Shadow Over the Heavenly Throne

The silence inside the carriage was almost palpable. Interrupted only by the rhythmic clatter of wheels and the faint rustle of silk curtains, it seemed to swallow every sound. The Queen sat upright, watching the girl sitting across from her.

Shion.

She was so quiet that she almost blended into the background.

Her head remained bowed, hands resting limply on her lap—small, pale, devoid of any strength. They did not tremble, did not clench. They were lifeless, as if they belonged to someone who had long since stopped existing.

She did not look up, did not ask questions. She did not even seem afraid. No, it was not fear. The Queen had seen many children consumed by fear—pleading, screaming, trying in vain to escape their fate.

But Shion?

She had surrendered.

Not because she had no choice, but because she had been made to believe she never did.

The Queen closed her eyes for a brief moment, memories from days prior echoing in her mind.

Velren had delivered his report just days ago. He had verified everything personally, ensuring the information was true. The girl’s Ascension Ritual had caused an uproar, whispers reaching far and wide. Bloodline Roots the most unique of all roots. And now, she sat here in this carriage, utterly unaware of just how many people had sought to claim her

Bloodline Roots.

Rare. Powerful. And, most importantly, unique—changing depending on the lineage they came from. Two people could possess Bloodline Roots, but their abilities would never be identical. Each family carried its own legacy, woven into the very essence of their ancestors.

Blood was power. Blood was the key. Blood was both the record of the past and the promise of the future, passed down from generation to generation. It was the link binding the ancient to the present.

Blood was also a prison. If you were not born into a powerful lineage, your growth was limited from the start. Some were destined for greatness at birth, while others, no matter how hard they tried, would always be confined by the limitations of their ancestry. They could struggle, fight, push forward… but they would never surpass the boundary set by their lineage.

The Queen opened her eyes and looked at Shion.

Her blood belonged to two worlds. On her father’s side—nothing remarkable. A second-rate sect, insignificant, lacking history or influence. On her mother’s side… it was different.

Her mother’s lineage had once been formidable. Ancient records spoke of an ancestor who, a thousand years ago, had fought against the Abyssal King himself. In those times, their name had been synonymous with power, but as the years passed… it had faded. Their blood had thinned, their influence diminished, their legend reduced to mere bedtime stories.

The Queen smiled coldly. This was the reality of the world. Families that once ruled now groveling for survival. The head of the family, desperate to salvage what little remained, had sacrificed his daughter—offering her in marriage to a second-rate sect, hoping to maintain any semblance of influence.

Pathetic.

The true irony lay in the fact that the girl they had cast aside—the one they sacrificed without a second thought—had given birth to a child who awakened the bloodline roots that could once again raise their sect to the pinnacle of the world.

The Queen wondered what expressions they would wear when they realized what they had lost.

She glanced at Shion once more. Such immense power… in such a fragile body. The girl seemed even smaller than before, as if she was trying to disappear into the shadows of the carriage.

Shion did not look like someone capable of bearing the weight of her own existence, let alone the potential that lay dormant within her. Broken, erased, as if she had been taught her entire life that she had no right to exist. As if she had learned how to become invisible.

And yet, her blood refused to let her vanish.

Her father had tried to rid himself of her—first by ignoring her, then by selling her. Yet, despite it all, she now sat before the Queen, a living testament to fate’s cruel irony.

The Queen raised a single brow, wondering if the girl had ever looked someone in the eye of her own volition.

She knew this type.

People believed they broke because they were weak. But the truth was different—they broke because they were too strong to run. Shion had survived because she had known she had nowhere else to go. Because the world had shown her, time and time again, that no matter what she did, she would never matter.

The Queen sighed inwardly.

This was how the world worked.

This was happening everywhere.

If not her, someone else would have bought her. Someone who would see her only as a weapon. Someone who would shatter her even further until there was nothing left.

She could not save her. She had no intention of doing so. She was not her mother. She was not her salvation.

The only thing she could do was give her the conditions to survive. To grow. The rest was up to her.

If Shion was strong enough to lift her head and claim her place in the world—she would give her the opportunity. If she was not… then she was never worthy of it.

The carriage rocked slightly as it rolled onto the palace’s stone-paved grounds. The Queen turned her gaze away from the girl and looked out the window.

“From now on, you will serve my daughter,” she announced suddenly, not bothering to turn her head. Her voice was calm but left no room for argument.

Shion did not react. The words seemed to pass through her, leaving no trace. Her eyes remained downcast, her hands still lifeless in her lap.

The Queen narrowed her eyes. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

After a long moment of silence, Shion slowly nodded.

“Speak,” the Queen commanded.

“I understand,” the girl whispered. Her voice was quiet, almost nonexistent, as if she feared that speaking aloud would be a mistake.

The Queen was silent for a moment before sighing and leaning back comfortably. “Serving Sylphia is an honor most would never receive. But I have no interest in empty gestures and mindless obedience.” She studied Shion carefully. “If you are just another lifeless doll, then you have no place here.”

Shion did not respond. Her fingers clenched slightly into the fabric of her dress, but that was the only sign she had heard.

The Queen raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any questions?”

Shion shook her head.

“Really?” The Queen’s voice turned cold. “You do not wish to know who my daughter is? You do not care what happens to you now?”

Silence.

Shion pressed her lips together, her small fingers twitching slightly as if she wanted to say something—but she didn’t. The silence inside the carriage became heavy, suffocating.

The Queen exhaled slowly, watching her.

“You believe you don’t matter?” she repeated, as if weighing the words. “That is what they made you believe, isn’t it?”

Shion did not answer, but the slight tension in her shoulders spoke volumes.

“What you believe does not matter,” the Queen continued. “You may think yourself a nobody, but facts say otherwise. You are here. You are alive. And as long as you are in my palace, you will not be nothing.”

A pause, then she added coolly:

“Do you understand?”

Shion nodded without looking up.

Outside, the sound of the carriage wheels slowing to a stop echoed through the night. A moment later, the door creaked open. The cold night air swept inside, carrying the subtle scent of stone and incense from the palace courtyard.

Waiting at the entrance was the Queen’s personal attendant—Selena. Tall, composed, with neatly tied violet hair, she stood with a slight bow, awaiting orders.

The Queen stepped out first, her gown billowing slightly as she placed a foot on the marble step. She cast a cold but meaningful glance at Selena.

“Take her to Elisa, the head attendant of the royal family,” she stated calmly. “Tell her I want this child to be taught the basics. She will be Sylphia’s personal maid.”

Selena nodded without surprise. She glanced at Shion, whose small frame remained motionless at the carriage’s edge. For a moment, it seemed as if the girl hesitated to move, but one look from the Queen was enough to make her rise and step forward.

“Move,” Selena ordered coolly, turning toward the palace.

Shion did not speak a word. She simply followed, like a shadow.