The wind howled fiercely against the ancient towers of the grand château, while the torches upon the stone walls trembled beneath the restless storm. A dreadful silence lingered in the royal hall, broken only by the heavy voice of the king.
King Francis narrowed his weary eyes and spoke with restrained fury,
"Whosoever hath committed this deed… I shall deal with them soon enough."
A faint smirk curved upon Queen Isabella's lips as she slowly stepped forward, her crimson gown dragging like spilled blood across the marble floor.
"So," she said mockingly, "am I to consider this thy surrender? Though, if thou desirest, thou mayest yield now. I may yet show mercy."
At that very moment, Prince Lucien strode forth, his sharp gaze fixed upon her.
"What is it that thou truly seekest to accomplish?"
King Francis' voice echoed thereafter,
"What dost thou want?"
Queen Isabella's smile vanished instantly.
"Cease thy foolish pretence," she hissed coldly. "Give me the Crimson."
The very mention of that cursed name caused the chamber to fall into uneasy silence.
Prince Henry slowly turned his face aside, though within his thoughts turmoil awakened.
The Crimson… still exists? How can such a thing be possible?
Then, in answer to Isabella's demand, Princess Marie-|| spoke firmly,
"The Crimson perished alongside Queen Margret when she was burned."
King Francis immediately supported her words.
"Aye. Queen Margret held it within her own hands whilst the flames consumed her. The Crimson burned with her."
But Queen Isabella laughed bitterly.
"Lies. Mere lies. If that be truth… then show me its ashes."
The king's expression darkened.
"We truly know not where even its ashes remain."
"Very well," Isabella replied, her voice lowering ominously. "Then thou leavest me no choice."
Within her grasp rested a long enchanted staff adorned with countless deep-red crystals that glimmered like imprisoned drops of blood. Slowly she raised it toward the heavens.
Then, with terrifying force, she struck it against the ground and cried aloud:
"Je t'attends, reviens vite!"
The instant the staff touched the earth, the entire château trembled violently.
The marble floor cracked apart.
And from beneath the cursed soil… the dead arose.
Rotting hands clawed through the earth as lifeless corpses emerged one after another, their hollow eyes fixed upon Château de Chambord itself. Like a tide of death, they began advancing toward the castle gates.
High upon the castle tower, King Francis stared below in horror.
"We must do something at once!"
Meanwhile Prince Henry stood frozen, his thoughts spiralling.
All this devastation… all this war… because of the Crimson.
Yet elsewhere, something far stranger occurred.
Princess Famoura Felóenz suddenly clutched her head as unbearable pain pierced through her mind. Her knees weakened, and she collapsed upon the cold stone floor.
Then—
Fragments of forgotten memories began flooding back to her.
Crimson… the deep red colour…
And then she remembered the mysterious book Princess Marie-|| had once given her, saying only:
"Someone gifted this unto thee long ago."
In her memory, Famoura slowly opened that gift…
…and discovered that it too bore the same deep crimson hue.
Her eyes widened in terror.
Could it be…? Could that truly be the Crimson?
At that same moment, Prince Henry whispered beneath his breath,
"Could the Crimson… still be alive?"
Without another word, he suddenly fled from the tower.
Famoura's eyes widened.
No… if it falls into his hands—
She immediately rose and hurried after him.
Behind them, Princess Catherine shouted loudly,
"Where are the two of you going?!"
But neither listened.
Both disappeared into the corridors of the château.
Prince Henry descended from the castle tower and rushed directly toward princess Marie-|'s chamber, immediately beginning his desperate search.
Meanwhile, Famoura ran in the opposite direction — toward her own chamber.
The instant she entered, she hurriedly shut the door behind her.
Breathing heavily, she rushed toward the cupboard, dragging it aside to reveal the hidden hollow beneath the floor where she had secretly concealed the Crimson.
Her trembling hands lifted the object carefully.
Then she swiftly donned her dark cloak and slipped the Crimson into the large hidden pocket sewn upon the left side.
At last, she opened the chamber door—
Only to freeze completely.
Prince Henry stood waiting outside.
His sharp eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"What art thou hiding?"
Famoura's heart nearly stopped.
Without waiting for permission, Henry stepped into her chamber and began inspecting the room.
Outside the doorway, Famoura tightly shut her eyes and curled her fingers anxiously, praying silently within her heart.
Please… let him not discover it.
Please… let him not move that cupboard.
Prince Henry slowly walked toward it.
Famoura's panic only deepened.
God… if he sees the hollow beneath it, he shall know everything…
Then suddenly, Henry stopped before the cupboard and frowned.
"What is this?"
Famoura's blood ran cold.
For one dreadful moment, she believed he had discovered the truth.
Terrified, she slowly turned toward him…