Draven opened his eyes. A sharp ache pounded against his skull. He tried to sit up, but his muscles felt heavy and slow. He blinked several times to clear his blurry vision. He was no longer in the damp and freezing woods.
He was lying on a massive bed covered in thick furs. The room around him was enormous and built from polished black stone. There were no torches on the walls. Instead, floating orbs of soft purple light hovered near the high ceiling, casting strange shadows across the floor.
Draven threw off the furs and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He instantly reached for the heavy broadsword he always kept at his side.
His hand grasped empty air. His weapon was gone. He looked down and realized his heavy silver armor had been stripped away. He wore only his dark linen tunic, his leather trousers, and his boots.
Panic and pure rage flared in his chest. He was the King of Valerius. No one dared to disarm him. No one dared to take him captive.
He stood up, ignoring the lingering dizziness in his head. He scanned the dark room for a way out. There were no windows, only a set of tall double doors made of dark wood and iron. He marched toward them, his heavy boots echoing loudly on the stone floor. He grabbed the iron handles and pulled with all his massive strength. The doors did not budge. They were locked tight.
"Your mortal strength will not open those doors," a calm voice echoed through the room.
Draven spun around. His warrior instincts kicked in as he searched the shadows for the source of the voice.
A figure stepped into the dim purple light.
Draven froze.
It was a woman. She was the most striking woman he had ever seen. She wore a long dress the color of midnight, and her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders like a shadow. But it was her eyes that held him captive.
They were deep, dangerous, and sparked with a raw, unnatural power. She looked at him not with fear or respect, but with pure amusement.
"Who are you?" Draven demanded, his voice a deep, dangerous growl. "Where are my men?"
"Your men are sleeping in the dirt where you left them," she answered smoothly. She took a slow step closer, showing no fear of the towering, angry warrior. "And I am the one who put them there."
Draven stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He used his sheer size to intimidate his enemies, towering over them to force their submission. He stopped just inches from her, glaring down into her eyes.
"You are a fool," he warned her. "Do you know who I am? I am King Draven of Valerius. Return my sword and release me at once, or I will burn this place to the ground."
The woman did not flinch. She did not step back. Instead, a cold smile touched her lips.
"You are in no position to make threats, little king," she whispered softly.
She raised a single hand. Without touching him, an invisible force slammed into Draven's chest. It threw him backward through the air. He crashed hard onto the stone floor, the breath knocked from his lungs. He gasped for air, his eyes wide with shock. He had never experienced anything like it.
The woman walked over and stood above him. She looked down at him with cold authority.
"You are in the Obsidian Court," she declared, her voice ringing with power. "I am Queen Ravenna. Magic answers to my call, and in this realm, your mortal crown means nothing. You are my prisoner."
Draven pushed himself up onto his knees, coughing to catch his breath. His mind raced as he processed her words. The Obsidian Court. Magic. A Queen of Witches. He had always been told that magic was a myth, a fairy tale used to scare children in the villages. But the raw power that had just thrown him across the room was very real.
He looked up at Ravenna. Anger burned in his blood, but something else stirred deep inside him. He was furious that she had bested him. Yet, he could not look away from her. The women in his royal court, including his three wives, were soft, deceitful, and always hiding behind fake smiles and poisoned whispers. Ravenna was different. She was a wild, untamed storm. She was lethal.
"Why did you bring me here?" Draven asked, slowly getting back to his feet. He kept his distance this time, treating her like a deadly opponent in a fighting ring.
"Because I wanted to look into the eyes of the man whose bloodline ruined my life," Ravenna said. Her smile vanished, replaced by a deep and bitter hatred.
"Your father was a monster. He banished my mother to the wild woods to starve. She died giving birth to me alone in the dirt."
Draven frowned. He knew his father was a cruel and vicious ruler. He had spent his entire reign trying to fix the broken kingdom his father had left behind. But he had never heard of a pregnant woman being banished into the deep woods.
"My father did many terrible things," Draven said firmly, his gray eyes locking onto hers. "But I am not my father. I know nothing of your mother."
"It does not matter," Ravenna snapped, her eyes flashing with dangerous purple light. "You carry his blood. You sit on his stolen throne. You are a symbol of everything I hate. Keeping you locked in this stone room forever is the justice my mother deserves."
Draven clenched his fists. He could not stay locked in a magical cage. He had a kingdom crumbling back home. He had enemies waiting to strike at his borders. He had five daughters who needed protection, and he still needed to find a way to secure his legacy with a son. His kingdom needed him now more than ever.
"You cannot keep me here," Draven told her, his voice low and steady.
"Valerius will notice my absence. My armies will search every inch of the woods until they find you."
"Let them search," Ravenna challenged him, turning her back and walking toward the heavy iron doors. "My kingdom is hidden by magic. Your mortal armies will walk in circles until they starve. You belong to me now, Draven."
She waved her hand, and the heavy doors swung open on their own. She stepped out into the dark hallway and let the doors slam shut behind her. A loud, magical click echoed through the room, sealing him inside once again.
Draven stood alone in the dim purple light. He was stripped of his armor, robbed of his sword, and trapped in a world he did not understand. He walked over to the thick stone wall and slammed his fist against it in frustration.
He had to find a way to escape. He had to manipulate this wild witch queen and get back to his mortal throne. But as he paced the length of his magical prison, the image of Ravenna's striking eyes and lethal power refused to leave his mind.