The storm arrived just after nightfall.
Rain hammered against the roof of the palace infirmary so loudly that it swallowed almost every other sound. Thunder rolled across the sky like distant war drums, and flashes of lightning briefly illuminated the narrow windows before darkness returned.
Inside the infirmary, a single lamp burned.
Stara stood alone at the long wooden table. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, and strands of damp hair clung to her face as she worked.
In front of her lay a small collection of herbs. She picked them up one by one and dropped them into a stone mortar. Then she began to grind. The pestle crushed the leaves and roots into a thick, green paste. The scent of bitter plants filled the room.
Outside, the rain grew heavier, but Stara didn't stop. Her movements were precise. Every few moments she paused to examine the texture before grinding again, making sure the mixture was soft enough. Finally, satisfied, she scooped the paste carefully into a pot of boiling water that hung over a small flame.
Steam burst upward immediately. She picked up a wooden spoon and began to stir slowly. The liquid darkened as the herbs dissolved into it. The smell grew stronger, filling the infirmary with an earthy bitterness.
Stara continued stirring without pause. Her face was calm, but inside her mind, the weight of what she was doing pressed heavily against her chest.
This was the first step in a dangerous plan. One mistake could cost her everything.
Another crash of thunder shook the building. Still, she stirred. Seconds became minutes, and minutes became two hours. Eventually the mixture thickened into a dark tonic.
Stara removed the pot from the flame and waited until the steam softened. Carefully, she lifted a small glass bottle from the table. Her hands were steady as she poured the tonic inside. The liquid slid slowly into the tiny container, thick and dark like venom.
When the bottle was full, she sealed it tightly. For a moment she simply held it in her hand, staring at it. So small and yet powerful enough to change everything.
Stara set the bottle aside and began cleaning the room. She washed the mortar and pestle. She wiped every surface. She returned each herb jar to its proper place. When she finished, the infirmary looked as if no one had entered it that night.
Only the storm outside remained as witness.
Stara picked up the small bottle and slipped it carefully into the folds of her robe. Then she blew out the lamp and darkness immediately swallowed the room.
Without another glance behind her, Stara stepped into the rain-soaked night, carrying with her the dangerous solution that would soon force fate itself to move faster than the kingdom had planned.
...
The shrine was nearly empty.
Only a few candles burned along the stone walls, their small flames trembling in the late-night air. Shadows stretched across the ancient carvings of forgotten gods, flickering as the wind slipped quietly through the open entrance.
At the very back of the shrine, Stara sat alone on a wooden bench. Her lady-in-waiting stood respectfully near the doorway, far enough away to give her privacy, yet close enough to guard her presence in the sacred place.
To anyone watching, Stara appeared to be praying. Her head was bowed. Her hands rested quietly in her lap. But inside her heart, the prayer forming was nothing like the quiet devotion the shrine expected.
She closed her eyes. All her life she had come to places like this believing the beings worshipped here were gods. Now she knew better. Her breathing slowed as anger rose within her chest.
"I believed you were divine." Her fingers tightened slightly. "But you are nothing more than creatures too cowardly to show yourselves."
The silence of the shrine seemed to listen. It filled her with both grief and fury.
"It breaks my heart to know there were women before me, women who died in terror and agony just to be offered as sacrifices."
The story Lila had told her echoed again in her mind. The story about the cursed agreement that had built an entire kingdom upon the deaths of innocent wives. A kingdom that now demanded her life.
Stara's eyes burned.
"Why? If I was always meant to die like this, why did you keep me alive?" Her jaw clenched. "Why didn't you just let me die in that well?"
The bitterness in her heart turned to rage.
"Shame on you." Her thoughts sharpened like blades. "You mark me for death?"
She placed a trembling hand over her belly.
"Fine. Take me." But her hand pressed protectively against her stomach. "My child will live. I will die, and you can have my body as your offering. But I swear on my life… my child will live."
Her fingers curled tightly against her dress.
"And one day that child will rain fire upon the bloodline you protect."
The ancient shrine stood silent. But Stara felt no fear now. Only defiance.
"I am Stara," she declared within herself, "daughter of the Pavo Empire. A girl who survived a massacre. I curse you. May the worst fate befall whoever dares to hurt my child. May it obliterate their entire bloodline!"
The wind outside rustled the shrine doors. Her gaze lifted toward the dark ceiling of the shrine.
"I pray to the god greater than you—the one who truly rules above all things. Do not let my death be in vain."
The final thought came quietly but firmly.
"My spirit will rejoice when this madness is destroyed."
The prayer ended.
Stara reached into her robe and pulled out the tiny bottle she had prepared earlier that night. The liquid inside shimmered faintly in the candlelight.
She hesitated for only a moment. Then she opened it, and without another thought, she drank the entire tonic.
Outside, the lady-in-waiting stood quietly by the door, unaware of what had just happened. She could not hear the silent curse spoken in the shrine, nor could she see the small bottle disappear into Stara's sleeve.
To her, it seemed like a simple prayer had ended.
Stara rose slowly from the bench. For a moment, she placed one hand on her stomach again. Her expression softened. Then she turned and walked toward the shrine's exit.
The candles flickered behind her as she stepped into the night. And somewhere deep within her body, the dangerous plan she had chosen had already begun.
***