The first-born daughter of the queen of a matriarchy faces the revolution that had been brewing since she was an infant. She soon realizes that all of the fun trips and secret lessons she learned with her father were really training meant to prepare her for the eventual war to recover her queendom. The princess faces an unexpected foe with claim to the overthrown throne, and must make sure she secures her young siblings’ safety before the enemy takes their lives. Only then can she return to the castle and reclaim the stolen crown.

Sample:

“Well, well, well… you have gotten yourself into trouble, haven’t you?”

Alessia peered into the darkness hoping to find the source of the voice, but all she saw was black.

“What, don’t tell me you forgot about me”, the voice cooed, its timbre smooth as silk as it cut through the darkness.

Alessia’s heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she could hear little more than her own heartbeat in her ears. Finding her voice, she finally asked, “W- who’s there?”.

She could’ve sworn she saw nothing but an empty, dirty room when she was thrown into the dungeon nearly a day prior. Now, only the smallest sliver of light leaked into the dank cell from under the heavy iron door, and it provided very little by means of usable light.

“Put out your hand”, the voice replied. Seeing little other option, Alessia stuck her arm out into the darkness. She jumped when a hand wrapped itself around hers, but was surprised to find that, along with the shock of the encounter, a feeling of peace was slowly beginning to overtake her.

“Do you remember?”, the voice asked eagerly, squeezing her hand lightly in a quick pulse as if to try to jog the young woman’s memory.

Alessia found herself grasping at the wisps of a memory. Maybe she did remember the voice after all. She instinctively closed her eyes and tried her hardest to coax the memory back into consciousness. She remembered a darkness as pitch black as the one she found herself sitting in. Her free hand grazed the floor and was surprised to find it both cool and dry; the floor of her memory was uncomfortably damp. ‘An improvement’, she thought to herself, curling her fingers up so her knuckles rested against the dirt.

She felt the hand holding hers give a light squeeze again, and heard the voice ask, “Well…?”.

“I think…”, she started slowly, “…I remember.”

“Go on”, encouraged the voice.

“I remember… being in the darkness like this, when I was younger”, she started, hesitation clear in her voice as her mind worked to untangle the memories of her childhood from her present reality.

“Go on”, the voice encouraged once more.

“I remember being scared. It was dark and damp and I was all alone. I remember crying for my father to come save me.”

“But nobody came”, the voice added.

Alessia shook her head in the darkness. “Nobody came.”

“How did you survive?”, the voice asked.

“I…”, Alessia started, before pausing to think. She felt as if it was all coming back to her.

She remembered being dragged down to the dungeons as a small child; she couldn’t have been more than seven or eight at the time. She screamed and fought against the burly guard who had simply thrown her over his shoulder at her mother’s command, but her protests went largely unnoticed. Her screams grew louder as they approached the stone cells. She was terrified of the dark and knew that, unless she did something drastic, she was about to be abandoned to it.

But that ‘something drastic’ never happened. She kicked and screamed and cried and even tried to bite the guard, all to no avail; she was thrown remorselessly to the dirt floor, and the heavy door swung shut behind the guard. Tears were streaming down her face by the time the light of the guard’s torch disappeared from under the crack of the door.

She could hardly believe she was imprisoned in the black dungeons once more.

“I made an imaginary friend”, the young woman answered as the pieces fell into place.

“You did a little bit more than that”, the voice responded with a slight giggle. “Would you like to know what really happened?”.

Alessia bit her lip and nodded, forgetting for a moment that it was too dark for her movements to be seen. The voice seemed to have perceived her answer as, moments later, it continued.

“You took all of that fear and anger, the terror and indignation, the true and utter hopelessness, and used it to conjure… me.”

Alessia balked at the darkness. “What do you mean, ‘conjure’? Who… or what are you?”

The owner of the voice relinquished the young woman’s hand.

“That”, started the voice, “is unimportant. What matters is, you called me and I came, even after all these years.”

Alessia sat in silence for a moment as she considered the response she’d received. She was eager to learn more about the mysteries that the voice was alluding to, but it seemed that she was the only one who was interested in having such a conversation. Question after question bubbled up in her mind, until finally one occurred to her that she thought she might get an answer to.

“So… now what?”, the young woman asked the darkness.

“Now? We escape”, the voice replied, pausing a moment before adding, “I mean– it you want to.”

Alessia sat upright. “Of course I want to!”, she practically yelled, “What do I have to do?”

“Everything comes at a cost”, said the voice levelly. Alessia felt the unseen hand grope for her own. Once it found what it was seeking, the hand took Alessia by the wrist and turned her palm upright. Alessia felt something cold and hard being placed into her hand. When her wrist was relinquished, she ran an inquisitive hand over the object.

“Do you remember?”, the voice asked once more.

“I… do”, Alessia said, as she slowly wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the blade she was given.

“We can do anything”, the voice cooed, “As long as you’re willing to pay the price.”

The blade suddenly felt heavy in Alessia’s hands as she adjusted her grip on the handle. She remembered what she had to do, she just needed to convince herself to do it.

Her hand was trembling slightly as she pressed the blade to her arm. ‘It’s best to just get this over with…, she said silently to herself, ‘One… two… three!’

As the blood ran down Alessia’s arm, she realized how cold her skin was in contrast. She was eager to escape her confinement, ready to return to freedom and (relative) comfort.

“Good”, the voice cooed, “Now we can begin.”

A small ember flared in the darkness a few feet away from where Alessia sat. She shielded her eyes, and it took a long moment for her to adjust to the sudden light after nearly twenty-four hours in pitch black.

She could see that the light was coming from a torch attached to a sconce on the wall. Aside from that, there was absolutely nothing– and no one– else in the room. She glanced over to the heavy iron door and wondered if escape was even possible; the door was locked from the outside and had neither window nor handle to try to break out with.

Alessia pushed herself up to her feet. She was still appraising the door when it suddenly and simply clicked open.

“Are you ready?”, asked the disembodied voice.