bandages, another voice calling to help carry an injured child. The world was a swirl of crisis, yet here they lingered, powerless, hovering over a princess in stasis.

Kida attempted to adjust Aiyara's skirt to preserve some modesty, but the fabric was so tattered it barely held together. Blood pounded in her ears as she thought about how quickly the princess's life had unraveled. Minutes earlier, Aiyara was poised to greet the world as a future queen, with suitors lining up to declare themselves. Now she was silent and unresponsive, her future uncertain.

She looked at Captain Roland for direction, but he could only give her a sympathetic shrug. "We'll keep the family safe," he said quietly. "That's our priority. Let me see if I can find a fresh gown for her, or at least something to cover her better. We've stored some spare garments in the lower wardrobes, if those wardrobes survived the collapse."

Kida nodded gratefully. She hated seeing Aiyara so exposed and vulnerable, especially when the hallways beyond teemed with gawkers, possibly harboring blame or ill will. For the princess's dignity alone, she needed to be clean and decently attired.

The queen spoke, voice hollow with fatigue, "Yes, do that, Captain. My daughter will not be left in rags." She cast a pained glance at her own regal finery, which was likewise tattered. "We once looked so splendid, didn't we? Now look at us." Her words carried a bitter note of reflection, as though mourning not just the destroyed dresses but the broken illusions of safety and pride.

Roland departed, leaving Kida and Meilara to tend the princess. Masaru stood guard by the door, listening with an air of tense vigilance. One of the knights ventured deeper into the palace to gather medical supplies, though Kida worried how safe it would be for him to roam alone.

Kida turned her focus fully on Aiyara. "Come on," she urged in a near whisper, "you're stronger than this. I know you are. Snap out of it. You always told me you hated missing out on the fun, the dancing, the feasting. So why lie here, letting your own festival pass you by?"

The princess did not stir. There was no flutter of eyelids, no twitch of lips. The only sign of life was the faint rise of her chest every few seconds, disturbingly shallow. Kida pressed her forehead to the princess's hand, fighting back tears. "I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can, please come back. Your people need you."

She found herself recalling how they used to sneak out of the palace to watch the harbor at dusk. Aiyara loved seeing the fishing boats return, hauling nets brimming with the day's catch. She would wave to the fishermen, who adored her straightforward kindness. Now, those same fishermen likely reeled in horror at the news that the palace had half collapsed, unsure if their princess lived or died.

A wave of guilt crashed over Kida. Was she failing her father's legacy? He was a well-known guard captain, a man revered for his bravery and skill. She was training diligently to become his successor, or at least serve the princess's guard at the highest level. And yet, in the one crucial moment that truly mattered, she had been powerless. Could she have tackled Aiyara, forced her to calm down? Could she have shielded the dais from the burst? The questions gnawed at her, all of them unanswerable.

A servant knocked softly and entered with a bowl of clean water and some cloths. Kida thanked them and began wiping the princess's face, dabbing away the soot. It gave her something to do, a ritual of care that quieted her swirling mind. The water darkened quickly with ash. Queen Meilara, kneeling on the other side of the couch, helped blot out the smudges from Aiyara's hands and arms. They worked in silence, bound by mutual grief.

Eventually, Kida murmured, "If the Empress truly threatened her, we'll find out. If some suitor used a hidden device, we'll find that out, too. I won't rest until I know who or what did this." She glanced up, meeting the queen's eyes. "Unless… it really was Aiyara herself."

Meilara's voice trembled. "I cannot accept that. Not yet. But if it is so, she is still my child. We will not let her be demonized." A flicker of steely resolve flashed in her tear-streaked face. "I'll tear down entire kingdoms before I let them harm her for something beyond her control."

Those words spurred a measure of comfort in Kida's heart. She knew the queen's fierce loyalty could move mountains. If Aiyara indeed harbored some monstrous power, the monarchy would not cast her aside. They would shield her until they understood it. Kida breathed out, nodding. Her own vow stood as well: to remain at Aiyara's side, no matter how dark the road ahead might be.

And so, they continued cleaning the princess, mending what little they could of the shredded gown, waiting for Captain Roland to return with fresh clothes. Outside, the flicker of torchlight occasionally danced under the door, and faint footsteps hurried past on the stone floors. The cacophony of wounded souls receded into the background, leaving only a sorrow-laden hush. Kida's thoughts spun wildly, but she anchored herself to Aiyara's presence, hoping against hope that the princess would open her eyes and dispel the nightmare.