Ravenna sat on a throne carved from solid black stone. The massive room of the Obsidian Court was quiet.
Floating orbs of purple light cast a soft glow over the smooth marble floors and the tall pillars wrapped in climbing green vines. She closed her eyes and listened to the steady heartbeat of her magical kingdom. She knew every tree, every river, and every shadow within her borders. The wild magic of the woods was an extension of her own soul.
Suddenly, a sharp pain flared deep in her chest.
Ravenna opened her eyes. The purple orbs flickered and dimmed. Someone was crossing her ancient boundary lines. It was not a stray animal or a lost wanderer. It was a large group of mortals heavily armed with cold steel.
She felt their aggressive, violent energy ripping through the peaceful silence of her forest.
She stood up from her throne. Her long dark dress trailed behind her as she walked down the marble steps.
Ravenna did not panic. She had spent her whole life building invisible walls around her realm to keep the cruel mortal world away. Her mother had died in these very woods because of mortal cruelty. Ravenna would never let them bring their violence to her home.
With a simple flick of her wrist, she summoned the heavy winds. She sent her magic rushing through the trees to intercept the intruders. It was a sleeping spell designed to knock out large crowds without shedding blood.
She closed her eyes again and watched through the eyes of the forest as her magical breeze swept over the armored men on horseback. One by one, their minds went dark. They fell into the dirt just as she planned.
But then, something strange happened.
One mind refused to sleep.
Ravenna frowned. The magical resistance she felt was very strong. It was not magic fighting back, but raw and stubborn human will. A single mortal was standing in the middle of her spell, fighting the heavy wind with a broadsword. He was refusing to surrender.
Curiosity sparked in her chest. She raised her hand and dissolved into a cloud of dark mist.
When she reappeared, she was standing deep in the howling woods. The air was thick with the sweet scent of her spell. All around her, dozens of elite soldiers lay unconscious in the mud. Their massive war horses stood nearby with their heads bowed in deep sleep.
Ravenna stepped over the fallen bodies. She moved silently through the mist until she saw him.
He was a giant of a man. He wore heavy silver armor that caught the faint light of the forest. He stood in the center of the storm with his sword buried deep in the earth to keep himself upright. His broad shoulders shook with the effort of staying awake.
He was roaring into the wind like a wounded beast refusing to die.
Ravenna tilted her head. She had never seen a mortal fight so hard against her power. She watched as his incredible strength finally gave out. His knees hit the ground. His head bowed in defeat, and he collapsed into the mud just a few feet away from her boots.
The wind died down. The forest returned to a heavy and unnatural silence.
Ravenna walked closer to the fallen warrior. She knelt beside him and brushed the wet dirt away from his silver chest plate. There, etched deeply into the metal, was a symbol she recognized instantly. It was a roaring lion wearing a crown of thorns.
The royal crest of Valerius.
Her breath caught in her throat. The anger she had buried for years flared up hot and bright. Valerius was the mortal kingdom that bordered her lands. It was the kingdom ruled by the tyrant who banished her pregnant mother into the wild to starve. The old king had sentenced them both to death just because her mother had a spark of magic in her blood. Her mother had fought through the pain and the cold, giving her last breath so Ravenna could live.
Ravenna grabbed the heavy shoulder of the unconscious man and rolled him onto his back.
She studied his face. He looked dangerous even while asleep. He had a strong jaw covered in dark stubble, a sharp nose, and a fierce brow. He was young, but his skin was marked with faded battle scars. This was not the old, cruel king her mother had warned her about. This was a younger man. A son.
This was King Draven.
She had heard the rumors carried by the wind. The old king was dead, and his son had taken the throne. They said King Draven was a ruthless warlord who conquered enemies with a heart made of ice. They said he was just as cruel as his father.
A dark smile touched her lips.
The son of her greatest enemy had just walked right into her trap. He came to her woods wearing armor and carrying a sword, probably thinking he could conquer the wild just like he conquered mortal cities. He was wrong. Magic bowed to no mortal king.
Ravenna stood up. She looked down at the mighty King of Valerius lying helpless in the dirt at her feet. She could easily take his sword and end his life right now. It would be perfect revenge for her mother. It would be justice.
But death was too easy. A quick blade in the dark would not make up for a lifetime of being an orphan in the woods. She wanted him to wake up and see that the world he ruled was nothing compared to the power he tried to destroy. She wanted the ruthless mortal king to know what it felt like to be a prisoner.
Ravenna raised both her hands. Dark purple magic sparked from her fingertips and wrapped around Draven like thick, glowing ropes. The magic lifted his heavy, armored body into the air. He hovered off the ground, suspended by her power.
"Welcome to the Obsidian Court, Your Majesty," she whispered to his sleeping form.
With another flick of her wrist, she turned back into mist, taking the captive king with her into the deepest, darkest heart of the magical realm.
The royal guards were left behind to sleep in the mud, unaware that their fierce ruler had just become a prisoner of the banished queen.
Let them wake up and find him missing. Let the kingdom of Valerius panic. Ravenna had their king, and she was going to make him pay for the sins of his father.